Saturday, December 11, 2010

Oh, The Adventures We Will Have!

Today was the day. It's been months. So many scars and scratches. I was finally going to take my dogs in to get their nails trimmed.

Petsmart is a wonderful store because they allow dogs. The employees are friendly animal lovers. The store has "Oops" stations in case your pet has a potty accident. They sell Christmas stockings and outfits for dogs. Holiday-themed outfits.

Basically, they understand how demented we dog owners are.

So, I packed up my 'little poops' and drove to their favorite store. We made a quick stop at the bank drive thru to deposit a check. Simon immediately began barking at the teller and would not stop. Ofelia scrambled over me, trying desperately to get out the window and attack him with her kissies. The man was prepared for cases like this and asked me if they'd like a treat. Smart man.

We continued on our way, the dogs waiting anxiously to discover what grand adventure we were going on this time. We exited the car and could not get inside fast enough. As they pulled me across the parking lot like mini sled dogs, they began barking at the police officer standing in front of the store who happened to be talking on his cell phone. I breathlessly apologized to him as I got tangled up in my two little monsters' leashes. He just chuckled and waved.

We made our trademark entrance into the store; Simon valiantly barked our arrival as Ofelia, panting all the way, struggled to make it to the nearest pair of legs she could find to jump up on. "Sorry!" I said. I found myself saying this a lot.

Legs slip-sliding all over the slick floor, we made our way to the nearest place without too many people where we met three kids who quickly fell in love with the pups. I tried and failed to gracefully untangle myself again and again as the children "oohed" and "awed" over the energetic little beasts. Finally, we parted ways and I awkwardly half-walked, half-dragged them over to the grooming salon. After a brief encounter with an elderly couple with two cautious golden retrievers, we made our way in.

We were greeted by the groomer. She was very friendly, but Simon did not want anything to do with her. He climbed up on my lap and held fast but I mercilessly released him to the strange lady with the clippers. After much crying and struggling, he was safely returned to the arms of his mama. I held all shivering twenty-plus pounds of him the entire time Ofie was being trimmed (she was very good, by the way). Afterward, I discovered I was covered in the hair he'd lost stressing out over the entire incident. I thanked the groomer and we were on our way.

I stopped to purchase some treats (they were good dogs, after all) and some stocking stuffers. I'd heard the store was having pictures with Santa and really wanted to take them over, but I forgot. It's just as well; I'm pretty sure that's bordering on animal abuse to subject my dogs to horrific nail trimming and then force them to sit on some old, overweight stranger's lap.

We arrived home, all three thankful to be there. I have such good doggies, even if they are a handful. At least they keep everyone entertained!

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Give Me Chocolate Or Give Me Death!

About a month ago, I decided I was going to eat better and exercise more and read labels and love my body. I'm trying to avoid high fructose corn syrup and anything with trans fat (FYI: "0 grams of trans fat per serving" does not equal "zero trans fat"). I've been trying to lay off sugar. Especially chocolate. But it's so hard! I've found that I'm addicted to the stuff. Out of desperation, I've turned to semi-sweet chocolate chips as a little snack when I feel the need.

But then I ran out.

A few days ago, I dramatically announced to James that there was no chocolate to be found in our house and I was now going to give up and die (well, no chocolate except for the reject Whoppers that came in the variety bag of candy I purchased for myself the trick-or-treaters. I'll never eat them; that'd be like someone lost at sea desperate for water and settling for sea water). He just rolled his eyes. How could he possibly understand the personal anguish I was experiencing?

After debating in my mind whether or not to bake some brownies from a mix (we had that too), I ultimately decided I was stronger than that. I could beat this thing!... (Could I just eat the mix without baking it..? NO!)

I went about my un-chocolate-filled business the next few days. Just today after work I went to the grocery store to get some pies for Thanksgiving, and I didn't buy any treats for myself. I told myself I could live until the next day, when I would allow myself to eat whatever I darn-well pleased - hydroginated oils? Ok!

I arrived home, triumphant and proud. My hubby greeted me and marveled at how I hadn't bought any candy while I was there. I beamed. "That's right," I said, "I'm being good!" He then told me he couldn't believe it, but he'd found a lost Kit Kat hidden among the hoards of terrible, terrible Whoppers. "What...?" I asked, "Really?" I went to inspect the contents of the rejected bag and found, to my shameful delight, two Kit Kats, Two Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, a Snickers, and a Crunch Bar, all of them King Size. He had picked them up for me while out and about because he loves me and can't stand to see his woman without chocolate. Or he just wanted me to shut up about having no chocolate to eat. No, I think it's because he loves me.

You better believe I pounced on that candy like there was no tomorrow. As I type, half a Kit Kat lies beside my keyboard. At least I waited until after dinner. I don't care if I'm going to stuff my face tomorrow. Today is for chocolate. I've been good!

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Nuh nuh nuh-nuh-nuh nananananananuh nuh-nuh-nuh!

After spending countless hours researching online, and making numerous trips to various music stores, my Jamesie got an electric guitar as an early Christmas gift. Apparently, he had wanted one last year, but I must not have thought he was serious about it because he (obviously) didn't receive one. About a month ago, he revealed to me that he was getting one for Christmas this year. (Are we that "married"? He can just tell me, not what he "wants" but, what he's "getting"? Ugh. Whatever.)

So, the search began. We made a trip to Music World or something [insert generic guitar store name here]. There was a van parked nearby that was black with flames painted on it. We were greeted by a sales clerk with a thick surfer dude accent. He knew his stuff and was very helpful. He knew countless facts and trivia about Metallica. I came to the conclusion that the van belonged to him.

Next, we visited a Guitar Center. We met an employee who was very helpful, knowledgeable, and eager to help us out. I quickly warmed up to him because he was nice and he was the least-creepy person working there. While making sure my 10-year-old nephew wasn't destroying anything and avoiding the leering stares from several employees, I learned, along with my hubby, a little more about guitars, guitar accessories, playing guitars, and, of course, Metallica.

We looked around, thanked the helpful employee, and left. After doing a lot of research and soul-searching, James wanted to return to this same location to make his purchase. He tried out a few models and did a lot of looking and figuring. And more looking. As he wandered through the store I followed loosely behind, acting interested in this or that. Half the time I actually was interested in 'this' or 'that', but as time wore on I was ready to leave with a guitar and all accessories needed to be awesome at it, and never, ever look back. Plus, I was hungry.

After an hour and a half, he had it narrowed down to two - what was all the hours researching online for? - but struggled to make a decision. I tried to assure him that whether he got this or that model, it would be great. I gave my two cents on the one I liked better than the other (it did help that this particular one was cheaper than the other, but it also suited him). But he couldn't make up his mind. So, I did the only helpful thing there was to do, and casually pointed out a third party that I'd had my eye on since we arrived at the store.

It really was a beautiful instrument. The body was a glossy, deep red wood with an interesting pattern to it that faded to black. The neck was embedded with mother of pearl detail. Here he was, basing his decisions on the quality of the pick-ups and the reliability of the brand and such. I liked this one because it was pretty.

He'll never, ever admit this, but he values my opinion and seeks my approval. All of a sudden, this guitar seemed like a good choice to him. It was made by a reliable brand, and it even had excellent pick-ups. Our helpful employee had good things to say about it, and so the decision was made. After acquiring all the necessary accessories to rock out, we made our way to the counter to pay. As we were concluding the purchase, he turned to me and said, "Well, since I got something today, we can go to a store and get you something, too." I can't believe I turned him down, but we had been in that Guitar Center for two hours and I was weary.

Now our home is filled with the sounds of electrified strings being strummed carefully, and slightly more profanity than usual. He really is getting quite good at it though. As I type, various riffs are flowing out of our spare bedroom. Black Sabbath, Nine Inch Nails, Deftones, Metallica (of course). He even played around with Journey's 'Don't Stop Believin'', just for me. He's learning fast, and loving it. I grabbed it at one point and played around with a few songs I knew back when I was motivated to play guitar. Some Coldplay and Dave Matthews Band songs are all I could remember off the top of my head. I started practicing a Deftones song he had gotten the tabs for, and he told me I was not allowed to learn it before he did.


I get it; it's his new toy. But I still picked it out!

The dogs aren't quite sure what to make of it, although they're handling it better than I anticipated.

I'm proud to say I'm his #1 fan.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Christmas In November

I'm upset.

I love Halloween and I love Christmas. I also love that forgotten holiday in between the two. Remember? It's called 'Thanksgiving'. Every commercial, ad, and store display you see will tell you to get out the tree, hang the stockings, and wrap those presents - THERE'S NO TIME, DAMN YOU!

I understand the way retail works; we've been receiving Spring 2011 items for the past month. You always need to keep ahead of the seasons. But what I absolutely loathe is the fact that some people get so excited about Christmas that they want to start celebrating it earlier and earlier and they think it's perfectly ok! I believe that if the world does end in December 2012, as was predicted by an intelligent, ancient people and a guy who wrote a bunch of vague ramblings back in the day, it will be due to our culture's increasingly insatiable appetite for more more MORE CHRISTMAS until we cause our world to collapse in on itself or spontaneously combust (I haven't decided which yet).

Before you declare me a 'Scrooge' or 'Grinch', let me explain something. Since November 3rd, thanks to my 'favorite' radio station FM100, I have been subjected to Christmas music eight hours a day, five days a week while I work. I catch myself singing or whistling along and I hate myself for it. I get the songs stuck in my head and bring them home with me. Don't get me wrong - most of these songs are getting me in a jolly good mood. I'm excited to put up my tree and go shopping. Some of that delight and excitement from being a kid waiting for Santa to arrive is still in me. But... it's too early! It's November! We haven't eaten any turkey yet, people! Plus, I'm pretty certain being forced to listen to 30 different renditions of 'Jingle Bell Rock' in one day is some form of torture.

There's the man singing 'Jingle Bells' who sounds like he's at a seedy lounge, wearing a plaid jacket with matching bow tie, holding a mic in one hand, cigarette and mixed drink in the other. There's an old-time rendition of 'The Twelve Days Of Christmas', which on bad days reminds me of the '99 Bottles Of Beer' song. There's 'It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year', which mentions "scary ghost stories" - I thought that was Halloween...

So many celebrities have capitalized on Christmas music. A few of these choices to croon out various holiday tunes are puzzling to me. Case in point: Neil Diamond. He's Jewish, mind you, but he churns out those holiday classics like nobody's business and I can't stand it. I can't stand the sound of that man's voice, and here's why: While my husband and I were living with his mother, the soundtrack to our lives for about three straight months - maybe more - was from the 1970's remake of The Jazz Singer starring Neil Diamond. It was on full blast, all day and through a lot of the night. You could hear the man belt out "they're coming to America!" no matter where you were in the house. Why, you ask? Why would people do this to themselves? His sweet grandmother was to blame. She's 82 years old and loves Mr. Diamond. She played that dvd over and over, never tyring of it. It is now a running joke between all of us, but the memories of hearing that soundtrack day after day after day haunt me. Months of therapy will be ruined due to this post.

Speaking of running jokes, there is a song that many of us at work absolutely love to hate. I don't know the actual title of it, but we lovingly refer to it as 'The Shoe Song'. It's about a guy who's out Christmas shopping and is standing in line behind a boy who's buying shoes for his mom. His dying mom. He fails to come up with enough money to pay for them. The man singing us this sad tale offers up the rest of the money, so that the boy's mother can have some pretty new shoes in case she "meets Jesus tonight". Some regard this as a 'feel-good' song, but it's just so depressing and out of place with all the 'Holly, Jolly Christmas' music that I can't help but scoff at it. It's almost as depressing as the song about child abuse in which the little girl sings: "Please don't let them hurt your children" or something like that. She's apparently praying to Jesus, asking Him to make it all ok for all the kids who get slaps on Christmas instead of gifts. Merry Christmas, Everyone!

How do I transition from that?

I have no idea.

Always trying to find the good in everything, I do have a handful of favorites.

My parents' love for Air Supply has given me an appreciation for what can only fall under the category of 'Wuss Rock'. So, when Air Supply comes on, playfully performing 'Sleigh Ride', I can't help but smile. Funny story - I actually met one of the members a few years back. I told him my parents loved Air Supply, failing to follow up with anything to say about my love for them. He was not amused. Oops. Almost as regretful as the time I met Jared Leto and all I managed to tell him was how much I liked him in Fight Club (I hadn't seen Requiem For A Dream yet). I'll never live that down! Never!

'I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas' is one of the few highlights of my listening experience, as is 'The 12 Days Of Christmas' as sung by The Muppets and friends.

I have to say, in all seriousness (of course, how can you get more serious than The Muppets?) that 'The Little Drummer Boy' is possibly my favorite of all. It's a beautiful, well-written song that often gets me teary-eyed. "Little baby (pah rum-pa-pa-pum) I am a poor boy too... I have no gift to bring... that's fit to give a king... I played my drum for Him... I played my best for Him!... Then He smiled at me... me and my drum." To me, it means that God and Jesus will take whatever we can give them - they aren't picky.

See? Look at me! I'm making posts about Christmas before it's even December! Curses! The premonitions are coming true! I'm being sucked into the holiday spirit against my will!

Happy Thankschristmas, everyone! I'm not too early, am I?

Friday, October 29, 2010

Scream Queen *not affiliated with the new Scream 4 movie coming out soon - it looks super dumb

So... this post originally had a disclaimer to it, warning all who wished to read on that there were to be references to gore and violence, as well as movie spoilers. It included a special apology to my mother. After much consideration, I've decided to edit myself, and make this less unpleasant to read. Basically, I wimped out. I don't want to assume that everyone reading this is as into horror movies as I am. So, here is the PG version of my strong PG-13 original post. Oh, and there are still spoilers.

I've always loved horror movies. I'm addicted to them. No matter how gory, stupid, puzzling, boring, or 80's they happen to be. I love them all. I don't know what this fascination is with being frightened, but I've always been partial to the scary side of life. When I was old enough to decide what I wanted to be for Halloween, I chose to be a skeleton. The costume was a black shirt and pants with glow-in-the-dark bones on them. I wore them as pajamas until I grew out of them. They. Were. Awesome.

In honor of Halloween, I've decided to list my thoughts and recommendations on some of the scariest movies I've seen thus far.

So, in no particular order...

Though this one is slow, and contains very little special effects, it's a classic, through and through. That score, the mask, that scene at the end when you think he's dead for good, but wait!

When this movie first came out, I was too scared to see it. But when I finally did, I fell in love. Original plot, great ending. Even though it spawned six sequels - one's in 3d, so you know it's good! - this one is the best one. James makes fun of me because every time I rent the newest one, I sit there critiquing it: "Oh, that's so stupid!... This is silly!... Oh, no sane person would do that!..." But I keep coming back for more.

That is silly.

The original, not the remake (although Vince Vaughn plays a good psycho). Classic. Apparently, this one blew audiences away, because the so-called heroine gets murdered early on in the film. Crazy! So good. So iconic. The last scene always gives me chills.

Shaun Of The Dead
This one falls under the category of 'comedy meets horror'. Basically, it's British humor with a dash of gore. The tag line is something like 'A love story. With zombies.' Perfect.

Do you want to see grisly, horrible, ungodly things which you can never un-see? Then watch this one. No, really - it's a great movie, but so dark and disturbing. My friend Jenny wanted some scary movie recommendations last year at Halloween, and I let her borrow this one. She has not asked for my opinion this year.

The Exorcist
This is another one I hadn't seen until Halloween of last year. My brother-in-law couldn't believe that I hadn't yet seen this horror classic, so I rented it that night and the next day told him to shove it! Just kidding about that last part; I actually rented it a few days later. Spooky movie. That girl has got the mouth of a sailor - yikes!

I have to admire the special effects artists from back in the days before computers did all the work. The make-up in these movies is amazingly grotesque. I remember being a small child, frightened of this movie based solely upon the cover. That's some effective make-up.

A Nightmare On Elm Street
Classic. Another one I have to admire for it's special effects. Yes, it's cheesy, like the majority of every movie in every genre that came out of the 1980's. But it's still effective today. Again, another one I feared as a child, without seeing any bit of the movie. I distinctly remember having a nightmare involving Freddy Krueger when I was four or five years old. I grew up rough!

The first time I watched this one was at my cousin Rachel's slumber party. It scared the dickens out of me, all due to one scene which was too horrifying for me to even watch. It involved a man hallucinating, I think. To this day, I have not seen this part of the movie, so I've never found out if this scene really was as terrible as I thought.

The Hills Have Eyes
I admit, the one I'm referring to is the - cringe - remake. Pretty disturbing. But I didn't feel the full affect until a couple years ago.
I was living in the Flaming Gorge area and on a day off, I decided to have an adventure. I had heard something about some unusual rock formations that were 'worth seeing'. I drove all by myself out to the middle of nowhere on about a three hour round-trip excursion with no map and no knowledge of what I would find upon my arrival. After a brief wrong-turn into a rock quarry, where I'm sure I attracted some puzzled looks, I found my way to the literal Middle Of Nowhere. It was deserted. A small place to park, a creepy bathroom, and some rocks. My thoughts immediately turned to this movie (see, this was going somewhere). I cautiously took a few pictures and hastily returned to my vehicle and headed back from whence I came. There were many, many more marvelous rock formations to behold, but I was not going to end up like those people.

A grandiose waste of time, but an adventure, none the less (the movie, as well as my trip).

The Fourth Kind
I've never that been interested in aliens, but this movie makes you wonder. It claims to show actual footage of  'weird, crazy happenings' on a split screen with actors portraying said mysterious events. After watching this I was skeptical, but part of me really wondered if it was real. So I looked it up on the interwebs. I feel very foolish and angry at how silly I was to think that was actual footage. Curse you, Hollywood!

Decent movie. One of M. Night's first, before things started going really down hill (trees killing people? C'mon!) James and I were watching this a few weeks ago and I guess I forgot how much I like it. It was made before we all knew how messed up Mel Gibson was. Those were the days...

So, after watching The Fourth Kind and Signs in one week, I've decided I'm afraid of an alien invasion. May God have mercy on our souls.

The Sixth Sense
Can't mention Signs without a nod to this gem. Very original and spooky. After all the spoilers I've thrown out in this post, I will not ruin this one for anyone who still hasn't seen this movie.

The opening scene scared me when I was little. But I absolutely loved this movie and all that spawned from it. I loved the cartoon. I loved the toys. I loved Slimer. And I still do.

The 'Burbs
Ok, so this one falls more under the category of 'comedy', but some scenes of it scared me a little as a kid (one of which, coincidentally, is from The Exorcist). Neighbors from hell! It's got some funny lines and great cast. Go rent it! Tom Hanks is in it. You like Tom Hanks.

The Lady In Black
I remember only one thing about this movie. It had something to do with a little toy soldier that kept disappearing and reappearing in odd places. My sister claims I was afraid of curtains for months because of this movie. I have no idea why. Just the fact that this movie had that big of an impact on me earned it a mention, however confusing.

Three Men And A Baby
You laugh, but you remember the infamous scene with the dead little boy in the window? It was later proven to be nothing more than the cardboard cut-out of Ted Danson, seen at the beginning of the movie. But it still made such an impact on me and frightened me as a child, thanks to some magic story-telling by my older brother. James still swears it's really a ghost. Oh, James...

...Wait - is that why I was afraid of curtains?!

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

She Wore A Purple Ribbon

It came to my attention last week that a group on Facebook was promoting a "Wear Purple Today" page. In so many words, they wanted to get as many people as they possibly could to wear purple on October 20th to show respect for the LGBT community, particularly those of whom had committed suicide or were murdered due to bullying and discrimination. I thought this was a good idea and a simple way to show how I feel about all that.

As I was planning on what to wear, I quickly realized I had no purple items in my wardrobe. I had good intentions of coming up with something to show my support. (I work in a craft store, for crying out loud!) I thought of purchasing some cute flowers to fashion into clips, one of which was purple, but decided against it because I'm cheap. I could make a watch band out of some amethyst I had in my ever-growing collection of beads, but I decided I'm too lazy for that. I metaphorically threw my hands up in the air and ultimately made the decision to simply pin a purple ribbon onto my bright red work shirt.

I hadn't thought things through, and before I knew it, many co-workers were questioning me, asking, "Why the purple ribbon?" I, somewhat sheepishly, explained why I was wearing it, and received a positive response overall. 'Somewhat sheepishly', I say, because I didn't know what to expect in response. On top of that, I am terribly awkward, and responded the first few times with something akin to: "Oh - um it's for all the gay people and all that who have killed themselves 'cause of, you know, discrimination and stuff. It was on Facebook, and I do everything Facebook tells me to do..."

I hadn't realized how wearing an actual ribbon would generate such response and conversation. If I had made my purple flower clip or happened to have had a purple shirt to wear under my work shirt, no one would be prompted to inquire why I had made this fashion choice. But a ribbon... Initially silent, yet visible.

I'm glad I did it this way, because I learned a few things about the people I work with, all positive, and was able to start a dialogue about this popular and controversial subject. I'm glad I stood for something about which I'm very passionate. Even if it was just for one day, the effects will last much longer.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

I Have Readers...?

Thanks for comments, everyone!

Allie, you are my #1 Fan! Your T-shirt is in the mail. It reads: Funda Funda Funda Funda!

Alex, you are correct on one name - probably the most obvious one since I named that book as one of my fav's on Facebook. But Yo-Yo Ma? Yikes. I'm not that crazy. Um... I guess his parents don't feel the same way though... Side note: I also love the name Ava, but I feel that by the time I have kids, that name will be more common than John, and I just can't have that.

Robbie, I hate you. Just kidding; I'm glad we share such a weird thing in common, I guess. James is the only person I've told about my visual static until now. I tried asking Mom about it once, but her confused response scarred me for life, so I never mentioned it to her again. I like your comment about smoking chocolate. I'm trying to cut back, but I just love that smooth flavor.

Rachel, I'm glad I'm not the only one who walks around town, hoping to stumble upon a corpse or a body part. It's the only reason I even go out of the house sometimes. "What's that, honey? We're out of pears? I better go to the store..." I don't know where 'pears' came from - we never have pears in our house. All the more reason to go grab some, I suppose.

Laura, that could still be your middle name if you wanted!

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Things You May Not Know (and May Not Wish to Know) About Me

I have no middle name. In middle school, my friends and I would make up a different one every week or so. The only one I remember is 'Love'.

Quite a few people have mistaken me for a Spanish-speaking gal. I have English, Scottish, Irish, Welsh, Swedish, and Danish blood. Did I forget any...? I suppose those folks from Wales migrated from Spain ages ago, and that's where I get my coloring. Now you know!

My two nicknames when I was a baby were "Thunder Thighs" and "Cuddle Bunny". I think it's pretty obvious which one I prefer... Thundercats are GO! Totally kidding - I'm very insecure about my thighs, thanks to my verbally abusive family.

I lived in England for five years, and have traveled all around Europe, but have never been further east in the United States than the Chicago airport.

I got married in Las Vegas. I wasn't drunk at the time; I actually planned it! Looking back, I still don't know why I decided it would be a good idea to get married in Vegas. But, despite all the smut and loudness of that city, the wedding was perfect for us.

I follow the rules a little too well. For example, when another driver crosses over the double white line of the carpool lane, I am amazed that they were physically able to do such a thing.

I don't like the way I talk. I have a very "interesting" accent, which I am constantly trying to control. I learned how to talk in Oklahoma. I briefly spoke with a British accent (my husband wishes I still did) while living in the UK. Then I moved to Utah and that accent took over. Big time. Add in a dash of "like, totally, whatever!" and that's me. Ugh.

I'm terribly afraid of spiders, yet I chose to place a gigantic, furry (fake) one in my window for Halloween. Side note: Take that, everyone else in my condo community! My window spanks you guys!

I'm now 26, but many people assume I'm much younger. It shouldn't, but it bugs the CRAP out of me.

I have a visual condition casually referred to as "visual static". Basically, think of one of those magic eye pictures plus static/snow on a tv. That's what I see all the time. It's really no big deal in the daytime, vision-wise. It's clearest at night in the dark and it's crazy (who needs LSD?) I've seen this stuff for as long as I can remember. Until about a year ago, I thought I was the only person on Earth who had this, but then I found a website with a bunch of people describing the same things. Thank you, Internet! (Who needs doctors?)

I can move the knuckles on my left hand back and forth at will. I've never met anyone else who can do this. Yes, I am a freak.

I don't drink, don't smoke - what do I do? My hubby James tells people who inquire my one vice is chocolate. I've never had the desire to start drinking, as I fear I'd end up being "that girl" who drinks way too much and ends up spewing annoying things and too much information, as well as the contents of her stomach. I've never had the desire to smell like an ashtray either. And drugs are bad, m-kay? (Did anyone get the South Park reference? Just wondering). I've decided I make a good Designated Driver, so I'll stick to it. Besides, I'd rather spend my money on chocolate.

My husband James and I are 90% different from each other, yet we get along like peas and carrots. I love that about us.

We named our dogs, Ofelia and Simon, after characters in two different Spanish films, of all things. Pan's Labyrinth and The Orphanage. Note: Simon's 'o' has an accent over it, but I'll be darned if I can't figure out how to accomplish that in this text.

I like my name. Even though I've heard endless 'Rocky' quotes and no one can say, spell, or remember my name, I still love it. In school, I was never Adrienne 'last initial here', unlike the many Jessica's, John's, and Megan's in my classes. I was my own person. I have plans of naming my children after a musician, a character in a novel, and a day of the week. Depending on my kids' genders and my future sensibilities, these names may never come to pass. *Bonus points if you can correctly guess all three names. I'll be impressed, but feel thwarted and probably hold a grudge against you for it.

My grandma and this lady at her church once got into an argument over which one of my parents I resemble the most. Sorry, Grandma, but I think I look more like my dad. But only slightly *wink*.

I'm fairly vocal about my loath for "Hollywood Cookie-Cutter Movies" (I just came up with that, just now!) My favorite movies don't usually follow a predictable, old storyline. In other words, I like to use my brain when watching a movie.

I wanted to be a detective when I was a kid. I didn't read a whole lot when I was younger, but I loved Agatha Christie books the most. Solving mysteries AND going on fabulous vacations while mingling with the rich and famous? Sign me up! Then, as I got older, I realized how messy, tiring, frustrating, and horrifying it must be to be a detective.

Speaking of finding dead bodies, yesterday I noticed a large, mysterious barrel lurking behind a dumpster at work. A co-worker and I examined it, and upon closer inspection discovered it was empty. Sigh. Maybe I watch too much Dexter and Cold Case Files, but I kinda wanted the barrel to contain something more sinister than just - nothing. Does that make me a bad person? Probably. But life is more exciting when you add some drama. For example, I'm pretty sure my neighbors below me are drug dealers...

As you may be able to tell by now, I have a very dry, obscure sense of humor, and I'm sorry about that. It's difficult to tell sometimes if I'm being sarcastic or not... Good luck with that!

Wow. That's everything and more you could ever, EVER possibly want to know about me, right? These are things you can never un-know!

Hello World! (or The 14 People Who Will Actually Glance at This Every Now & Then

My name is Adrienne, and this is my blog.

I wanted to jump on the band wagon of sharing hours and hours of my ramblings and useless information with the masses, so here I am!

I began writing less and less in an actual journal as grew up and my relationships became more stable (ie: Does he like me? Do I like him? He's a jerk! I hate school!). For the past few years, I've felt too busy to find some quiet time and write down my thoughts and feelings. Turns out I was just lazy. Scratch that - I still am. But now I've discovered it's easier to type than write, and I get to be an exhibitionist at the same time!

So here I am, sharing my life with whoever will have me. At least I know my mom will read this!