Thursday, August 28, 2008


A wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one's life, to one's home or homeland, or to one's family and friends; a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time.

I can honestly say that I yearn and long to see my friends from life (I say life instead of high school. I was friends with them long before high school began). It's a deep and incredible love that I have for this rare group of gUrls (women? young women? ladies?).

Life was so simple back in the day. My biggest worries were: roll my hair or straighten it? Homework or chat on MSN? Pack my lunch or buy the over-priced, under-cooked chicken strips in the Cyclone Cafe? Join Art Club for one more photo in the yearbook or save five dollars? Try to bring back Doc Martens or start the Reebok Classics fad? I mean, tough decisions. Can you imagine waking up and having to deal with that everyday? Every single day?

Oh, what I wouldn't give to have those worries as the hardest thing I have to deal with all week-- who knew life was so easy and simple back then? I would go back to my third period senior English class everyday if I could. I'd yell at Bran from across the room, I'd comb Bell's hair with the broom I found in the hallway, I'd tell ADub her sweater was ugly, I'd write poop on Corky's paper every chance I got and I'd definitely tell Megan to get rid of RW every time she made eye contact with me. Then, we'd skip down the hallway to lunch and live happily ever after. And we'd have it all on video. Or at least documented with a photo-op.

I've been extremely blessed in the area of friendships in my short life. I went to college and made friends there that can only be described as amazing. I moved to Dallas and ended up with another incredibly wonderful group of friends. But, at the end of the day there's just something about the people who have seen you pre-Chi, pre-learning how to put on make-up, pre-fashion savvy...the people who saw you cry at lunch in sixth grade, the people who sat next to you during 10th grade Biology when you cried your eyes out about seeing a frog, the people who taught you how to be a friend in the first place. I don't know, maybe I feel this way about them because they have millions of pictures they could blackmail me with me. Or maybe it's because they still know my parent's phone number and could call them at any minute and tell them everything I've ever done wrong (which is very little).

Or maybe I love them deeply because I realize the important role they played in my life. The role that led me to want to live a life for Jesus and have fun while doing it. And the fact that they made it through my junior high years, which could not have been easy for anyone.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

i've got this friend.

I've got this friend who is turning 24 today. You see, it's her birthday. On this day, 24 years ago she was extradited from her mother's womb and the world was forever better.

I've got this friend who challenges me, makes me laugh and calls me on a semi-regular basis to tell me about some man she just saw at Target with a shirt on that says, "My Body is a Wonderland." You see, she's just a really great friend.

I've got this friend who understands that it's ok to laugh at people as long as you feel bad about it later. You see, she's a living example of the Gospel.

I've got this friend who is so loyal she makes me look like Benedict Arnold. You see, she's just a great person to have involved in my life.

I've got this friend who is awesome. And you see now why I'm so glad she was born.

Happy Birthday, Brittany Diane Althea LeAnne Rebecca Mayes.
Happy Birthday.

Monday, August 25, 2008

pregnant, with her baby's daddy's baby.

One of my favorite, most loyal, trusted, hilarious and versatile (she has many talents) has finally gone public with the news that she is, with child.

She is carrying the baby of her baby's daddy and I could not be more excited to announce publicly, that: YES, I will babysit. Yes, I will do it often and YES, I will expect (and accept) some form of payment.

I also cannot wait to teach the baby some of my sweet dance moves and how to straighten hair! It will also be really fun to play and hide-n-seek with the baby! Meaning: I hide the find it!

And seriously, I can't wait for the Pardue baby to figure out how incredibly wonderful its/his/her parents are (the general wonderment about Auntee LC can go ahead and last a lifetime).

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

miss liukin if you're nastia.

Nastia Liukin is 18. She is an Olympic Gold Medalist. Shawn Johnson is 16. She is an Olympic Gold Medalist (Spoiler alert! That isn't on NBC until tonight. My apologies.).

Realizing this fact, I reached back into my bag of memories and tried to remember what productive things I was doing during those formative years of my youth. This is what I came up with: not too freakin' much.

At 16 I was...
...spending an abnormal amount of time watching the University of Tennessee women's basketball team on TV. I taped all of their games. Yes, taped. VHS.
...chatting a lot on the MSN Highway of Love. Russellville didn't have AOL, so we kicked it on MSN.
...spending a lot of time at the family dinner table doing geometry problems with Reggie.
...listening to a lot of heavy, abrasive, scary rap on the way home from basketball practice everyday. Sometimes we'd switch it over to Destiny's Child.
...working on my jump-shot a lot and preparing myself to accept a scholarship offer from Pat Summitt and the University of Tennessee. Old dreams die hard. And in this case, fast.
...trying to make up choreographed dances for the cheerleading squad.

At 18 I was...
...burning a lot of CDs for myself and others. Napster made me popular.
...driving a little red Corolla.
...answering to the name of, "Thriller."
...buckling up stuffed animals in the back of my little red Corolla because I thought it was funny.
...venturing to the Dixie Cafe with my gUrls and ordering only milkshakes and rolls.
...dancing by train tracks and cruising in mini-vans.
...spending a lot of time straightening my hair.

Clearly, that was time well spent. It prepared me for all the time I spend watching reality tv and blow drying my hair.

Monday, August 18, 2008

small town eye shadow.

I am not a gymnast-- I can barely do a kart-wheel, I have yet to master the forward roll and I've never been all that great at applying eye shadow.

I have an enormous amount of respect for gymnasts. The things they can make their body do impress me more than words allow me to convey. However, this amount of respect drops drastically, dare I say, when I see their eye shadow.

My gymnastic expertise ended at the age of four (or maybe five) when I quit taking the Friday afternoon tap-jazz-ballet class that also meant we got to tumble, so I bring very little to the conversation whenever Kerri Strug is mentioned, but I can tell you this-- I would be incredibly embarrassed to receive a gold medal (or any medal for that matter) and look like this:

Or this:

Sparkles? Blue with a red and yellow outfit? Where are these girls from?
Keep it simple. Keep it real. Go for the natural colors, because even then, if you fall off the beam AND the vault, you'll look better than all the medal winners. At least that's what she said.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

michael phelps. and his i-pod.

This post is being spun off a web site I read earlier regarding what Michael Phelps listens to on his i-Pod before a race.

Ahh, the games of the 29th (XXIX) Olympiad. Nothing quite like the summer Olympics to remind you of your childhood and all of your ill-fated dreams that have somehow fallen to the way-side and left you sitting at a desk all day. It's my understanding that the majority of most normal humans dream (or dreamt) of one day being an Olympic athlete. I am no different.

As a child, I roller-skated around my kitchen in my white and pink patent leather skates screaming, "I'm Kristi Yamaguchi!" By the time I outgrew my skates, I realized I was pretty far off from being Kristi Yamaguchi and it's only after watching hours upon hours of Olympic coverage that I realize just how far off from Yamaguchi I was, or am. Pretty dang far.

After watching the Atlanta games in 1996 and seeing mountain biking as an Olympic sport, I promptly made a trail in my yard and subsequently dominated it in no less than a week-- about the same time I realized I was not going to be an Olympic mountain biker. I still have a scar on my leg from a wreck I had winning that gold medal though. So, don't think I walked away empty handed.

All of that to say, watching Michael Phelps, who is but a few months my junior, makes me feel completely inadequate and unaccomplished, which I am, but I do not like to be reminded of it. What did Phelps do in his childhood that I didn't? We clearly had the same dreams and aspirations in our youth, but what has spurred him on in his quest to become the greatest Olympian of all-time?

Maybe it's what he listens to before he swims. In high school, I listened to Neil Diamond, Lee Greenwood and a very cheesy version of "Shout to the Lord," on repeat before soccer and basketball games. I realize now what a detrimental mistake that was.

Had I only listened to something more motivating maybe I'd be in Beijing winning gold medals for America.

My pump me up playlist now includes: Simply Red with their hit, Would I Lie To You, Gloria Estefan's Everlasting Love and The Pussycat Dolls' When I Grow Up.

See you at the London games in 2012.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

bffae (and random thoughts).

I keep running into people all over Dallas who start their conversations by asking me the same question, "Do you miss Britt?"
I decided to go public with it: yes, I miss Britt.
  • I finally had to get Texas tags on my car. It was much harder to do than switching over to the 214 area code. People might actually think that I am a Texan now. Let me assure you, I am not a Texan, I just live in Dallas. I have no desire to become a Texan, Dallas is just much cooler and more exciting than say, Monticello, Arkansas. I feel like I disappointed my father more than any child could ever disappoint a father when I put those tags on my car.
  • It is hot outside. If I didn't already have Jesus in my heart, I am thoroughly convinced that I would have invited him in after last week's heat wave. I mean, if it's this hot in Dallas, how hot is it in Hell?
  • I have decided that I am going to run for public office, probably around 2020. I think I'll have to delete my Facebook profile first though, so that could be a deciding factor in my decision to run or not.

Monday, August 4, 2008

a formal apology.

Dear Chelsie Hightower (of So You Think You Can Dance):

I am so sorry I did not vote enough last Wednesday night. Every fourth time I called, the line was busy. I thought you were safe. I gave up after 45 minutes of straight voting. I could've gone to bed later and voted more. I could've delayed brushing my teeth and got in another 30-40 votes. I could've threatened my friends lives if they didn't vote for you, but I didn't. I didn't do any of those things. I selfishly went to bed at 10pm. I prayed for your spot in the SYTYCD Finale, but it wasn't enough. It's my fault you aren't in the finals and I want to apologize formally: I am sorry I ruined your life.


not a psycho crazy fan, just a regular one

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