Early this week before I went into to work, I got into town early to go to the tanning bed and had a little extra time, so I decided to get some coffee at Panera Bread. Dressed in my usual driving to work apparel, shorts and a t-shirt, since I have NO FREAKING AIR CONDITIONING in my car, I ordered my coffee and power breakfast sandwich. Now, I noticed the nicely dressed woman next to me cutting me some unusual sideways glances, but I didn't pay much attention. However, when the man in the suit and tie next to me gave me a cold, hard stare as we fixed our coffee, I began to wonder what was up. Did I have a booger hanging out of my nose, was there toilet paper on my shoe, I mean why were these people looking at me like I was out of place?
That's when I looked around and realized that I was, in fact, out of place. I was the only one in the entire restaurant not dressed in full on business attire. THE ONLY ONE. Not anyone on their way back from the gym, no women just stopping by before going to the grocery, every single person had on some version of a suit, tie, dress pants, skirt. Apparently, there is a dress code at this time in Panera Bread, and I was not following it. As I carried on to my table, people looked at me with mild disgust. "Who is this woman, and why doesn't she have a job?" I wanted to stick a sign on my table that said, "Yes, I work. Yes, I will change before work. I just don't want my clothes to be sweaty when I get there."
Now, if there is one thing worse than being in your gym shorts at 7:30am in Panera Bread, it is being in your gym shorts at 7:30am in Panera Bread and spilling your entire large cup of coffee. Naturally, I looked around to see who saw me do this (everyone) and laughed as I grabbed a large stack of napkins to clean up. Nobody else was laughing.
So lesson learned, next time I want some hazelnut coffee on a work week morning, I will need to either go to Starbucks or get my suit dry cleaned.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Why Jarad is My Soulmate
No, this is not a mushy list of reasons such as how he makes me laugh when I am upset or how he is supportive and caring. He does those things, too. However, these are just a few of the events, quotes, and things that happen on a daily basis that truly lead me to believe that we are perfect for each other.
1. He has loved me through thin and thick, salads and ice cream, flat abs, flabby thighs, and that period of time freshman year of college where I had linebacker shoulders and could easily whip his ass.
2. He calls me on my B.S. I tend to be exaggerate, blow things out of proportion, and generally just be full of shit. He does not care to call me out and keep my crazy self in check.
3. He will engage in an hour long pinching war in a sports store, complete with running, screaming, throwing balls at each other, as well as putting on boxing gloves and hitting each other. Yes, we are both in our twenties and college graduates.
4. In the 7 years we have been together, when we are in the car together, he ALWAYS has one of the two country radio stations on. Regardless of whose car we are in and without being asked. The only exception is Rascall Flatts and Taylor Swift, there is only so much a man can take.
5. He FINALLY admitted that I was a better athlete in high school.
6. He calls me by the ridiculous nickname of "Squirrel" or when I am moving slow he combine the squirell with turtle thus resulting in "Squirtle" He even calls me this when he is mad.
7. We took a day trip as part of our honeymoon to go to "The Wizarding World of Harry Potter"
8. He knows that I cannot remember anything. Therefore, he always checks to make sure the oven is off after I have cooked, the doors are locked at night, that I didn't leave clothes in washing machine, and pays the electric bill.
9. And despite the fact that I have both poured milk and gatorade on him, when this morning I threatened to pour a glass of milk over his head if he didn't quit touching me, he replied with "Ha! Like that hasn't happened before."
I know this has made me out to seem like a liquid pouring bi-atch. So, I feel the need to throw
in that I will yell at someone and stand up for him when his extreme niceness prevents him from doing so, and I am the one who ripped up a test and threw it in the trash can during high school math in protest of the unfair material because I knew he didn't know how to do it.
So, along with all of the mushy stuff, there is the great thing of having completely opposite personalities that happen to go together perfectly well. Cause there can't be two crazies in the same marriage ya know.
1. He has loved me through thin and thick, salads and ice cream, flat abs, flabby thighs, and that period of time freshman year of college where I had linebacker shoulders and could easily whip his ass.
2. He calls me on my B.S. I tend to be exaggerate, blow things out of proportion, and generally just be full of shit. He does not care to call me out and keep my crazy self in check.
3. He will engage in an hour long pinching war in a sports store, complete with running, screaming, throwing balls at each other, as well as putting on boxing gloves and hitting each other. Yes, we are both in our twenties and college graduates.
4. In the 7 years we have been together, when we are in the car together, he ALWAYS has one of the two country radio stations on. Regardless of whose car we are in and without being asked. The only exception is Rascall Flatts and Taylor Swift, there is only so much a man can take.
5. He FINALLY admitted that I was a better athlete in high school.
6. He calls me by the ridiculous nickname of "Squirrel" or when I am moving slow he combine the squirell with turtle thus resulting in "Squirtle" He even calls me this when he is mad.
7. We took a day trip as part of our honeymoon to go to "The Wizarding World of Harry Potter"
8. He knows that I cannot remember anything. Therefore, he always checks to make sure the oven is off after I have cooked, the doors are locked at night, that I didn't leave clothes in washing machine, and pays the electric bill.
9. And despite the fact that I have both poured milk and gatorade on him, when this morning I threatened to pour a glass of milk over his head if he didn't quit touching me, he replied with "Ha! Like that hasn't happened before."
I know this has made me out to seem like a liquid pouring bi-atch. So, I feel the need to throw
in that I will yell at someone and stand up for him when his extreme niceness prevents him from doing so, and I am the one who ripped up a test and threw it in the trash can during high school math in protest of the unfair material because I knew he didn't know how to do it.
So, along with all of the mushy stuff, there is the great thing of having completely opposite personalities that happen to go together perfectly well. Cause there can't be two crazies in the same marriage ya know.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Update
So, I just had a week of tests, am caught up on most of my homework, and bored tonight. Therefore, I decided to do a little blog entry. Nothing really extraordinary has happened over the last bit so I am going to give an update of things that have really stuck out in my mind.
1. Garth Brooks is doing a show in Nashville. I WILL BE THERE! I will also be jumping on his tour bus and will not complete my last semester at WKU because I will be traveling to Oklahoma with Garth.
2. I was beat in a Garth Brooks song naming contest. This humbled my soul, and for a week straight, I went to bed with his greatest hits playing as a repentence. Talk about shame.
3. I have discovered that my husband has more dirty laundry after one week than probably all of China. How does one man have six baskets of dirty laundry in 1 WEEK!
4. If I don't get into medical school, I am going to be a drug rep. They make good money. They like to talk and are good at it. If there is one thing I can do, it is talk.
Sidenote: I once had a police officer call me at work after he had written me a ticket and told me to rip it up. This goes with my conclusion that people cannot help but like me.
5. People can't help but like me with the exception of my quant professor. I'm pretty sure he hates me.
6. I am refusing to turn on the heat. I will freeze my ass off before I pay a $200 gas bill. Actually, I would pay $200 for someone to freeze my ass off now that I think about it.
1. Garth Brooks is doing a show in Nashville. I WILL BE THERE! I will also be jumping on his tour bus and will not complete my last semester at WKU because I will be traveling to Oklahoma with Garth.
2. I was beat in a Garth Brooks song naming contest. This humbled my soul, and for a week straight, I went to bed with his greatest hits playing as a repentence. Talk about shame.
3. I have discovered that my husband has more dirty laundry after one week than probably all of China. How does one man have six baskets of dirty laundry in 1 WEEK!
4. If I don't get into medical school, I am going to be a drug rep. They make good money. They like to talk and are good at it. If there is one thing I can do, it is talk.
Sidenote: I once had a police officer call me at work after he had written me a ticket and told me to rip it up. This goes with my conclusion that people cannot help but like me.
5. People can't help but like me with the exception of my quant professor. I'm pretty sure he hates me.
6. I am refusing to turn on the heat. I will freeze my ass off before I pay a $200 gas bill. Actually, I would pay $200 for someone to freeze my ass off now that I think about it.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Yesterday's Drama
DISCLAIMER: This post is not for those who get easily embarrassed or those who are judgemental. Do not read if you get the willies talking about more personal matters or if you look down upon those of us who are far from perfect. This is meant to be funny, and I hope you can get a good laugh out of it.
So with my wedding just two and a half weeks away, I decided to do some, er, shopping for my wedding night. Now lingerie shopping may be fun for those skinny bitches who are size zeros, but for those of us squeezing our chubby butts into those teeny, tiny outfits with stretch marks gleaming on flabby thighs under the harsh lighting of department store dressing rooms this is anything but fun. I'm sure those stick-thin supermodels look in the mirror in the skimpy outfits and think "Damn, I look great." However, anyone above a size two probably sees something that they don't like about themselves. Butt dimples, arms that jiggle, and pudgy stomachs do not go well with see-through tops and barely there underwear.
Thus, I decided to make a list of all of the things I would rather do than shop for lingerie. (in no particular order)
1. have dental work
2. Talk to one of the long-winded customers on the phone at work
3. Clean toilets
4. Clean up vomit
5. Clean up piss
6. Do laundry
7. Go to Wal-mart
8. Sit in a Car for three hours with my brothers after they have eaten White Castle
9. Have a stomach virus
10. Climb 1000 miles up hill in 100 degree weather carrying a fifty pound backpack
So with my wedding just two and a half weeks away, I decided to do some, er, shopping for my wedding night. Now lingerie shopping may be fun for those skinny bitches who are size zeros, but for those of us squeezing our chubby butts into those teeny, tiny outfits with stretch marks gleaming on flabby thighs under the harsh lighting of department store dressing rooms this is anything but fun. I'm sure those stick-thin supermodels look in the mirror in the skimpy outfits and think "Damn, I look great." However, anyone above a size two probably sees something that they don't like about themselves. Butt dimples, arms that jiggle, and pudgy stomachs do not go well with see-through tops and barely there underwear.
Thus, I decided to make a list of all of the things I would rather do than shop for lingerie. (in no particular order)
1. have dental work
2. Talk to one of the long-winded customers on the phone at work
3. Clean toilets
4. Clean up vomit
5. Clean up piss
6. Do laundry
7. Go to Wal-mart
8. Sit in a Car for three hours with my brothers after they have eaten White Castle
9. Have a stomach virus
10. Climb 1000 miles up hill in 100 degree weather carrying a fifty pound backpack
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Gone Fishin'
Today, I went fishing. Now, I am not the country girl that I make out to be. I love to blare my Hank and George Jones, dream about owning a big gas-guzzling ford pick-up, and my southern drawl is thick and captivating. However, when it comes down to it, I never really do anything that "country." So today, I decided to try my hand at something that every country girl should do and set out on a fishing adventure.
My boss continues to prove his coolness by taking me out to his farm with his wife and daughter (who is one of the cutest kids on the planet) for a fishing trip. A little weary of the whole touching the worms thing, I required some assistance in the beginning. Not long after casting my pole out into the pond, I saw my little bobber do-hicky fall beneath the water and a tug on my line. Excitedly, I reeled in the line to find a little blue-gill flopping about. Unable to get up the gumption to take the fish off the line, the boss man had to help me out on that one, as the cute little girl squealed in delight next to me.
Now, I did get accustomed to baiting my own hook and taking my own fish off and even caught a massive bass. Yep, I was feeling like a country girl alright. Dirt covering my jeans, fish blood on my hands, I was getting down to my roots.
The most amazing thing though, was for the first time in years, I spent three solid hours without worrying, stressing, or going through my long mental to do list. I was in a place where the only thing I could see was perfect, beautiful untouched land. I stood there thinking, "Wow. I love this place. Nowhere in the world could be more perfectly serene." My phone had no service, no text messages were coming through, no internet to waste time on. For three hours, I found peace of mind and the carefree little girl that I used to know.
My boss continues to prove his coolness by taking me out to his farm with his wife and daughter (who is one of the cutest kids on the planet) for a fishing trip. A little weary of the whole touching the worms thing, I required some assistance in the beginning. Not long after casting my pole out into the pond, I saw my little bobber do-hicky fall beneath the water and a tug on my line. Excitedly, I reeled in the line to find a little blue-gill flopping about. Unable to get up the gumption to take the fish off the line, the boss man had to help me out on that one, as the cute little girl squealed in delight next to me.
Now, I did get accustomed to baiting my own hook and taking my own fish off and even caught a massive bass. Yep, I was feeling like a country girl alright. Dirt covering my jeans, fish blood on my hands, I was getting down to my roots.
The most amazing thing though, was for the first time in years, I spent three solid hours without worrying, stressing, or going through my long mental to do list. I was in a place where the only thing I could see was perfect, beautiful untouched land. I stood there thinking, "Wow. I love this place. Nowhere in the world could be more perfectly serene." My phone had no service, no text messages were coming through, no internet to waste time on. For three hours, I found peace of mind and the carefree little girl that I used to know.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
By Popular Demand
Just to clarify, when I say that my life is average, I mean that in a way that I am not running a brothel, nor am I an astronaut. I am very blessed and very fortunate with all that I have been given in my life, so by no means did I mean to sound ungrateful or like a sob story. I simply meant that with the typical life that I live, there is no way I should be involved in so many shenanigans. When discussing this at work this morning, my boss made a request that I do some flash backing and tell one of my previous funny stories. Without further ado, I shall tell about the time I almost choked to death on an egg sandwich.
I was on a semester break from college, so I was staying at home, spending quality time with my family. I was about to make the thirty minute drive to work (25 if there are no cops lurking about) and was running late (shocker!). Therefore, I had no time to sit at the table and enjoy my egg sandwich that my mom so graciously made for me. Wrapping up my wonderful slightly runny on the inside egg, delicious ketchup, surrounded by two slices of wheat toast, I trotted out the door planning on eating my all time fave breakfast while cruising to work not knowing that that tasty egg sandwich almost was the death of me.
I get about half a mile down the road and put the first bite in my mouth. The next thing I know, I cannot breathe. I pull over, panic running through my body. My first bite went down the wrong way and was lodged in my throat! I couldn't cough. I couldn't breathe. I dialed my home telephone number and began blaring the horn of my car, hoping my parents would understand my plea for help and would come looking for me.
Fear overtaking my body, I jump out of the car and begin to throw myself against the side of my yellow ford escape in a vain attempt to give myself the Heimlich. Beginning to feel faint and weak, I slump down the side of my vehicle, falling in and out of consicouness. I began thinking, "This is it. This is how I am going to die, on the side of the road, choking on a damn egg sandwich." In one last attempt, I shove my fingers down my throat and finally throw up. Outside of a slight headache from oxygen deprivation, I was okay (obviously).
When I recanted my near death experience to my parents, I made them swear to me that if I were ever to die in such a humilating manner, that they would make up some lie to spare my pride, or I would come back and haunt the crap out of them. They made me promise that I would never eat an egg sandwhich in the car again.
I was on a semester break from college, so I was staying at home, spending quality time with my family. I was about to make the thirty minute drive to work (25 if there are no cops lurking about) and was running late (shocker!). Therefore, I had no time to sit at the table and enjoy my egg sandwich that my mom so graciously made for me. Wrapping up my wonderful slightly runny on the inside egg, delicious ketchup, surrounded by two slices of wheat toast, I trotted out the door planning on eating my all time fave breakfast while cruising to work not knowing that that tasty egg sandwich almost was the death of me.
I get about half a mile down the road and put the first bite in my mouth. The next thing I know, I cannot breathe. I pull over, panic running through my body. My first bite went down the wrong way and was lodged in my throat! I couldn't cough. I couldn't breathe. I dialed my home telephone number and began blaring the horn of my car, hoping my parents would understand my plea for help and would come looking for me.
Fear overtaking my body, I jump out of the car and begin to throw myself against the side of my yellow ford escape in a vain attempt to give myself the Heimlich. Beginning to feel faint and weak, I slump down the side of my vehicle, falling in and out of consicouness. I began thinking, "This is it. This is how I am going to die, on the side of the road, choking on a damn egg sandwich." In one last attempt, I shove my fingers down my throat and finally throw up. Outside of a slight headache from oxygen deprivation, I was okay (obviously).
When I recanted my near death experience to my parents, I made them swear to me that if I were ever to die in such a humilating manner, that they would make up some lie to spare my pride, or I would come back and haunt the crap out of them. They made me promise that I would never eat an egg sandwhich in the car again.
Friday, May 21, 2010
This is NOT a Journal
So, I have toyed with the idea of blogging for some time now. People have often told me I should write down all of the wild and crazy things that happen in my pretty average life. Such as the time I almost choked to death on an egg sandwhich (literally), or how I cried so hard after recieving a speeding ticket, the officer called me later that day and canceled it. Anyways, with so many instances like that where the unfortunate happenings in my life bring such joy and happiness to the people close to me (some friends I have) I figured that I could share my crazy adventures that pretty much always begin with good intentions, take a terrible turn for the worse, and then somehow manage to work themselves out in the end, with the oh, maybe five people that might stumble upon this.
The thing I has been holding me back all this time from jumping on the blogging band wagon was that it seemed like keeping a journal in disguise and making it public. I hate with a blinding passion journaling. Keeping a journal is for people with feelings and I am really not one of those feely kind of people. I like to laugh it off and suck it up. Journaling how I feel when I bomb a test, skip exercising, and down a pint of Ben and Jerry's just seems ridiculous. Obviously, I feel like shit, and I don't want to look back and be reminded of that shitty failure, nor do I want to risk the fact of my children someday stumbling upon this documentation of stupidity and lack of self-control and using it as leverage in a future argument (because that is EXACTLY what I would do and there is no doubt that my children will be just a spiteful and bull-headed).
So, if you are one of the lucky ones to stumble upon this blog, then I repeat THIS IS NOT A JOURNAL. It is more of an opportunity for you to get a few kicks out of my crazy, average life.
The thing I has been holding me back all this time from jumping on the blogging band wagon was that it seemed like keeping a journal in disguise and making it public. I hate with a blinding passion journaling. Keeping a journal is for people with feelings and I am really not one of those feely kind of people. I like to laugh it off and suck it up. Journaling how I feel when I bomb a test, skip exercising, and down a pint of Ben and Jerry's just seems ridiculous. Obviously, I feel like shit, and I don't want to look back and be reminded of that shitty failure, nor do I want to risk the fact of my children someday stumbling upon this documentation of stupidity and lack of self-control and using it as leverage in a future argument (because that is EXACTLY what I would do and there is no doubt that my children will be just a spiteful and bull-headed).
So, if you are one of the lucky ones to stumble upon this blog, then I repeat THIS IS NOT A JOURNAL. It is more of an opportunity for you to get a few kicks out of my crazy, average life.
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