Showing posts from October, 2012

Drama haters.

"Why did he bring that jerk to this party? He KNOWS we just broke up, and he knew I would be here. Ugh, why is he trying to cause so much drama?!"

"Everyone who's trying to cause drama by telling people what I said can all just kiss my [expletive]! Why don't you try to live your life instead of living through mine!"

"I'm soooo tired of the drama!"

Don't you just love it? 

Surely, I'm not the only person who has noticed something about the self-proclaimed drama haters. (Should that be "haterz"? I don't know how the kids are spelling it these days.) It's something completely contradictory, which is why it amuses me so.

It is simply that those who say they hate it the most are actually it's biggest fans. But you already knew that, didn't you?

For any of you who were not already privy to that little nugget of information, I'm sorry to shatter any illusions you may have had. But, really. I dare say it is no surprise…

Top 5 reasons walking is bad for you.

Most work days, I walk on my lunch hour, sometimes with coworkers and sometimes alone.We drive out to a little pond with a walking path around it. (The irony of driving somewhere to walk in circles is not lost on me.) One lap around it is approximately six-tenths of a mile, according to a sign posted out there. (For those who insist on reducing the fraction, that would be... carry the 2... divide by pi... cosine equals adjacent over hypotenuse... three-fifths of a mile. Or we can go with decimals: 0.6 miles. I think you get the idea.) I aim for about 2.5 miles per day.

As we all know, walking has numerous health benefits. To summarize, it's good for your body, good for your brain, and good for your mood.

That's the A side of the record. But there's always a B side. Let's discuss...

The negative side effects of mid-day walking.

1.) Sweating. When you do any more than take a nice, slow stroll, you are (well, I am) going to sweat. This means not only looking like a hot mess w…

Happy Little Birthdays.

Google informed me that today would have been the 70th birthday of everyone's happy, little painter, Bob Ross! I kinda wish he were still around to show us the Joy of Painting. He could do incredible mountain-scapes, right?!

Thanks to, I learned "5 (Happy Little) Things You Didn't Know About Bob Ross."

1. He was in the US Air Force for 20 years.
2. He did the TV series Joy of Painting for free, making his income from his eponymous company Bob Ross Inc., selling art supplies, how-to videos, etc.
3. He also didn't sell his paintings.
4. He had a Dr. Doolittle streak. He nursed an alligator back to health in his bathtub as a child in Florida.
5. Mind-blowing: he apparently didn't love his 'fro. He kept it because he knew cutting his hair might hurt his brand.

We loved his 'fro, though, and in honor of it and his amazing landscapes, PBS has done a fun Bob Ross Remix.


Doctor, may I put my pants back on?

Did you know that to properly examine a hand, one's pantaloons must be removed?

I recently went to see a vascular doctor about something potentially wrong with my hand. A vein in the palm was raised a little. My family doctor, who I'd first asked about this, suggested I have a vascular doctor look at it since I was concerned enough to bring it up. Sure, why not? The appointment was set, I'd gotten my new patient paperwork in the mail to fill it out in advance and bring with me, and I just had to wait for the day to come.

Soon enough, it's appointment day. I find the vascular doctors' office easily and arrive early. Good start.

In the lobby, I turn in the paperwork and quickly check in. Nice and easy.

I'm called back promptly at my appointment time. Excellent. 

The nurses assistant is in the exam room moments later taking my blood pressure and checking my personal information. This is all so efficient!

As the N.A. prepares to leave the room, she says, "Okay, you&…

A Friday link for you to enjoy.

If you've not yet discovered, please, please, do so now.

You get exciting little tidbits such as:

As Marty from The Campaign would tell you, "Google it. It's worth a Google."

Happy Weekend!

Postmortem predation.

Lizzie is my cat. She is fat and very pretty, mostly white with dark gray spots, and her nose looks like a little gray heart. She lays on her back with all paws in the air just like a dog. She likes to sit by recently-worn shoes. It's a little weird. She has a trilling meow; our friend says she must be Castilian because she really rolls her R's. She's just the most adorable thing. Usually.

An ex-boyfriend's sister once gave me a magnet for my fridge with a picture of a cat licking its chops and the phrase, "There is no snooze on a cat who wants breakfast." Too true. Lizzie is served her meals at 7a.m. and 7p.m. To make sure we don't oversleep and miss her breakfast time, it is often her pleasure to jump on the bed and walk on the pillows, stand on my hair, all the while loudly meowing and poking me in the face with her sharp little claw. This can begin as early at 5:45. On a workday, it's tolerable. It's most likely to occur on Saturday, though, an…

Punkin Joes.

In honor of October and pumpkin-flavored everything, I share this tale of a failed culinary experiment. 

I used to follow a blog dedicated to inexpensive, tasty, healthy meals. A guest post by a registered dietician featured several recipes with "surprising healthy ingredients." One in particular intrigued me. The ingredient cost was low, it was a dish of which I am very fond, and this was supposed to be a healthier version. Why not, right?

The recipe was for a healthy version of sloppy joes. (Sing with me! Sloppy joe, slop-sloppy joe!) Who of us meat-eaters doesn't love a good sloppy joe?

This recipe, being healthier, called for ground turkey instead of beef, and had the usual ketchup (I always used tomato sauce, but found a lot of recipes call for ketchup), onion and chili powder type ingredients. The secret ingredient was a 15-oz. can of pumpkin. Weird, right? That was my first thought. I decided to make it anyway, just to see how it turned out.

Oh, it turned out alright…

Dear media: What do you want from me?

Dear media,

I appreciate all you do. Really. I never want to seem ungrateful to you. Did I not recently mention in another post that it was you, and you alone, who assured me that pork really is the other white meat? But I have some problems with you. Allow me to explain.

First, you show us the commercials for pizza with cheese in the crust; shiny, freshly glazed doughnuts; seemingly mouth-watering meals at overrated chain restaurants; and all manner of chips and snacks and other horrible, delicious things we love to eat. Then we have recipes in magazines and online for butter-soaked sugar bombs (for a delicious post-dinner or after-school treat!). And Food Network and Pintrest recipes that are really easy--only need 3 blocks of cream cheese and two pints of heavy cream. (Serves 2.)

Then, media, you become contrary. You give us the ads for health clubs. The terribly annoying commercials from our local vitamin and nutrition store (with the yelling, ragged-out voice of a wannabe scream roc…

These quotes are "inappropriate."

'Tis election season (oh, the joy), and that means the campaign signs are being routinely stolen by the evil (whichever party you hate) from where they were placed on the sides of the roadways the good guys (whichever party you love). Putting aside how much sign stealing bothers me, the thing I enjoy (oh yes, enjoy) about campaign signs is the flagrant misuse of quotation marks. 

A single example: A few weeks ago, my husband and I got an after-work adult beverage at a bar near our home. Across the street was a sign.

Re-elect [candidate] "Sheriff"
So, is he not actually the sheriff now? Are these like sarcastic air quotes? What is he if not a real sheriff, but a "sheriff"?
For what it's worth, their name gives away a pretty solid clue as to their primary intended use. For marking quotations. As in, things other people have said. Not for emphasizing. Not for highlighting. For quoting. I don't want "real" ice cream. I want REAL ice cream, thankyouvery…

Autumn is Awesome.

Here in good ol' North Florida, we're experiencing something that is quite foreign to us. It's put us in good moods. It's caused us to throw caution to the wind and open our windows so that we can FEEL the wind. Inside! Inside our houses! With the AC not running!

I think the term bandied about by Yankees (such as those in North Georgia and Tennessee) is "cool, fall weather." And it. Is. Glorious.

I don't know about all ladies in this entire U.S. of A., but I think it's not a terrible exaggeration to say that most of us gals (and the fashion-forward men) long, desperately, to wear adorable (or dashing) fall fashions. Sweaters! Scarves! The most adorable jackets! And boots. Oooohhhh, boots.

(Side note: I'm not one of the Southern proud who can wear flip flops in all weather conditions. I adore a good closed-toe shoe. My feet are frequently at a temperature somewhere between "Arctic" and "Polar Ice Caps, Pre-Global Warming." But even…

Football and smack-talk.

Those of you who know me (and I doubt anyone would bother reading this if they didn't) know that I am a Seminole. And those of you who know me also know my husband. And he is a Gator.

And we still love each other.

Here's why: I don't know much about football. He does.

Now, I graduated from Florida State University, as did my mom, sister, and lots of other classy, classy, super awesome people I know. My husband graduated from the University of Florida, as did some other people I know. 

See what I did there? It's already happened. The Seminoles and Gators are serious rivals. I can't talk about it without making a snide (and I like to think, to him, adorable) comment. 


He can talk circles around me when it comes to strategy and plays and who they should use because it's the 4th quarter and their energy is flagging and other such football-y things. I know so little that I can't even give you a good description of how much he knows. It's like trying to expla…

Plaid sausage.

So, I have this one dress. It's tailored, work appropriate, and makes me look sharp. When I wear it, I'm passable as a real life grown-up. As a *coughcoughcough*-year-old who is frequently mistaken for a high schooler (or maybe college freshman), that's really saying something. I love this dress.

And sometimes I hate it. 

Here's the thing about fitted, tailored clothing. Anything fitted is always just 5 pounds or an especially heinous period away from being uncomfortably, unflatteringly tight. Being that this particular frock is a sensible taupe (with subtle plaid detailing), when I wear it whilst toting more water weight (or cookie weight) that I care to, I risk looking like a bit of sausage stuffed into a casing (with subtle plaid detailing). 

I want to be fair to sausage. Generally, I have very positive feelings about sausage. After all, pork is the other white meat--the TV commercials assured me. I really enjoy a good breakfast casserole or a lasagna bolstered by the …


I’ve always wanted to write. But I have never known what to write about. Plus, I’m really quite lazy, and real writing requires time and energy and effort. And skill. Still, I’m pretty sure that my mindless musings MUST be interesting to you all. I don’t get out much, but I do still have friends (and, bonus!, even a brand-spanking-new husband) so I must not be a total loss. All of this leads to me pointing out the obvious: blogging is perfect for me. 

Now, let's be serious for a moment. My day-to-day goings-on are pretty boring. But who's to say that it's not somehow, actually, really fun and awesome? I don't go to many cultural events, and my usual evenings out of the house involve watching TV at someone else's house. Different couch + different snacks = I'm livin', y'all!! At least I'll probably never be accused of trying to be Cooler Than Thou. (That's like being Holier Than Thou, but much more annoying.)

So, welcome! And let’s begin.