Bored: it's a dirty word

I'm never bored.

Right now I have my laptop fired up, my cell phone beside me, the TV on and for good measure, the laundry next to the couch, guilting me into folding it. If I'm watching TV, I'm also reading a magazine or playing on my phone. If I'm cooking dinner, I'm also cleaning or re-arranging or picking up. What can I say, I love to multitask.

On the rare occasions when I feel boredom setting in, I hear a voice in my head saying, "If you're bored, I can give you something to do so you wont' be bored."

That voice is my mother's.

For some reason, she really and truly hated when we were bored growing up. And you guys know as well as I do that as a child, there is no reason to be bored. I had toys to play with, books to read, even a nice swingset with which to swing. But when you're young, you don't realize the abundance of awesome (and minimal non-awesome tasks like mopping and grocery shopping) at your fingertips. You take them for granted. You get bored.

Sister and I not being bored. Yes we are in my toy box. we thought
 "outside the box" by getting "inside the box". Innovators? Maybe. (probably)

Mom didn't let that happen. If we so much as mentioned the word bored, even in passing, she quickly came up with a list of things that could help relieve the boredom, including practicing piano (gag), folding socks (puke), picking up our toys (as if) and doing extra homework (ahahahahahahaah. no.) So, at our house, the alternative to being bored was things that were so awful that boredom suddenly became the preferred state.

We quickly learned that if we were bored, we should keep our mouths shut about it, already, for crying out loud.

I didn't realize how much this effected me until the first time my husband said he was bored. I immediately came up with 15 things that he could do instead of being bored. My Mom's voice was speaking through me. I think he's learned not to say he's bored, too.

Of all the things I've learned from my mother, I think this has been the most practical. I can't wait to use it on Baby Blogworthy someday.

What have you learned from you Mom? What do you do when you're bored?


Post inspired by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop: 2.) Things my mother taught me.

It's that time again

Once again, we've reached the only time of the year I give a damn about sports -- March Madness! Really, if you want me to care about something, make me arbitrarily choose between two things that are exactly the same and watch the magic happen.

Oh, those two teams were both 12-8 in the regular season? Can you give me some information that I can use, such as what are their team colors and who do they have for a mascot? (And for those of you who have asked, namely Ally, that link will take you to a mascot bracket and team color bracket. You're welcome.) Last year my sister wrote about her own mascot brackets and I wrote about how to fake knowing about basketball enough to beat your friends, coworkers or spouse in tournament picks. I've been doing it for 6 years now, so I'm sort of an expert.

The other way to make me care about sports is to add a little drama to it, like a coaching scandal, someone getting arrested or dating a Kardashian. When hub watches NBA games, I refer to players not by their names but as "the guy who cheated on his wife", "gun guy" or "Klohe's husband". But that's another blog for another day.


Anyway. BASKETBALL. Remember what I showed you guys last year?

This is my husband's idea of a good time -- every TV in our home hooked up in one room so he can watch every first and second round game concurrently. It's like a sports bar, plus a couch, minus the booze (that's math). I'm not sure it'll happen this year because our living room now includes 100% more baby products than last season, but he's surprised me before.

And OH YEAH, this year we have a baby! One who can reach out and swat at things and you know what that means? He's getting his own bracket! I'm planning a highly scientific method for him in which I'll assign a team to each of two plush octopi (which I believe is the plural form of octopus and if it's not -- my blog, my rules so suck it, word  nerds) and the one he sticks into his mouth first wins that match up.

It's Captain' Calimari:

 

versus First Mate Squidbert

in epic battle of tentacles, sounds and plastic rings. Calamari has a mirror on his underside, but Squidbert plays sounds when his middle ring is pulled, so....it should be interesting in a way that has nothing whatsoever to do with basketball.  He loves them both. I hope to include some video of this and the results tomorrow.

If you want to get in on a bloggy bracket, Cathy is hooking you up this year (again) so visit her or tweet with her @cathyantsypants. It's for cool people with blogs only WHICH INCLUDES ALL OF YOU.

Oh, lookie here! My girl Natalie is bonding with the men (and little lady) in her life over basketball!

Are you guys watching basketball, or are you more of a football fan? Or does something like American Idol fulfill your need for competition?

Tearin' up my heart

5)  A song with significance.

I have a confession to make.

Back in the day, and that day was 1998, my family and I were at Disney on a family vacation. It was my high school graduation present. During what I believe was our EPCOT day, Mom pointed out there was boy band concert that was being filmed for The Disney Channel. If you'll travel back in your memory some 13 odd years, you'll remember the late 90s being the Years of the Boyband. More spiky hair and funky harmonies than you could shake a stick at.

So, this group was NSYNC, and my sister and I turned up our noeses BIG TIME. We were all, pshaw, boybands? Are for teenyboppers. Thanks, but no thanks. Let's get a funnel cake and ride Spaceship Earth again.

Mom was like, "Not even for free?"

We were all, "Um, ten-year-old girls screaming over some lame made up group isn't' our idea of a good time, Mom."

And Sister Fate, she heard every single word of that conversation and wanted us to pay for our flippant attitude toward boy bands. The NSYNC concert aired two months later and NSYNC became the hottest boyband in the country. We were kicking ourselves for missing the concert.

 A few months later, inexplicably, we were hooked. We had a fever, and the only cure was clearly over produced songs sung by pretty boys. We still say that making the decision not to watch that free concert cursed us to have bad seats to everything for the rest of our lives.

Although at 19 years old I was almost a decade older than their target demographic, I was a sucker for anything and everything NSYNC related. We attended several concerts. We bought every CD -- even the import singles with exclusive German tracks (this was before iTunes, i.e. the stone ages). We even bought those stupid teen magazines and hung posters up on our walls. I'll never forget the winter we took off in the snow to get handi-tac from Walmart.

Why would a college aged girl become obsessed with a boyband? It was probably the fear of changes that were happening all around me. My grandmother had a stroke the next summer and then passed away the next fall. I'd started college, and it was new and weird and sometimes hard. My Dad's company transfered him to Cincinnati, where he lived 5 days out of the week. I was ending one romantic relationship and starting another one. 

Change is awkward and unsettling. Boybands are the complete opposite of that.

I'm a big fan of the 90s station on XM Radio. Everyone once and awhile, the familiar opening notes of Tearing Up My Heart will start blaring on my way home from work and I can't help by smiling about a simpler time when a group of singers brought so much joy to my life.

Taco Bell continues to appall and disgust me

Been awhile since an Ad Nauseous, huh? well, it's because I don't watch much TV anymore. Actually, that's untrue: I'm back on my schedule of watching TV on my DVR like a normal person instead of live daytime TV.

Occasionally Every other night, we watch sports, which are of course, best enjoyed live. And let's talk about target audience for, say, an NBA game: probably male, probably the 18-35 demographic, right?

And here comes Taco Bell from stage left with their new Quad Steak Burrito commercial:



At first glance, it's pretty clever. Haha, lounge singer. Hehe, funny lyrics. I like when he says "That's like a whole honkin' cow"! Teehee, see how they are making fun of small portions? And how that guy just wants his mound of steak and he wants it now?

Then it worms into your brain and makes you insane.

After you've heard it enough, it loses all meaning. Clearly, Hubby and I no longer realized what the product was, as shown by this conversation:

Me: (singing along) Five pounds of steak!!! Five pounds of Stteeeaaakkkk!
Hubby: Yeah, that's what it is. Five pounds of steak. Who could even eat five pounds of Taco Bell steak anyway? Sheesh.
Me: Ok smarty, what *do* they say?
Hubby: They say five kinds of steak.

(some time passes)

Me: Wait, how can there be five kinds of steak?
Hubby: Well. you've got the butt, the ribs, the thighs, the breast. And I don't know, some other part. Five parts of the cow.

So, this commercial is not only NOT advertising five pounds or five kinds, but there isn't even a five in the song at all.

In conclusion, big time fail on this one, Taco Bell. You suck and so does your steak and so does you ad team.

Great, like I need another addiction

Like cherry icees, Twitter and Bejeweled, I've become obsessed with Words with Friends.

I have a Droid phone, so I never had access to the game before it was released on this platform earlier this week. I was hooked instantly.

This didn't mean I wasn't scared. Oh, Lawd, was I scared, or more appropriately, I was intimidated.

I love words - the way they sound, fit together, evoke emotion. 

But y'all, I'm about to make a confession that will blow you away: I'm not a speller. I mean, I'm college educated, so I can spell, but I don't like it nor am I that concerned with it. Isn't that why spellcheck was invented? Because some geek was so filled with nerd rage over not being able to spell that he came up with that magical cure all?

I'm not the type of person who can look at a group of letters and see long, complex words. No, give me an O and a T and ill come up with a plethora of three letter words like NOT and DOT and POT. Throw an S into that mix and now I'll throw down DOTS and POTS. I might even try NOTS, hell maybe it'll accept it? Stranger things.

I like playing this game on our ipad called Chicktionary. Its Boggleish. You are given seven letters and have to get as many words as you can in three minutes. And awesomely, it takes place in a henhouse, which - let's be honest with each other for a second - is really why I play.

But make no mistake, I'm terrible.

So Words with Friends. I was nervous big time. I'm currently in 19 games and being solidly trounced in approximately 17 of them.  Surferwife is beating me by 80 points. But then I'm playing three letter word bonanza with Natalie and Hutch, so those are barn burners. And KLZ played my least favorite word EVAR, which is "wad". I dare you to say that word and not cringe a little.

Then I tricked my husband into it, and we're in an epic battle of wits and wills. Neither one of us likes losing. In fact, once we were playing a card game and he was winning, so I threw the cards at him and told him I was done. And when I say "once", I mean "every single time we play". We don't play cards anymore.

At any rate, your takeaways from this blog are 1. I have an addictive personality. 2. I make a living as a writer but can't spell and 3. You should play me on WWF because you will win.

My kitchen needs some serious work

There is some serious business on the blog this morning.

Listen, today you're all going to be pawns in my quest to win a giveaway. I've never wanted to win a giveaway more in my life, and believe me, I've entered A LOT of giveaways.

Jayme, the Random Blogette, got rull ballsy and contacted Giani Granite Countertop Paint to do a review and giveaway. Not only is Jayme now pretty much my hero for turning her kitchen remodeling dreams into reality, but she gave a glowing review of this product.


To help my chances at winning, I have to blog about it.


Now I could just throw in a little mention about the giveaway at the end of a post per usual but I decided to really give it my all and allow my desperation to shine through like a 32 year-old contestant on the Bachelor. 


You guys, my kitchen is seriously ugly. 


You see, the previous owners loved purple. LIKE LOVED IT. If I were to play "what's her story?" about the woman who lived here before us, it would be: divorced her husband, got the house, decided to redo it all in her favorite color WHICH IS PURPLE. But because she needed a *little* variety, she decided to paint it various shades of purple.


The kitchen is more of a periwinkle.

 I don't know, is that periwinkle? It's not purple, it's not blue, but more like a disgusting bastard love child of the two.

Then there's the issue of our countertops.

I know, I know, there's too much stuff on them, but just look at how cheap they look. And I just realized I've captured the beauty of "suction cup on the bottom of the bottle brush". We stuck it there days ago and it's still hanging. And yes, we stick bottles ON it on the wall and clean them.


It's the little things.


So, our house was built in 1994. The owners spared no expense EXCEPT on the countertops, which not only look cheap, but stain super easily. Who puts easily stained countertops in a kitchen?

If you can tell from this crappy cell phone picture (yes, Hub, I know your new phone has a much higher megapixel camera SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR NEW PHONE ALREADY), this particular part of the countertop has red rings from a leaky cherry Icee cup circa my 8th month of pregnancy when I drank them pretty much on the daily.


I've used everything to get it out -- every scrub, cleaner, sponge and brush out there.


It won't budge.

Makes you wonder what cherry Icee does to your insides, huh?

You know what this countertop needs? A beautiful faux granite finish. We can't afford new countertops, at least not for a few more years, so this is the next best solution. All we'll need after that is a coat of paint, new backsplash and a new light fixture, and it'll be like a new kitchen.


Wait, I just looked at her pictures and I believe she painted her backsplash with the paint. *SCORE*


I would just hate for my son to grow up in a home with an ugly kitchen.


Hear that Universe? Don't take this away from my child.


(nailed it!)

Do you have an ugly kitchen? If you could paint your kitchen any color, what would it be? 

The day I went crazy over a banana

I love bananas.

I eat a banana every day for my mid-morning snack. You know, because of my ravenous monster baby. And although I'd rather eat a hash brown or cookie, I try to stick with healthy stuff while I'm at work. It's so people wont' get all judgy with me.

I'd also like to say that eating this daily banana has kept me from having ridiculously painful evening leg cramps. A little free advice to other pregs out there from me. You're welcome.

(When I typed "cramps", I first spelled it c-r-a-p-s, something else you other pregs are probably intimately familiar with. I almost left it like that.)

Anyway. Bananas.

I got this bunch of bananas at the store the other day. Actually, I almost put them back on the banana shelf because the top two in the bunch were enormous. Like, they made me physically uncomfortable to look at. I'm thinking to myself, that's like a banana and a half -- who can eat a banana that large?

But I brought it to work with me and had to capture the moment for Twitter.

It's as long as my keyboard! I mean seriously!

This is where all y'all who aren't on Twitter are gonna get jealous. My Twat friends saw this picture yesterday. Along with this status.

Then Surferwife got into it. She was the ONLY person who commented on my big banana, and I am ashamed for the rest of you. I thought for sure I'd get some kind of reaction from you closet pervs but whatever. Surferwife is pretty much my main instigator and troublemaker on Twitter. She's like my friend in college that would sit with me and talk the whole time so we'd both get in trouble.

Later I tried to bribe Liz with a gigantic banana into making her response to me her 10,000th Tweet. I was 9,992. But apparently she just doesn't like big bananas.

Later than that, Surferwife told me I was out of control and it was the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

So what's the point of this random blog?

1. Bananas are delicious.
2. Sometimes they are too large.
3. If you don't have Twitter or use it regularly, you're seriously missing out on awesome stuff like this.
4. I can make a blog entry out of just about anything, apparently.
5. This post is bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. (What one of you did not have that song already running through your head? We cannot be friends if you didn't.)

I'm sure you sickos have lots to say about this banana post, try to keep your heads out of the gutters as you are responding lest I write a blog about my love of the word "balls".

What's your favorite fruit? Do you have Twitter? Would you like to follow me (it's @amandaaustin). Are you disappointed that I haven't written for, like, a week, and I put up gibberish like this?

tagging in (har har har)

My friend and old sorority sister, Miranda, tagged me in a "getting to know you" type of post! I'm still working on a doooo-hooo-sey of a post about my childbirth education classes, which, even if your not pregnant, get thyself to one of those bad boys post haste because they are hiiiiiilarious. So anyway, while I'm working on that, get to know me a little better with these questions Miranda came up with!

1.  What is your daily routine like? What time to you get up, go to bed, dinner routine, etc.

  

I am definitely a creature of habit. My routine goes a little something like this: get up at 7 to get ready for work. Get to work at 8 (takes about 20 minutes or so to get there). Work until 5. Come home and fix dinner. Clean up dinner. Take a shower. Watch whatever trash is on TV. Go to bed around 11. I bet y'all thought my life was infinitely more exciting, didn't you? Well it can't be all frosty taste tests all the time, people. 

The weekend goes a little something like this: Get up at 9, eat breakfast, watch football -- I mean "watch" as in read magazines while my husband watches. Sometimes there is a little laundry thrown in there. Saturday is bed sheet changing/washing day, so I do some of that. Lunch, then a NAP that usually lasts 2 hours or more. That's just how we roll. Then we mess around the house, eat dinner, watch more football, and I basically dont' get dressed at all for an entire day.

2.  What are things you do with your family for fun.  And for those of you with children, what fun things to you like to do with your kids?

 Clearly, I can't yet be too active with my child, but as far as Hubby and I go, we love to travel and see new places. We've been traveling together for almost 6 years and love experiencing new places together. Although I don't love sports, I do love seeing new sports stadiums and the cities they are in. He loves history, so we see lots of forts and battlefields, which even I can get into. We love cities with "charm": Savannah and Nashville are some of our favorites. We've been all over the South East, but on our list are Boston, NYC, Philadelphia, etc. We always wanted to go to Memphis, so that's on our list. And of course, we still have to explore the West. Our dream trip is to start in Washington or Oregon (we have a friend there) and just drive down the coast. I would love to see L.A. Also on our agenda: London, Italy, Germany, Greece. So either we'll be putting it off for a few years or our son will be a world traveler early.

3.  What are your FAVORITE holiday traditions?

I really and truly love the holidays. Thanksgiving, you've got the the parade, the turkey, stuffing, rolls, GRAVY, green bean casserole (the only way I'll eat green beans), pumpkin pie, and carb comas. And maybe this year birthin' a baby. And then Christmas: I love the lights, the decorations, the smell of cinnamon, cookies, fudge and of course the birth of my Lord and Savior. My family always made Christmas season so special. We put up the tree usually the first Friday after Thanksgiving. We'd order pizza and unwrap every ornament individually, usually talking about the memories attached to it. Although my sister will tell you I rarely put AN ornament up, which is sort of true. 

My favorite tradition is probably opening up gifts after Christmas Eve service. When I was a little girl, we used to go to the midnight service then come home and open our gifts from the family (so our "santa gifts" were main attraction on Christmas day). Yes, that meant finishing the unwrapping at 2 am. Christmas morning always included cinnamon rolls and watching Christmas specials all morning. Now that our baby will be here, Christmas will be a little different, but 

4.  What do you do when you want to relax and have some "me time" ?

I'll do one of two things: read blogs or watch TV. If Hubby isn't around, I will add eating Chipotle or some other place he doesn't like and painting my toes to that list. If it's summer (and especially if I'm near a pool), I love laying in the sun and reading a book or magazine. There's nothing more relaxing than that to me.

5.  What is one of your favorite books you've read so far?

Ohh, this one is tough because I can't remember the last time I read a good book. I used to read every second of the day before my Hubby came along, but he's sort of hyperactive. I really enjoyed all the Harry Potter books, and I'm always drawn to "chick lit" -- beach books. 

6.  What is your biggest guilty pleasure?

Obviously, I adore reality TV:

• Dancing with the Stars 
• Intervention, Project Runway, Austin & Santino, Jersey Shore
• Toddlers & Tiaras
• The Bachelor and Bachelorette
• Random celebrity gossip as seen on E! TV, including but not limited to E! News and E! True Hollywood story
• And my latest, Say Yes to the Dress, which kicks so much tail.
• Friends, 30 Rock or How I Met Your Mother  DVDs

Honestly, if given the opportunity and an E!THS marathon, I will watch this kind of thing for hours on end. 


So hope you guys enjoyed learning a little more about me, and now I want to learn about you!

1. Do you like sports or do you want to murder-train them? Which sports are your favorite, if you do like them?
2. Which is better, chocolate or vanilla?
3. What was your favorite vacation you've ever taken?
4. If you could go the rest of your life without hearing about ONE  celebrity or public figure, like if that person ceased to exist, which person would it be?
5. Do you enjoy TV watching, and if so, what's your all time favorite show?
6. What's your favorite kind of music?

And I'm tagging: 


Sarah @ Princess & the Blog
Brooke @ Building a Kingston Castle
Jayme @ Random Blogette
Cher @ The Only Girl
Jamie @ Daydream Believer
Cathy @ Antsy Pants
KLZ @ Taming Insanity

Please don't feel obligated to post, and also if I haven't tagged you and you want to do this, please do! I know some of us in the blog-o-sphere have been feeling the bloggy blues lately and this might just be the thing to perk y'all up!


OH, and if you haven't noticed (especially if you're reading this in Reader), clicky on the old blog and look to the left and gaze upon my button. 

My blog button, you pervs. 

It was created by Miranda via her new blog business, Little Sailor Designs! She does blogger blog designs and is just great to work with. Check her out.

Annie is almost like an action flick

So, have you been wondering where Amanda is? No, I didn't jet off to Bora Bora to date three guys because 1) I'm married 2) I'm not a fame seeking whore and 3) I work for a non-profit. That's definitely not where I've been. I know you're all missing my delightful recap, but the truth is I just didn't have it in me to watch it on my birthday because it sucks the energy right out of my body. I watched the Bachelorette online with my pal JP and I saved our conversation and will post it maybe this weekend. It's good times.

I'm here tonight to drop off some funnies from my dear Husband. The scene: I was sleepy when I got home from work after eating way too much at lunch at the Pizza Hut lunch buffet. After struggling through a pizza coma all afternoon, I needed a resty-poo. When I woke up we went to McDonalds for dinner because my baby? He loves him some Filet of Fish sandwiches. What the heck? What kind of baby did I make? At any rate, after naps I tend to suffer from a little foggy brain, probably exacerbated by all these hormones.

While we're there, the following conversation occurs regarding, hands down, my favorite movie of all time, 1982's Annie, staring Eileen Quinn and the incomparable Albert Finney as Daddy Warbucks.

Me: Davey [Sister's husband] watched Annie with Sis.
Hub: *snickers*
Me: What? He did!
Hub: Yeah...right.
Me: Why wont' you watch with me?
Hub: I don't think I'll like it.
Me: I watch stuff with you that I don't like! Besides, Davey liked it! He said he liked the car chases!
Hub: Car chases, I'm so sure.
Me: *getting angry* What if my only dream in life is for you to watch Annie with me????
Hub: Then I'd say you have a sad life, if that's your biggest dream.
Me: *sigh* [pause] But there *are* car chases.
Hub: *laughs at me*
Me: And thievery and kidnapping. And helicopters. It's veerrrry exciting!
Hub: *head in his hands*
Me: You know what it's like? It's like that movie Taken. *wiggles eyebrows expectantly*
Hub: I'm going to Tweet that you just said Annie is anything like Taken.

So he's not only funny, but he puts up with my nonsense. I think he deserves a medal.

Have you seen Annie? Isn't it the best? On a scale of  1 to 10, how close is it to being like Taken?

Another good idea, another chance for you to STEAL IT

Ok, seriously folks, I'm getting ready to lay another great idea up in this piece and it's going to explode with awesomeness like a stick of dynamite, so please be prepared. I know we all sort of let our guards down on Fridays so this is just a warning.

Yesterday I talked about my idea for ghost tours, which won't work because I'm lazy and not in a place where people would fall for that take advantage of such an opportunity. But I do live in a college town. That means we have lots of hungry, poor and sometimes drunk college students. When we moved here from WV, we noticed a real lack of hot dog eatery establishments. WV is like, hot dog capital of the world. These poor students just have to forgo the taste of mystery meat, covered in sauce, wrapped in a deliciously steamed bun? It's just wrong.

Thus a dream was dreamed. A dream of our very own hot dog cart.

Hot dogs are, like, the cheapest thing to fix. That's why there are twice as many hot dogs as hamburgers at cookouts -- look next time, it's a fact.

Hot Dog Cart

 First we'd have to buy a hot dog cart. This is by far the biggest expense, but also will pay for itself. There's some term in economics for that, I think, but guess who doesn't know much about economics? Anyway. I browsed Ebay and found this lovely cart for only $400. And it's nostalgic. You know what students love even more than cheap stuff? Kitsch.

Even the seller knows what a gem he's got on his hands:
"Theres [sic] nothing like this full-service pushcart to deliver nostalgic charm and modern convenience," he proudly proclaims. That's correct sir, NOTHING like it.




The cart comes with  a hot dog roller, a two lidded steaming/warming trays, a beverage cooler, a service shelf and three inserts "for condiments such as chili and sauerkraut."

Then we go on to the basics of any good hot dog business. I just spent an hour researching how to buy wholesale hot dogs and finally found them (Bee Tee Double You, if you want to find wholesale hot dogs on Google, you have to use the keyword "bulk foods, hot dogs"). I can get some Oscar Mayer's, a case of 330, for $110. Now that I'm thinking it through, maybe bulk hot dogs aren't a good idea, as I have no space to keep them. Other than my fridge. Can you imagine if somebody came over and looked in my fridge and they were all, oh, so you like hot dogs? Awkward. So if worst comes to worst, I'll just buy some at Walmart for 99 cents for 12. Buns are 89 cents for 8. *high  quality* is what we'll be known for.

Then there are a whole bunch more variables, like how much mustard costs, if I'll be serving relish or sauerkraut, and how many hot dogs we'll really need. And I dont' have time for all that right now, so I'll get to the really brillant part: Location, location, location.

During regular school days through the semester, from 11 till 2, we'll push that little bad boy around trolling from customers. What more perfect lunch can you think of for rushed, poor students? So that's 3 hours out of the day. Then when the sun sets, our hot dog cart will become a beacon for drunk bar flies. Picture if you will: 3 a.m. You've been dancing and drinking and it's time to go home. Nobody is sober enough to drive to Taco Bell and nothing else is open. Suddenly, like an angel made out of streel, plastic and animal byproducts, the hot dog cart appears, waiting to satisfy the cravings of wasted 20 year olds. I mean it's like a money pit waiting to open up. So 2 till 3:30 we'll work the night shift.

We'll name is something  University of Florida-y, like Swamp Dogs or something vaguely sexual like Hot Buns & Wieners, Inc. Then we'll become millionaires.

On my last blog, Ally left the following comment:

My big idea was... to serve frozen/umbrella drinks from the ice cream truck. I mean, no ice cream...just alcoholic beverages. How stellar is that?? I love to drive and I love to watch drunk people so if I could make a profit off of them, all the better! All I need is a driver's license (check) and a liquor license (if drinking made it so, I would totally have that one, too). I think we could be on to something. But if I see a drink truck driving around, you'll be the first person I'll be looking at. 

Now I'm thinking, perfect. This is the best duo ever. We'll park the hot dog cart right next to the ice cream truck that sells liquor and make money off the kids who just aren't ready to stop partying quite yet, but also need a snack break.

Speaking of breaks, if you steal our ideas, we'll break your toes.

What's your best 'brilliant' idea?

Don't steal my idea!!!

Do you ever wish you were somebody like, say, the guy who invented Facebook? I mean he came up with some lame idea to basically stalk girls that he went to school with and now he's a gazillionaire.

Or the coffee kiosk we saw on the Travel Channel show XTREME COFFEE SHOPS where girls serve you coffee dressed in nothing but their underpants. The owner can't believe how successful it's been (as she rolls around in piles of money). One girl, who was wearing a cowboy hat, leather chaps and a cow print bikini, said she is shocked that people just keep coming back. And you guys, the shop is literally in a shed. A shed you can buy and build yourself on some random weekend.

Occasionally I'll come up with an idea, or Hubby and I will come up with an idea together, and think, if only we could make this happen, we'd so make a million dollars. I want to share some ideas with you guys but I have already done the poor man's copyright with them so don't even think about stealing them, and if you do I will hunt you down and then make you be a contestant on the Bachelor. Serious as a heart attack, folks.

Ghost Tours

Spend any time in a tourist town and you'll see one of these ghost tours popping up. Those places are *lousy* with ghost tours already, and they are all more or less the same, but to make ours even better, we came up with the following ideas:

1. Sell bottled water for 75 cents instead of $1 like everybody else.
2. Sell things like "authentic Civil War style bullets" or "rocks like the ones the lady fell into when she jumped". 
3. Sell small flashlights or candles. Oriental Trading Company sells them for $5 per dozen -- that's 41 cents per flashlight. We'll sell them for $1 each and offer it at the beginning of each tour.

We've been on a metric crap ton of ghost tours in our day because we're tremendous suckers and have never once seen a ghost. I mean, hell, half the time you just wander aimlessly listening to ghost stories. We can get those off the internet or from a book.

So let's break it down.

Our costs:

• learning ghost stories from the internet or checking out a book from the library: FREE
• Bottled water: $6 per 24 pack= $6
• Mini-flashlights: $5 per doze x two dozen = $10
• Our time: FREE

Gross profit:

• We'll charge $7 per person x 15 people per group = $105
• Two groups = $210
• Four nights per week = $840

Net profit:

• Supplies = $64 per week
• Profit = $840

TOTAL:  $776 per week
Yearly total: $40,352

The bonus? Each tour lasts 2 hours, so you're only working 4 hours a day for 4 days MINIMUM. I'm just guessing that you'll only be able to get big crowds on the weekends (which is including Thursdays). Add a one tour a day for the rest of the week and you've got at least a couple extra hundred.

Problems with this plan:

• Me no live in a tourist town.
• I'm sort of lazy and like to be in my PJs after 5 pm.

Maybe it can be some creepy, "people who died in their sleep and are now ghosts" tour and PJs will be my costume.

I've got a million more...I'll share another one tomorrow.

Back from vacay, or, You mean I have to cook my own meals now?

Well y'all I'm back from my big adventure to the beautiful Caribbean. This was my second cruise, but Hubby's first. Thanks to all the great bloggers who filled in for me: Jennifer from Crazy Shenanigans, Hutch from Be Awesome Instead and KLZ from Taming Insanity.

I just want to give you some highlights of my vacay because usually people talking about their vacation sounds either braggy or boring. First, our stateroom: We choose the inside state room, so we really had no idea what time of day it was or what was going on in the outside world. My Hubby is a tall person and could barely fit into the shower. His legs hit the tub when he sat down on the toilet. It really wasn't a problem though; totally nice and cozy accommodations.

But our bed was humongous and had these curtains that closed off our bed from the rest of the room. I mean there wasn't really a function for it because it was just the two of us, but how cool is it to "pull the curtains" before you go to bed? I pretended like it was our own personal yacht and we were rich people. I mean, is that what rich people do? Sleep with the curtains drawn in their private yacht? If you're a rich person, let me know. Also, give me piles of money.


If you've never been on a cruise, forget about losing weight and in fact, just plan on gaining 7 to 10 pounds while you're there because you will have a never-ending stream of food placed in front of your open mouth. Cruise people do NOT want you to be hungry, because hungry = cranky and that's not the point of a cruise. We're talking a breakfast buffet, followed by a seafood lunch buffet, followed (much later) but a four course meal. Want some crab dip, then a salad, then a steak, then some baked Alaska? HAVE IT EVERY NIGHT.

And if you happen to be hungry during the times when there isn't a buffet or sit down meal available, you can head to the counter and get pizza, hot dogs, fruit, french fries or wraps. I mean the pizza itself -- imagine you walk into a pizza place and say, Hi, I'd like some pizza please and they say, "how much?" and you say 'THE WHOLE PIZZA" and they say, OK, that will be 0 dollars and 0 cents, have a great day! That was our life. Plus, all the Coke you could put into your body and y'all? Disney has the BEST Coca Cola on the planet. I don't know what they do to make it taste so good but I could drink it every second of the day.

We got all glammed up for dinner and the nightly show. It was a nice change of pace from dinner in front of the TV. Here's me walking the red carpet for the "Golden Mickeys":

Our five night cruise consisted of two trips to Disney's private island, Castaway Cay and one trip to Nassau. The first day was to Castaway Cay and it was just beautiful, then the next morning we were in Nassau and then we had a "day at sea". Nassau is, like, 64 nautical miles from Castaway Cay. I'm pretty sure we just docked or at the very least sailed at like 2 nautical miles per hour. Why should I care, I got to lay by a pool for several hours and learned how to make towel animals.

Let's talk about the Caribbean for a second.

That's sick beautiful, right? I mean it's almost unfair how lovely the beaches were at Castaway Cay. The water was amazingly clear and the perfect temperature. They set out little umbrellas and lounge chairs for us to enjoy and there were people walking around taking your drink orders and it was amazing. If I didn't have these silly obligations like a JOB or MORTGAGE, I'd so quit it all and open a restaurant in the Caribbean. I'm  serious as a heart attack. It's just gorgeous.

Plenty of time for this:

WHY ISN'T THIS MY LIFE? That's me sitting my fat butt in a chair in the water reading a book.

Also some of this:

That's Jazz Hands for my girl Hutch and another blog shout out to Surferwife -- this is the tankini I ordered. Does it feel like I took y'all with me? I hope so.


Speaking of Jazz Hands?

Hubby even got into it!

Who likes baby bumps?!?

Well that's my vacay in a nutshell. I had the best time but missed my bloggy friends. Tomorrow is Bachelorette recap day -- get excited!

Jazz hands come to Florida

My good buddy Hutch over at Be Awesome Instead has been trying to start a revolution. A revolution of sass. It all started with her guest post from Chicken , who suggested we stop taking boring pictures and start jazzing the place up! So since then, I've been on a mission to bring a little jazz into my own photos.

I used to go with the thumbs up in my pictures:

This was taken during our first trip to Disney as Florida residents when we visited four parks in one day. It was our 4 peat and this quarter was my reward. So of course I gave it a thumbs up.

The thumbs up is OK. It's adequate. It represents how I am feeling and makes me feel less awkward than when I just have to stand around and look at a camera. but there was just something missing...

But then I started noticing a trend, and my own personal version of jazz hands, the "wave with your mouth open" pose. It's both tacky and unflattering!

But I have gotten a little jazz handsy over the years, as evidenced by this gem from my sister's wedding rehearsal:

Listen, I'm all kinds of sassy up in that church, y'all. I can even do jazz hands while holding my fake bouquet!  This one was sort of an inadvertant jazz hand pose -- sort of a "mouth open waving"/jazz hands hybrid. After Hutch started the revolution, I knew I had to shape up in the posing department:

This was at the All Star Sports Resort at Disney, and while these little ducks are trying to hit and catch a baseball, I'm showing off my 10 little photo pals.

I forced my husband to take some jazz hands pictures after our anniversary dinner last week, you know, for the cause:

And even Sushi the cat got into it!

He's extra good at it because he has extra thumbs. I'm sure he'll want to do that again VERY soon.

So expect more jazz hands in the coming weeks, especially after my sister and I take loads of jazz hands pictures on our cruise next month. If you write your own, let Hutch know so she can link it, and tweet about it with the hashtag #jazzhandsrevolution. Let's start something, people!

As if you need more encouragement, I present you with this graph of things that are awesome. You can't argue with graphs. It's science:

In other news, the Bachelorette started last night. Who is watching? I'm there for every white hot second of that mess. You should go read Jamie's take on it over at Daydream Believer.

As for me, my thoughts can be best summed up in list form, from a conversation I had with my friend JP today:

JP: First of all, nice weave.
Me: Second of all, if you're going to have a weave, can it please be in a color that occurs in nature? "yellow" is not a hair color.
JP: Third of all, wear a dress that fits. 
JP: fourth of all get your shoulders out of your ears.
Me: Fifth of all, shut the heck up with your stupid laugh.

 So there you go, my thoughts on the first 15 minutes of the Bachelorette. I'm going to see if Jamie wants to join forces for some Bachelorette snark on Mondays.

Happy Tuesday! *JAZZ HANDS*

Dancing with the stars? Please. Dancing with the CATS.

Anybody watch Dancing With the Stars? I'm a newbie. It's my first year watching it and so far me likey. But of course, there is something far better than dancing with B list (who are we kidding -- D list) stars and that? Is dancing with some cats. It's just like the show except less sequins, more fur and more than 2% body fat.

Once I mentioned cat dancing and Liz asked how a person goes about making a cat dance? It's so easy and fun and anybody can do it. All you need is the following items:

• arms
• a cat
• music (optional -- a capella singing will do, or you can even hum. This one is my favorite.)

In just a few easy steps, you'll be dancing with the cats, too!

1. Pick up a cat. This may be difficult, as cats normally will run from you when they know they are about to be humiliated. They just have this instinct. To counteract this, you have to pretend like you're just picking something up from the floor. Ignore then completely, then strike

2. Sit down on a couch or chair. Cat dancing works best if you are in a seated or lounging position.

3. Place the cat in a sitting position on your lap. 

4. Grip their sweet little arms in each hand and press them gently against the sides of their torso.

5. Shake and wiggle their precious furry moneymakers. 

6. Repeat until they run away, scratch or bite you.

There are several styles of cat dancing. The first is my favorite and works with fat, docile cats. This dance is demonstrated by Cheeto, our big, fat butterball.

Notice how he's getting down old school, and also note the belly shake in the middle. I liken this dance to the too cool guy in the club who just sort of rocks his upper body while scoping out the scene. Maybe sipping on a jack and coke.

A second style is the all out jam. This is demonstrated by Pepper (song by me. It's an original called "Kitty Cat Dance Time"). This dance is known for it's wide, erratic movements and lack of rhythm. It's equivalent is the girl in the club who is just feeling the music and dancing by herself.




Do you like how the song said "put your hands in the air"? I thought that was a nice touch by the "dancing assistant" (Hubby).

Finally,we have the kitty cat raver. Again, you see the wide arm movements and high energy. Just give this big guy some glow sticks, turn on some techno and you've got yourself a party.



Like the song on this one? This was during the Final Four (obvi) and the lyrics are as follows:

Watching the Final Four
(Go BUTLER)
Watching the Final Four
(Go DUUUKE)

It's classic, really.

So now you have all the resources and skills to have your own cat dance party, y'all!

And since we're talking about cats, this blog is now a proud fan of Salt's kitty friend, Baby G!

Head over to Salt Says and bling out your blog with this sweet little guy...then make those cats DANCE.

The It's Blogworthy Award: Beware of Gas Station bathrooms because someone might tickle you

 [ Have you joined the It's Blogworthy Facebook group yet? Rumor is, it's a really cool place to be. But that's just what I heart.]

I thought I'd start a new feature on It's Blogworthy to celebrate the most blogworthy people, places and things in some arbitrarily selected categories.

The first award is for Excellence in Gas Station Bathroom Sketchiness.

My many travels around the East coast of the USA have taken me to many a sketchy gas station, and due to a combination of coffee addiction and a small bladder, I've witnessed a variety of gas station bathrooms, truly the most disgusting, germ infested places on the planet. Actually, the only thing worse than a gas station bathroom is a gas station shower. I don't want to even think of the unspeakable acts that go on in a gas station shower.

There were many contenders for this coveted (by no one) prize. There was the bathroom in South Carolina celebrating Christmas with an exquisite, tiny Christmas tree in the corner and garland on the door. Then there was the bathroom in North Carolina that was located on the outside of the gas station. Here's how that transaction went:

Me: Do you guys have restrooms here?
Happy Cashier: We sure do! [ grins ]
Me: Well. Can I...use it?
Happy Cashier: SURE! [ grins ]
Me: Is it....somewhere....around here or....?
Happy Cashier: [ hands me a key attached to a full-on women's room sign ] [ grins ]
Me: [ thinks twice about this whole having to pee thing ]

But this bathroom wasn't quite sketchy enough. NO, it takes a special type of creepy to receive this incredible award.

The first annual Excellence in Gas Station Bathroom Sketchiness belongs to....

THE CITGO STATION IN SPARKS, GEORGIA!

Looks normal, right? We found this little gem on our way back from West Virginia, right off I-75!

I didn't say this award was for excellence in PUMP sketchiness, did I?

Once you get to the inside of this fine establishment, it's like a wonderland of filth and negligence. The hallway to the bathrooms was dark and foreboding, with one single flashing light bulb. There weren't real doors on the bathrooms, just the old tyme-y swinging cowboy doors. The stalls had doors, though (thank God), however, the men's room door was WIDE open and some guy was in there all, "hey, just washing my hands and being hygienic" but WITH THE DOOR OPEN. I know it's just hand-washing, but where are your boundaries, dude?

The women's room door was also wide open when I walked in. And this is where I found this wondrous specimen.

Here's where you stop to get "healthy". You do see these in pretty much any run-of-the-mill truck stop, but here's what made it special:

Super gross, y'all! I'm all Prudy VonPruderson up in here, but not so much that I can't snap a few picture phone pictures. Sorry for the terrible quality; it says, "Six Different Items in Rotation to Enhance Personal Encounters". Not with a 10 foot pole, people.

Congrats, Citgo in Sparks, GA, for your award.

Display it proudly!

How to make March Madness predictions without knowing a thing about basketball: A primer

Yesterday marked the first day of my (one and only) most favoritist sports season of the year: Selection Sunday for the NCAA Tournament.

I didn't have any brothers or male cousins my age. Dad just sat around watching football by himself while Mom, Sarah and I would make up ridiculously complex family stories with our Barbies or set up a My Little Pony castle or sometimes let the sun touch our precious skin whilst drawing stuff on the sidewalk with chalk (we didn't get out much). Sports weren't in our vocabulary.

Fast forward 13 or so years when I was dating my college ex who was obsessed -- LITERALLY OBSESSED -- with bowling. Guys, he had, like, 11 balls. I'm not even exaggerating about that. And he had a robo-brace to keep his arm in place when he bowled, a little powder bean bag to keep his hands dry and a bag for all those balls (I said balls twice!!!!) Also? On the college bowling team. And we dated for three years, by the way. (Fail.)

Anyway, as nobody really considers that a real sport and I didn't learn much about sports from him, let's fast forward another five years to my third month dating my husband. We were in the thick of March Madness and I'd seen some extra-excitable  behavior, but nothing compared to when Kentucky lost to Michigan State in the Final Four and he sulked into another room and came out in Cincinnati Reds gear. Basketball season, he said, was OVER.

I've got a bunch of dooseys from our game watching together (how about the time he accidentally busted a bag of tortilla chips while stomping around during a game? That was awesome.) I love him and like to support him and it's only fair considering how many hours he spends watching trash like the Bachelor and American Idol with me.

In the past 6 years, I've realized I am much more invested in sports if there is:

1. a good story associated with it (a player who donated a kidney to a sick kid, for instance)
2. drama involved (coaching or recruitment scandals) or 
3. a super-hyped match-up.

The above reasons are why I love the NCAA Tournament. AND I love making my predictions, which has been a tradition with Hubby and I. I usually beat him because the less you know, amazingly, the better you fare. Actually the only time I didn't beat him was the year I decided to get all fancy and do a little "research". He's shared a few little tips that have helped me tremendously with my predictions, and bloggy friends, I'm passing them on to you (and a few of these are my own recipes for success):

• At least one 13 will beat a 4.
• At least one 12 will beat a 5.
• At least one 10 will beat a 7.
• At least one 11 will beat a 6.
• For closer match-ups, look at the overall regular season record.
• Also, consider how close they are playing to their home court.
• If neither of these make it any clearer, choose based on some arbitrary thing: Which of the two teams is wearing your preferred color? Are they from a location you've visited before? Or want to visit? Do you remember one of their players from a news story you read? Do you like the way their name sounds (I will always choose Gonzaga)?
• If you are playing with a significant other or male friend, make sure you make their team lose the second round unless they are really good. It won't help you win but it's super fun to watch the color drain out of their face when you announce your prediction.
• Don't make really dramatic upset predictions because usually it's a crap shoot and then it will screw up your whole bracket.

There you have it; an almost fool-proof way to probably beat everybody else in their bracket. If I missed anything or you want to share your secrets (it's just between us and also the entire internet!), leave 'em in the comments! Go print off your own bracket and pretend like you care about basketball for a couple of weeks.

Tune in tomorrow when I'll explain how I make prediction based on mascots, with my first guest blogger!


*Image via

Snuggies: No longer just humiliating for humans

A few weeks ago, Jamie Tweeted that she wanted to get a small dog just so she could dress it in a dog Snuggie.

Now, dogs are a big responsibility. Like on the scale of most responsibility to least, it goes like this:

Most

• Children
• Dogs
• Husbands
• Plants
• Cats
• Fish

Least

Jamie, you don't have to buy a small dog and dress it in a dog Snuggie because I did it for you. You're welcome. All of you are welcome. She seemed pretty pumped about my rad dog and dog Snuggie and wanted me to blog about it, or at least that's how I took her excitement.

I am admitting here and now for all the blogiverse to see that we are proud owners of a University of Kentucky Snuggie. I was not sold on the idea of Snuggies. Then my hubby decided he needed that UK Snuggie more than anything in the whole world and would pretty much cease to exist right then and there if he didn't order it (this is pretty common at my house). So then we had a Snuggie. And like Lays potato chips, you can't have just one.

We decided to get a Snuggie for my Mom, sister and our dog, Truffles. If we were going to be humiliated with a thin, backward robe, then we'd all be humiliated together. Get enough shame in one room and it just cancels out.

So enjoy these pictures of my dog wallowing in complete, total abject mortification.

"My shame is unbearable. Please tell me I'm adopted." (You are.)

Sister with Truffles, sporting their Snuggies.

 Which one of these two living things willingly put on a Snuggie? I'll give you a hint: It isn't the one who eats cat litter and chases squirrels. Truffles is all, "If I look super cute at the camera, they will totally take this thing off me." Nice try, Truff. 

Snuggie party! Only cool people invited. And dogs.

This was taken right after we opened up Christmas presents and Mom and Sissy got their own Snuggies. So of course we had to take pictures in our Snuggies because we're awesome like that. Like how we're all pointing to the dog? Truffles is obviously just trying her best to get through this terrible time in her life but we're calling attention to her with all the pointing. 

When we'd put that thing on her she would get SO hot. Like the dog Snuggie really did what it was intended to do and then some. She'd usually just sit wherever she was when we Velcroed it on and would lay exactly like she is laying in the picture above and just pant up on a freaking storm. It's not funny except that it totally is funny.

And I think it's pretty clear that as soon as I have children, they are getting dressed in ridiculous outfits, pretty much from day one.

There you go, Jamie, hope it's everything you dreamed it would be (go check out her site: Daydream Believer; she blogs about spam mail and shaving. LOVE it.)

Our Disney Sports Weekend (Volume 3): I probably won't quit my day job. Probably.

If you've missed them, Volume 1 and Volume 2 of this epic trip.

So during our getting famous and not getting killed, we tried a new feature at Hollywood Studios which is the Animation Station. I might have just made up that name, but it accurately describes the attraction. It's part of the animation "studio" that used to be a really legit studio until they decided computer animation was the way to go. How it's mostly a place to get awesome pictures taken with Disney characters. And they also pretend actual animation goes on here.

The Animation Station is a 20-minute class in which a Disney employee who is an artist teaches guests how to draw Disney characters using basic shapes (apparently how real cartoonists do it). We took the class three times during the weekend and learned to draw Donald, Goofy and Mickey.

First we learned Donald:

 

My Donald.

 

Hubby's Donald (Clearly mine is better)

Next was Mickey:

 

How awesome is my Mickey, anyway?

Hubby wouldn't let me post his because he said it was too horrible. I probably could have posted it anyway because he doesn't read this, but I'm a really nice wife.

The last class, we drew Goofy:

 

 

Hub's Goofy.

 

My Goofy.

So I know by now you're all totally jealous of my drawing skills, but please note that I am not planning on making this a career because it was stressful, y'all! There were no erasers on those bad boy pencils! But I do sort of kick butt at drawing Disney characters.

To thus ends my fabulous journey to Orlando.

I had every intention of posting this yesterday, but we're suffering from Man Cold 2010 (the sequel) at my house which is sucking every spare bit of energy from everyone that lives here.