Made my Saturday

Beau and I had lunch on Saturday at a pub near my house. We got both the regular menu and the brunch menu.

This one item at the bottom of the brunch menu caught my attention and made my afternoon.

(it says Blue Plate Special: An ice cold can of PBR and a plate of bacon)

Stalking that you can dance to

1. Jenny, Jenny, you're the girl for me. You don't know me, but you make me so happy.
2. I want you to want me. I need you to need me. I'd love you to love me. I'm beggin' you to beg me.
3. Every single day. Every word you say. Every game you play. Every night you stay, I'll be watching you.
4. If I was invisible, then I could just watch you in your room.
5. I will follow him. Follow him wherever he may go.
6. I'd rather see you dead, little girl, than to be with another man.
7. You belong to me. Tell her you were fooling. You don't even know her. Tell her that I love you.

The very charming messages above are brought to you by the following:

1. Tommy Tutone
2. Cheap Trick
3. The Police
4. Clay Aiken
5. Little Peggy March
6. The Beatles (I shit you not)
7. Carly Simon

Why does stalking sound so much better when it's set to music?

And what are YOU going to be for Halloween, little girl?

I'm going to be a sexy iPhone!
I'm going to be a sexy garbage collector!
I'm going to be a sexy condor!
I'm going to be a sexy rendering-plant worker!
I'm going to be a sexy retail sales associate!
I'm going to be a sexy telemarketer!
I'm going to be a sexy butcher!
I'm going to be a sexy rocket scientist!
I'm going to be a sexy blogger!
I'm going to be a sexy zookeeper!
I'm going to be a sexy lumberjack!
I'm going to be a sexy grocery bagger!
I'm going to be a sexy breakfast-burrito vendor!
I'm going to be a sexy recycler!
I'm going to be a sexy vegan!

(I think you can see where I'm going with this)

I'm going to be a sexy dockworker!
I'm going to be a sexy transmission specialist!
I'm going to be a sexy...

My argument against the thong

I could tell you that they're uncomfortable, they cause infection, and that men aren't foolish enough wear them, but you already know that.

This is my argument.

Sure, VPL (visible panty lines, for those of you living under a rock) are not desirable. But how desirable is VAC (visible ass crack)? If you're wearing a thong with pants or a dress of a certain kind of fabric, the fabric... *ahem* settles right in, creating an even more distracting/distressing look than VPL ever did.

If we all wanted the world to see a big crease down our backsides, we wouldn't wear pants at all.

I'm just sayin'.

Would it kill you to smile?

I work in a friendly (sometimes overly friendly, but that's another story for another day) office. People say hello to each other. We all try to know a little about each others' lives. It's a creative, team-based environment, so we all try to help each other out.

And folks usually smile at each other when they pass in the halls.

Except for four.

These are the most sour-faced, dour people on the face of this earth. They are never friendly and they give the impression that they are much too good to smile back at you or even return a hello.

Who raised them? How did they get their jobs?

The rudeness of it drives me crazy.

I lament the death of common courtesy!!!

My favorite Beau story

A few years ago, he and I went to Glenwood Springs for the weekend. Glenwood Springs is a quaint, touristy little mountain town near Aspen.

Our first morning there, we woke up too late for the free continental breakfast (who eats breakfast before 8:00 on vacation?), so we ventured downtown to a nice little cafe.

The only downside to nice little cafes is that they're a little slow when it comes to service. And Beau's blood sugar was getting low (which is very dangerous for his health--and a little dangerous for our relationship because he gets pretty grumpy). As soon as he eats, he's his sweet self again.

Our breakfasts arrived, and as Beau started to dig in, he groused They're late with my toast.

I knew that more toast was on the way, so I offered him my toast in the interim.

And at that moment, that he uttered the phrase that would delight me and haunt him for the rest of his days:

I don't want YOUR toast. I want MY toast.

:)

Even if you're not a reader...

Don't say the following in the company of another human being:

I read a book once and the ending sucked. That's why I don't read anymore. 

*Sigh*

I concur!

(Courtesy of TheFrisky.com)

New-age experience

I went to a fair with Mom over the weekend. It's always the first weekend in October and we try to make it every year.

We walked around and looked at all of the wares folks had for sale (we bought, but only from nice people without high-pressure sales tactics).

Toward the end of the afternoon, we stopped at a booth with multiple stone/mineral pendants. Each one had a description card with it that told you how the stone would help you. We stayed for awhile, partly because the descriptions on the cards were so interesting, but mostly because we like pretty, shiny, sparkly rocks.

The woman at the booth was chatting with folks, letting them know which stones they needed (she was a little bit psychic). She taught one woman how to let the stone choose her.

1. Stand away from the other stones and put down your purse and other items. 
2. Hold the stone in question to your heart chakra.
3. Clear your mind. 
4. Ask God, Mother Mary, Allah, whomever (your higher power) if that's the stone for you.
5. Then wait. Your body will either be pulled forward or pushed back.* If you're pulled forward, it's right. If you're pushed back, you need to find a different stone.

*This apparently also works in the vitamin aisle at your local supermarket because vitamins are minerals too (though you might raise an eyebrow or two).

Not afraid to try something new (or look like a fool; ask any waitperson in the greater Denver area), I gave it a shot. 

I'll be damned if it didn't work. It was a really odd feeling, but I was pulled forward. I went home and tried with all of my vitamins. All but two pulled me forward (and the others pushed me back). 

Interesting. That's all's I'm sayin'.

New fake word

This time, I'm the guilty party.

Next time you're going for dinner at an Indian restaurant, you should call it...

Dindia!

(I'm ridiculously happy about this)