Sometimes, I do things that I know I probably shouldn’t do. Some of these things are grey areas, some are just outright wrong. Am I a horrible person? You decide…
Recently, I've started taking Newsweek from of the hotel gym. I’m paying for the hotel… shouldn’t that cover it?
I regularly make not-so-friendly “hand gestures” to other cars when I’m driving. People are idiots.
I order expensive wine when I travel for work and can expense it. Just can’t resist it.
I enjoy a little bump n' grind at the slip inn now and again. What can I say?
Sometimes I eat my roommates’ chips or crackers without asking. Sorry roommies. Will you forgive me?
I prefer CNN over Fox news. I make no apologies.
I read the sex column in magazines. Is that a crime?
Ahhhh. Feels good to get that off my chest.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
it's about to get all political up in here.
I must admit I have not cared a great deal about politics since my days back at ole RHS. I was the VP of Young Democrats and an avid hater of all things George W. Bush. But, most of those political convictions came from my mother and knowing that my best friend's dad was a Democrat state senator who was a personal friend of William Jefferson Clinton. Clinton was a Democrat, so I was a democrat. I cheered when states went blue and then I went to college...my political convictions became my own and somewhere down the line I became a conservative Democrat, some might even call me a liberal Republican.
I cannot say that I am a Hillary supporter. But, I also cannot stand that women bash her without learning about her. I am not a super-feminist Nazi, but I am an independent woman who was taught that I can do anything I want if I put my mind to it. Hillary's doing it. She's blazing a trail. How can you not support that? How can you not respect her? You can not agree with her policies all day long, but why in the world would you fervently disagree with a woman that you only know as Bill's wife? Do some research, you might just like her as a person. I know I do.
* this is not a political ad.
Monday, February 18, 2008
wait. what?
In high school I made really good grades and was super involved in everything.
I was even in Spanish Honor Society. So, tell me then why my Spanish teacher, Senora Binns, found it hard to believe that I was in college. What made me seem like I wasn't college material? Maybe it was the tardy* she gave me in 11th grade.
It was the only tardy I got in my 13 years of education in the Russellville School District.
* I would like to note that I was in the classroom on time, I just wasn't in my seat.
I was even in Spanish Honor Society. So, tell me then why my Spanish teacher, Senora Binns, found it hard to believe that I was in college. What made me seem like I wasn't college material? Maybe it was the tardy* she gave me in 11th grade.
It was the only tardy I got in my 13 years of education in the Russellville School District.
* I would like to note that I was in the classroom on time, I just wasn't in my seat.
Friday, February 15, 2008
R.I.P.
On the eve of my move to the city of Dallas in the State of Texas, Reggie said it would be best if we traded cars. He thought it would be best if I drove a car instead of an SUV in the big city. I didn't agree, but economically it was going to be best. So. I inherited a lovely 2003 Chevy Malibu (with LEATHER seats).
The 'bu has served me well. Decent gas mileage, acceleration that beats most of the DART buses, hot leather seats on a really hot summer day and of course the sun-roof that is stuck in the closed position. I can tell you exactly how many nights I've spent cruising the city with the windows down and the sun-roof open: zero.
All in all, it has been a fine automobile. Spacious, luxurious and oh-so-classy. I salute you, 'bu. Thank you for transporting me to work daily and thank you for not breaking down in south Dallas after 5pm during rush hour, it was with that gesture that reminded me just how considerate you really are.
R.I.P Chevy Malibu.
Humberto did not get the best of you. I did and I believe that with my whole heart.
The 'bu has served me well. Decent gas mileage, acceleration that beats most of the DART buses, hot leather seats on a really hot summer day and of course the sun-roof that is stuck in the closed position. I can tell you exactly how many nights I've spent cruising the city with the windows down and the sun-roof open: zero.
All in all, it has been a fine automobile. Spacious, luxurious and oh-so-classy. I salute you, 'bu. Thank you for transporting me to work daily and thank you for not breaking down in south Dallas after 5pm during rush hour, it was with that gesture that reminded me just how considerate you really are.
R.I.P Chevy Malibu.
Humberto did not get the best of you. I did and I believe that with my whole heart.
Monday, February 11, 2008
When I was in 4th grade my best friend prank called my grandmother. Now, my best friend writes blog posts about how I almost died at birth.
In 8th grade my best friend and I had a handshake. Now, my best friend is my emergency contact on my storage unit facility. Isn't it funny that a storage facility has an emergency contact option on the paperwork?
Sunday, February 10, 2008
fat? tired?
I was in the grocery store this morning and I saw a magazine with the headline, "Fat? Tired?" on it.
I would be willing to bet a lot of money that that magazine sold a lot of copies. What woman doesn't think she's fat? And who doesn't think they're tired? Genius. Genius.
The title of my first book will be, "Fat? Tired?"
I would be willing to bet a lot of money that that magazine sold a lot of copies. What woman doesn't think she's fat? And who doesn't think they're tired? Genius. Genius.
The title of my first book will be, "Fat? Tired?"
Thursday, February 7, 2008
tax season.
I'm really confused at how I became an adult. I'm responsible for my own taxes (Reggie, for some reason has confidence that I can conquer Turbo Tax), I have a job with an actual title and lots of responsibilities, I make plans to travel across the country without consulting my parents and as of recently, I attend happy hours with doctors. Not just doctors, established doctors. I have nothing to talk to these doctors about. I am not an adult. I'm freaking out about doing my own taxes.
Growing up is so unfortunate. Unless, of course, I marry a doctor.
Growing up is so unfortunate. Unless, of course, I marry a doctor.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
just a regular saturday night.
It was a sleepy saturday night here in dallas this past weekend. LC, Morgan, Cari and I were just hittin up the usual (dinner at Chuy's -- which, maybe deserves its own blog sometime as to the reasons we frequent that place so much).
As we finished dinner, we discussed where we should go from there. The mardis gras festivities as Victory Park with lots of Cash McDougalsons? A movie at Northpark with all the a bunch of pre-teen parkies? Another night on the couch watching another television series on DVD? None of these options were appealing.
And then... lightbulb! Lets drive all the way around Beltline! That's right, Beltline Road. The one you see in DeSoto, Addison, Grand Prairie, and Mesquite. "The Line," we would affectionately come to call it. We couldn't wait to see if it all really connected, how long it would take to drive, and where it would take us. The oddity that all four of us had always wanted to drive around it was kind of scary.
So, that's what we did Saturday Night. Normal, right?
As we finished dinner, we discussed where we should go from there. The mardis gras festivities as Victory Park with lots of Cash McDougalsons? A movie at Northpark with all the a bunch of pre-teen parkies? Another night on the couch watching another television series on DVD? None of these options were appealing.
And then... lightbulb! Lets drive all the way around Beltline! That's right, Beltline Road. The one you see in DeSoto, Addison, Grand Prairie, and Mesquite. "The Line," we would affectionately come to call it. We couldn't wait to see if it all really connected, how long it would take to drive, and where it would take us. The oddity that all four of us had always wanted to drive around it was kind of scary.
So, that's what we did Saturday Night. Normal, right?
Sunday, February 3, 2008
lc was born with shit in her lungs.
legit. could explain a few things.
try googling meconium aspiration for details.
try googling meconium aspiration for details.
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