I'll be watching you

Beau and I have an out-of-town acquaintance whom we don't see very often. But whenever we do hang out with him, he does something... interesting.

He has some sort of GPS software installed on his wife's phone. And he sits and watches her every move on his own phone.

The phone is always out. And he's always keeping track.

Though we're usually the types to ask about it, something holds us both back.

Is it just me, or is that creepy?

If beau had something similar installed on my phone, I'd hit the ceiling. And then I'd hit the door.

Whatever happened to trust?

Am I overreacting?

Creepasaurus rex!

Darwinism in action

Overheard:

My landlord placed the carbon-monoxide detector near the vent and it kept going off.
So I moved it.

Two poses we could retire

Men's magazines, women's magazines. It doesn't matter. These poses are ubiquitous.

And annoying.

The I'm-gonna-hike-up-this-tiny-dress pose.
It's already a tiny dress. And if I bought/am reading the magazine, it's not that kind of magazine. I don't wanna see what you do/don't have under there. Didn't anybody teach you to keep your dress down?

The thumbs-in-the-panties/bikini bottoms-threatening-to-yank-them-down pose.
Quite the threat. Pull up your pants and call your mom. She's got a speech all ready for you.

Sigh. Again, annoying.

Idiot savant showcase

As I drove home from Target a few weeks ago, I realized that I could--within 20 cents--remember the price of every single item I'd purchased on a large grocery trip.

Sad. Sad. Sad.

Attention fellas

If you're having girlfriend trouble and you're sitting with a table of friends wondering what to do, listen to the girl at the table (if there's one there).

It's not that men don't know. It's just that men aren't women.

Listen to the girl at the table.

Sage advice. :)

Saturday afternoon at the biker bar

The weather on Saturday was about as perfect as it gets. Sunny, breezy, not too hot.

Perfect drinkin'-outside weather.

We went to Golden and had a seat on the patio at The Buffalo Rose, where I had my first margarita of the season.

Luckily, I was the only woman there who was concerned about sun damage (if you're a biker, you're out in the sun all day anyway), so the only shady table was free. We had a nice view of Table Mountain and the people-watching was excellent!

First, a few sartorial remarks:

• Just because you can wear it doesn't necessarily mean you should.
• If you're wearing a tie-dye T-shirt, don't tuck it in. 
• If your boobs rest comfortably on your belly, it might be time to invest in a good foundation garment.

The best show of the afternoon happened right in front of us. There was a couple sitting nearby. She was wearing a dress that is best described as one big tube top--without underthings. Her middle-aged yuppie boyfriend had to be on e, because he could NOT keep his hands off of her. This is pretty much what went down all afternoon.

This was the least offensive moment. He was rubbing her belly, leaning her back to jam his tongue down her throat, and--classiest move of them all--dropping his chapstick so that he could crouch under the table and look up her dress.

I nearly lost my appetite for the onion rings we'd ordered.

But I soldiered through. We couldn't finish the last one, so we had a contest to see who could take the best photo of it (we were sitting outside at a bar with margaritas; onion-ring photoshoots are high art!).

I'll let you decide who won.

To cap off the day, we saw this pink IROC on the way home. HOTT!

Dad's southernisms

Dad was born and raised in Paris, Texas, and--despite having lived outside of Texas longer than he's lived in Texas at this point--he still has the Best Accent In The World. The southernisms are the best. Little gems that have become a part of life in our family.

Here are three of my favorites.

Sometimes, you just gotta talk plain to people. This one is self-explanatory. And it's always true.

You look like a dyin' calf in a hail storm. I usually got this when I was being particularly pathetic and whiny when I was growing up.

And, by far the worst one, which he's never used to describe anyone knows personally...

If she had as many stickin' out of her as she's had stuck in her, she'd look like a porcupine.

The best thing about my bitchin' Burt Reynolds album

It's not the album name, Ask Me What I Am, or the bitchin' song titles (The First One I Lay With, Till I Get It Right, She's Taken A Gentle Lover, A Room for a Boy Never Used [HUH?], etc.).

It's this AWESOME fold-out poster of Burt, complete with powder-blue polyesther leisure suit and white boots. 

 Work it, baby! WORK IT!

Latest addition to my bitchin' vinyl collection

 

Awwww yeah! Beau knows how to find the classics!

Boy George will fit in nicely with Burt Reynolds, John Travolta, Eddie Murphy,

and Shawn Cassidy.

Extreme couponing

I'll admit it; I find this show really interesting. These nutty women (and a few men) spend 30+ hours a week clipping coupons and planning shopping trips. Then they clear the shelves and pile up a $1,279.72 total at the register only to walk out having spent only $36.09.

Riveting stuff.

It's especially interesting to see how proud they are of their stockpiles, which are usually worth $15,000+ (come the zombie apocalypse, these homes are where you want to be; deodorant, body wash, Gatorade, and Froot Loops for all!).

And that's all well and good.

Until I go to the store and see this.

Bare shelves in nearly every aisle.
REALLY?
You needed ALL of the kitty litter?
ALL of the bread?
ALL of the cereal bars?

Good Lord, people. Leave one package or two for the single girl who has no room/need for a stockpile.

Sigh. Grrrrr.