tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36118137946639120792024-03-05T18:56:35.145-06:00I Don't Know Why I Laugh SometimesUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger175125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-91275537225814465682015-07-26T16:46:00.001-05:002015-07-26T16:46:45.822-05:00Camper LifeI'm going to get a camper. It's a big step, yes, but a step I'm ready to take. I've been camping in a tent for awhile now.<br />
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<b>Fun fact: Two out of the three times I've camped this summer, it has rained.</b><br />
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Have you camped in the rain...in a tent? It sucks. Even when you pull everything away from the sides, your stuff will still get wet if your tent didn't originally cost you $300.00 and up. Or let's say you get stuck in a torrential downpour during a thunderstorm/tornado warning. Yep, your tent and everything in it gets completely soaked, and you spend the night in your car. U.N.C.O.M.F.O.R.T.A.B.L.E.<br />
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So the time has come. I have put my years into tent camping. I have suffered the hot days, cold nights, and severe weather. I have laid in my sleeping bag and watched dozens of spiders climb the netting of my tent (on the outside, of course, but still. I've seen some big spiders).<br />
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I have had to dry out a wet tent days after being home from camping, just so that it can get wet again in a surprise rainstorm. I do, in fact, have a weather app - don't get me started on how wrong the app can be. Then I have to put out the tent for a third time. It's a pain.<br />
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Then again, I think I'm going to miss tent camping. It's fun. I really feel like I'm roughing it, even though I'm still car camping and showers are a mere 200 ft away.<br />
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But we're ready to level-up in the camping game. The video below shows a 1993 camper...but ours is a <i>1992 Skyline Nomad (22ft).</i> Without further ado, here's the beaut:<br />
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Enjoy some pictures too. These pics are actually pics of our camper.<br />
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Come September, we'll have it in our possession. Get excited, people! Kinsey is going to be living the 1992 travel trailer life! Let's go camping!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-42776205505546684822014-05-12T08:34:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:34:19.448-05:00How To Camp Like An Idiot - 20 Simple Steps1. Arrive at your campsite late. Check-in time was 1:00 pm, but you were doing last minute packing and last minute buying at the Mega Superstore for ten bags of chips, four 12-packs of soda, and 48 jumbo hot dogs (they were on sale!). <br />
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2. So you arrived late and now have to pitch your tent in the dark, because you brought your flashlight, but didn’t check to see if the batteries still worked. <br />
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3. Bring only one newspaper and one box of matches you got for free at The Dive Bar. You love waiting hours just so you can have a warm can of baked beans. Don’t bring a can opener or other useful kitchen utensils. You are camping! You don’t need spoons or plates! <br />
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4. Be as loud and obnoxious after quiet hours so your neighbors next to you with now crying children will hate you. Blast Kanye West songs and drink until you pass out so you can drown out that non-sleeping child in the RV next to you. The nerve of that child! <br />
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5. Never put away any of your food at night. The whole purpose of camping is to be one with nature, including raccoons, bears, possums, skunks, and mice. You’ve always wanted to pet a coon and ride bare back on a bear. Now is your chance! <br />
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6. Pack your food and beverages in the same cooler. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Reach for a beer and expose your hamburger patties to the 90 degree temperatures all at the same time. <br />
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7. Bring your own firewood from two counties over, because yours is the best and you know it. <br />
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8. Don’t pay for trash dumping at the campground. The charge of $1.00 is way too expensive. See No. 5 for additional reasons if you’re not convinced. <br />
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9. Keep snacks and open containers of food in your tent. You never know when you’re going to want a midnight treat. <br />
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10. Wear lots of perfume/cologne to cover up your body odor. Then play a game of Connect The Mosquito Dots to pass the time! <br />
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11. Utilize all those great camping hacks found on Pinterest. Especially the “hand washing station,” the belt around the tree to hold up your kitchen supplies, and the “plunger bucket” to wash your clothes.<br />
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12. Pack high heels and four other pairs of shoes. You never know who you might run into. Leave the hiking boots and sneakers at home. Mother always told you that if you want to be beautiful, you must suffer through the pain.<br />
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13. Whine incessantly about the poor WiFi signal. Cry if you have to. Let it out. If you complain about it loud enough, maybe the owners will hear you and pay loads of money for WiFi for the entire campground!<br />
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14. Leave all your valuables scattered around your campsite so your neighbors know that you are important and have nice things.<br />
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15. If you bring your dog, don’t pick up the doggy-poo. It helps to fertilize the earth. Think of Mother Nature. She loves POO!<br />
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16. Wait to pack up and leave until the very last minute. You paid to camp here until 1:00 pm, and you sure as hell are going to get your money’s worth.<br />
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17. Never put your fire out. You worked hard to start that monster; keep it roaring all weekend.<br />
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18. Only eat really salty, unhealthy snacks and drink a shit ton of energy drinks.<br />
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19. Don’t pack bug spray – it doesn’t work. Don’t put sunscreen on your skin – you’ll only become greasy and less clean.<br />
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20. Leave all the traces when you leave. Garbage should be left behind, dirty underwear should be be scattered everywhere, and you should keep that fire going, baby!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-15902886324413407772014-03-13T22:15:00.000-05:002014-03-13T22:18:46.494-05:00What Even Is That Kid?So I went "running" for the first time outside this year. I put <i>running </i>in quotes, because I barely ran. I'm so out of shape.<br />
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Remember when I worked out at the gym? I pay for it and everything, and I even blogged about it <b><span style="color: purple;"><a href="http://idontwhy.blogspot.com/2013/11/working-out.html" target="_blank">here</a></span></b>! Yeah, I don't remember the last time I went either. I need to cancel that thing. I had hopes for that gym relationship. I should have known it wouldn't last.<br />
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So I'm "running" on the Old Abe Trail (that's what it's called...I saw a sign) and after my nice, long warm-up walk, I begin my run.<br />
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Yeah! RUNNING! The first steps are great, but after about 30 seconds, I'm freakin' dying. I should really cut down on the empty calories - I know I'd have more energy. Reasoning: SCIENCE.<br />
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Okay, back on track, I'm "running" and this child...this little boy...this kid who can't be older than 10 years old approaches me. He's running at an outrageous speed (I am shocked. I am jealous. I am feeling really bad about myself.), and to top it off, he is carrying hand weights!!!<br />
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WHAT?<br />
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WHO? HUH? IS HE AN ALIENNNNNNNNNN? <br />
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And also, where is this kid's parents? Hmmmmm? He was running alone. <br />
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What a show-off. <br />
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But it was weirdly motivating. If a kid (or alien - we will never know) can run with hand weights and do it with ease, then *HECK YES, so can I.<br />
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*Ha! No, I will never run with hand weights. It sounds exhausting and terrible.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-71288971139344309052014-01-24T10:00:00.000-06:002014-01-24T10:00:00.849-06:00Nora Ephron<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes I get sad that there won't be anymore movies made my Nora Ephron. And there won't be anything else written by her. Nothing. <br />
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I think about this more often than not, and now that I have her book, <i>The Most of Nora Ephron</i>, I think about it practically every day. She was my favorite. She was the best.<br />
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The first time I saw <i>When Harry Met Sally</i> was when I was in middle school. It was amazing. There I was at 12 years old watching and immediately re-watching this film. The next day I watched it again. Then I watched the commentary. Did I realize who Nora Ephron was at the age of 12? No. Did I soon find out? Yes.<br />
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I realized that I had seen a bunch of her movies. I realized that I loved them all! <i>You've Got Mail</i> is my ALL-TIME FAVORITE movie. Yes, <i>You've Got Mail.</i> I can quote it from beginning to end. And I am proud of it! <br />
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By the time I was in high school, I had immersed myself in Ephron's movies. By college I was reading her essays and buying her books for my mom (so I could read them when she was done). I felt the need to share her with others, talk about her, show them her movies...her talent...her lists! God, I loved her lists! I'm a list person.<br />
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There is so much left to say that I'm not saying in this post. So many people have memorialized her, which I enjoy and read every now and then, still, after almost two years, I'll still pull up a web article written by someone who knew her and loved her. <br />
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I miss Nora Ephron and it makes me sad. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-83458984738700778772014-01-23T18:47:00.000-06:002014-01-23T18:47:17.549-06:00What I've Learned Thus Far<span style="color: #0b5394;">1. I'm pretty sure that to be an "adult" I need to own more than two winter coats. An everyday coat and a dressy coat don't cut it anymore. I see people who wear a different winter coat every day. These coats match their outfits, their shoes, or even their freakin' earrings. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;">2. I've realized that if you say "no" to tiny things, people get mad. Oh well. If I don't want to do something or help you do something so small that my five-year-old niece could do herself without complaining, then I'm going to say no. Get over it. Or don't. It's up to you. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #990000;"><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="background-color: white;">3. Camping is probably the most exciting thing in my life that I have to look forward to at the moment. Only four more months! </span> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;">4. When I look at my day and rate the success of it, I base it all on two things:</span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><b> a) Did I accomplish everything I wanted to/needed to?</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><b> b) Were the emotions I experienced valid?</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"> If I answer yes to both of those questions, then I had a successful day. </span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;">5. Don't let people think you need to be happy all of the time. It's healthy to be sad, mad, frustrated, happy, nervous, excited, scared, etc. You have a ton of emotions - feel them and feel them all.</span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-46839818065067165302013-11-19T19:07:00.003-06:002013-11-19T19:07:46.950-06:00Syd Field<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Syd Field died on Sunday, November 17 of hemolytic anemia. He was 77. <br />
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If you don't know the name Syd Field, let me acquaint you. Syd Field was known as "the guru of screenwriting." He was one of the best, if not the best, screenwriting teachers the world (yes, the WORLD) had to offer.<br />
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I was lucky enough to attend the Screenwriter's Summit in Los Angeles in December 2010 where Syd Field was speaking - Christopher Vogler, John Truby, and Michael Hauge also provided their unmatched depth of screenwriting.<br />
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It was an amazing experience to be listening and taking notes from renown theorists and writing instructors. I wanted to learn more about writing, how screenwriting worked on and off the page, and how to develop a well-written story. I was provided much more than that. I experienced it. I sat among other hopeful screenwriters and it felt right.<br />
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Even when I'm not writing, I'm developing the story of my screenplay in my head. Every single day I think about the story. With Syd Field passing, I am dedicating my extra time at home to writing. <br />
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It's been a busy few months. Heck, it's been a busy year! But that's no excuse. I need to get this story on the page and that is what I am going to do. <br />
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RIP in Syd Field. You will be missed. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-50671664328132321042013-11-10T20:33:00.000-06:002013-11-10T20:33:16.224-06:00Working OUT!YEAH!<br />
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I started working out again today. I joined Anytime Fitness at an amazing price and am so happy that I did.<br />
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I haven't belonged to a gym since...gosh...I can't even remember how long ago it was. Maybe six years ago? Seven years ago? I don't even know. And that was a temporary two- or three-month deal.<br />
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I forgot how great it feels after a good jog on the treadmill. I get a healthy dose of energy back and I feel better about myself.<br />
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About a month and a half ago I started running again, but the weather was slowly getting cooler and I just couldn't stay motivated. <br />
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So I'm hoping this time is different and I stick to it! I am paying for it...so that will be enough motivation for me. ;)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-9958019826571156842013-10-27T14:08:00.001-05:002013-10-27T14:08:34.675-05:00Spooky! Scary!Yesterday I spent my day with close friends. We dressed up in our costumes, carved pumpkins, went to a wine-cork pull raffle (didn't win anything), and went to a couple of bars.<br />
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It was so much just hanging out with good people. We laughed about memories and laughed about everything else. I don't really have a real "blog post" to write about...but I'm just going to say, <span style="color: #741b47;"><b>"LIVE AND HAVE FUN! SMILE! SURROUND YOURSELF WITH GOOD COMPANY."</b></span><br />
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That's all you really need. Surround yourself with people (friends and family), people who truly care about your well-being. You will never be disappointed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carving our awesome pumpkins!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJYURmcW7evpkFwFF-0jWoXAMd2AW1iDlCIfppNmonrC8YF6XpNw3Q2gyqatjWifo1WVa0muvPKR00EEoiaTTKKqhHLKR3jn2UtQFyX4sq224PEAlvMmyqeBC29OTyq8XKojWd9b4LGih/s1600/1026131712a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJYURmcW7evpkFwFF-0jWoXAMd2AW1iDlCIfppNmonrC8YF6XpNw3Q2gyqatjWifo1WVa0muvPKR00EEoiaTTKKqhHLKR3jn2UtQFyX4sq224PEAlvMmyqeBC29OTyq8XKojWd9b4LGih/s320/1026131712a.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hayley and Kyle and Marvin the cat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMtowjHcwziDWQ6GvscoYIYlDiywMagJIx-qOTzkeSoG_EKINcalvs5UkOTvYpRZwcSjmUXBv1IlABlQM1sr5mPx7oGlHpuJ9qXmIK4HFLuQ056-GyKlM4LdpA5Q5EJ2zCCKQmd14ERzdw/s1600/1026131713a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMtowjHcwziDWQ6GvscoYIYlDiywMagJIx-qOTzkeSoG_EKINcalvs5UkOTvYpRZwcSjmUXBv1IlABlQM1sr5mPx7oGlHpuJ9qXmIK4HFLuQ056-GyKlM4LdpA5Q5EJ2zCCKQmd14ERzdw/s320/1026131713a.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Liz as Thelma and Louise. I'm Louise.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdzOpp90Xd0Z9YAloidSirBuP-dxn_fGDmMIBbE9F315wCDDknmocC8On9G52it0r1rdS0tzIRuP8mva5gy9onPWPShjWCpIYJL6rR7JqcBujY7YW0VWQ2MC7KD9fKfdO_h94-wHTciRQ/s1600/1026132202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdzOpp90Xd0Z9YAloidSirBuP-dxn_fGDmMIBbE9F315wCDDknmocC8On9G52it0r1rdS0tzIRuP8mva5gy9onPWPShjWCpIYJL6rR7JqcBujY7YW0VWQ2MC7KD9fKfdO_h94-wHTciRQ/s320/1026132202.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jenny the construction worker and me!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgo1YFh2BzcVEBjS3kG6lPrdwcV8hqahAFFMzo23QnX6eMMM5U608G_YTwtjEiuEiq3LP4bIr-COj_VsoYoVtW8aScAox8FTOLhkN50V1PdSfj64tlgt8RPvDWcevxwwPjScoqlbsKbZ1f/s1600/IMG_20131026_132243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgo1YFh2BzcVEBjS3kG6lPrdwcV8hqahAFFMzo23QnX6eMMM5U608G_YTwtjEiuEiq3LP4bIr-COj_VsoYoVtW8aScAox8FTOLhkN50V1PdSfj64tlgt8RPvDWcevxwwPjScoqlbsKbZ1f/s320/IMG_20131026_132243.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me as Louise.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhOjPBfybhYs2-si45Ms0VEF5RHuZMIHyYqXN1xOx8ABrdbb0kjO4whyphenhyphen8LBnYG5w2RuT3RzK3CU_D1Nj0WzU8jV7NhixfakINq_Mcg_tuirnlK3g2cKBc3f6OcTqrMQNwjycOZ05H0Ut_/s1600/IMG_20131026_132416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhOjPBfybhYs2-si45Ms0VEF5RHuZMIHyYqXN1xOx8ABrdbb0kjO4whyphenhyphen8LBnYG5w2RuT3RzK3CU_D1Nj0WzU8jV7NhixfakINq_Mcg_tuirnlK3g2cKBc3f6OcTqrMQNwjycOZ05H0Ut_/s320/IMG_20131026_132416.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liz as Thelma.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL20dlQtc_3wNuzvBsaEnLdzuQsLT-9meJpfoDIRaP1H2RKWN7FWW2Xj0oyH1VpahTvEY5gcFvgVRJjx0f-eihga3GErI99Lqrwz2vTM-feqssKfseWcgX65isslMbrpnbpeR54osVXeqd/s1600/1026132205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL20dlQtc_3wNuzvBsaEnLdzuQsLT-9meJpfoDIRaP1H2RKWN7FWW2Xj0oyH1VpahTvEY5gcFvgVRJjx0f-eihga3GErI99Lqrwz2vTM-feqssKfseWcgX65isslMbrpnbpeR54osVXeqd/s320/1026132205.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hayley as Robin Hood, me, and Kyle as no one.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-29323634168038173442013-10-20T18:24:00.000-05:002013-10-20T18:24:22.658-05:00Post Office Blues<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-3c833a57-d82b-a823-84d2-7f9c316d6b9b" style="line-height: 1.1500000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I am going to single-handedly take on the Eau Claire Post Office. You heard me. I’m not scared.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Locally-run governmental agencies are the worst. Okay, so they’re not always the worst, but when the Eau Claire Post Office said it was discontinuing mail processing in February 2014, they became a sore subject for me. Have you noticed that your mail is taking longer to get to places in Wisconsin that are outside of the 547- and 548-area codes? No? Well, I have. And maybe that’s only because I work in an office where sending out mail can be time sensitive, and when it doesn’t get there the next day or day after, your coworkers take it out on you (because it is </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> <i>my</i> fault, right?). Basically half of our mail is still being processed in Eau Claire, and the other half is being processed in St. Paul, MN. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Anyway, this post office conundrum has a simple fix – separate the customers as they enter the building before they reach the service counter and act like morons who have no idea how they want to send something and whether they do, in fact, want insurance on the candy they are sending to their son in college. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There are three paths to choose from: 1) <b>I know what I want</b>, 2) <b>I need extra attention and some answers</b>, and 3)<b> I’m going to take up so much time because I am THAT person</b>.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The “I know what I want” group is the best. These people actually walk around with a crown on their head. Customers should bow down to them as they move swiftly through their line. This path is only for customers who need stamps, need postage on their (get this) already sealed package, and/or they have filled out the proper certified/return receipt beforehand (you can do that? YES, YOU CAN!) and need postage and a date stamp. You will indeed want to live up to the royalty of what I like to call non-idiots.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The “I need extra attention and some answers” group is for those people who need some cost options. They will, of course, have their package put together before they get to the service counter. This route has a two-step phase: 1) Package your items if you haven’t already done so and then 2) Proceed to the service counter. Unlike the kings and queens alongside them moving at a rapid pace in line 1, this group needs shipping and cost options and/or they need help filling out that certified/return receipt. Customers in this group will also have the option of applying insurance to their package.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.1500000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Last and certainly the least, the “I’m going to take up so much time because I am THAT person” group is the bottom-dweller of the post office floor. This group consists of morons who want to talk about their day as they have the post office worker bubble-wrap and ship their cat to Hawaii with insurance. They also have forty-plus unsealed envelopes with no addresses written on them. On top of which, they will undoubtedly change their mind about their shipping choice approximately three times. These customers are the worst of the worst. They have no respect for other customer’s time, and so they are stuck in their line for hours and hours because of the idiots standing before them. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We’ve all been there. The moment you exit your vehicle at the Eau Claire Post Office and see a customer walking to the door with two bins full of unstamped letters. You slam your door quickly, run to the door to beat the two-binned lady but can’t dodge the bottom-dwellers moping their way to the entrance of the building. You never had a chance. You won’t make the 5:00 p.m. cutoff time, and you’ll be stuck in line behind a bunch of people who have no idea how they want to send their mail. Idiots.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-7680814203818566122013-08-11T22:22:00.001-05:002013-08-11T22:22:49.817-05:00Dumb Things on PinterestI love Pinterest. I go through the "Home Decor" category a lot because I'm moving into my house at the end of the month, and I come across a lot of great ideas...and a lot of dumb ones. For example:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ3zrIDmHC0DR9Gkggr2gAni0ANtstblKM8Mx4pOIQEtS_9jYGXHYWZJWWLOwirWVrcyrwdbeFtW4svXjqOiZKPy1D4fUL6dnibVIVNY-FK1wiKZntb3IYYg5askiNBdofusdl08sJygI1/s1600/p5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ3zrIDmHC0DR9Gkggr2gAni0ANtstblKM8Mx4pOIQEtS_9jYGXHYWZJWWLOwirWVrcyrwdbeFtW4svXjqOiZKPy1D4fUL6dnibVIVNY-FK1wiKZntb3IYYg5askiNBdofusdl08sJygI1/s320/p5.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
"WASH" sign. I thought that was pretty obvious, but maybe people need to be reminded not to fry bacon in here.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9XSDjjgi1iMrzDY3P7Nan8mfq4fCXONUMGWl1v1M6UYjqUNXhut0N2Umpn9IiJCrQvzF0QXqf548bGpkmAow4tivY997kEooeea2gAOSfdSGvRmT9Ayl3sqfO320z6Dbhyy_f4EaoKUR/s1600/p1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9XSDjjgi1iMrzDY3P7Nan8mfq4fCXONUMGWl1v1M6UYjqUNXhut0N2Umpn9IiJCrQvzF0QXqf548bGpkmAow4tivY997kEooeea2gAOSfdSGvRmT9Ayl3sqfO320z6Dbhyy_f4EaoKUR/s320/p1.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
This screams "clutter" to me. Sure your mess won't be on your kitchen table, but it sure will be tacked or magnetized to the wall! This looks like an elementary school art hallway. I give it a D-.<br />
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Oh heavens. This kills me. How about USE A WINE BOTTLE HOLDER AS A <span style="color: #990000;">WINE </span>RACK? Towels are better in the closet. Wine is better on the rack - where it belongs! Let's not mess with things.<br />
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HA! First of all, yes, sure, it's a cute idea. But it is also ginormous. I hope your bedroom has square footage for this. Personally, I like this idea for a doggie bed/area under the stairs.<br />
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AWWWWWW! Isn't it so cute?<br />
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All I have for this one is...<i>Mommie Dearest </i><br />
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You heard her. <br /><br />
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This one drives me nuts. If you are the average person, you probably have one washer and one dryer. You can wash one load of laundry at a time. Let's say you do towels first. You wash them, then you dry them, then you fold them, and put them away. And while your towels are in the dryer, you start your darks in the washer. Then you dry your darks, fold them, and put them away. You can't really get ahead of this little "schedule." Because unless you have more than one washer and one dryer, all of your clothes will never be done at once (and you will never need four sorting baskets). And if you decide to let your clothes just sit on this "sorting counter" after they finish drying just so you can use your sorting baskets, then you're wasting time and your clothes are getting wrinkled by not folding them immediately after getting pulled out of the dryer. What a waste of space.<br />
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Do you not want to sell your house? Ever? Y-I-K-E-S!<br />
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This dog is living the life. Hopefully the owners have a pool. If not, they need to reevaluate their priorities.<br />
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No one wants to see your body parts squished out of the hammock-ceiling.</div>
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Yes indeed! Your kids will DEFINITELY throw these rocks in the house and break ALL THE THINGS! *face palm*</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-77702569907940435972013-07-28T21:23:00.002-05:002013-07-28T22:00:40.417-05:00Beep. Boop. Deactivate.*robot noises*<br />
<br />
I have deactivated my Facebook account.<br />
<br />
Does it feel weird? Not yet.<br />
<br />
Will it feel weird not reading that PoopyDoopy is at the gym "getting her workout on," again, like she does every single day (and I know this because PoopyDoopy posts it every single morning)? No. Because I don't want to hear about anyone working out...ever...and especially not when I think about getting up early for a run and then I don't do it because I'm tired. Ummmm, no thanks. <br />
<br />
Will I feel a dissatisfaction in my soul by not seeing the terribly-lit photo of FoodieMcCroody's lunch? Nope.<br />
<br />
I think I'm going to do just fine without Facebook.<br />
<br />
;)<br />
<br />
*more robot noises*<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-68845598873669948042013-06-15T11:03:00.002-05:002013-07-28T21:24:22.790-05:00THE CAPS LOCK BUTTONI have this theory. Hear me out.<br />
<br />
If the CAPS LOCK BUTTON disappeared, then maybe all the anger in the world would disappear.<br />
<br />
My reasoning:<br />
People communicate via text, e-mail, Facebook, Twitter, and other media outlets. If there was no CAPS LOCK, people would be less inclined to YELL at their comrades.<br />
<br />
Mind blown...I know. ;)<br />
<br />
And also...<br />
<br />
Ya know when your pinky accidentally hits the CAPS LOCK button and then you press SHIFT to actually capitalize a letter, but then it goes into lowercase?<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><span style="color: purple;">iSN'T THAT ANNOYING????? </span> </b><br />
<br />
SERIOUSLY! THE STUPID CAPS LOCK BUTTON SERVES NO PURPOSE! I hate being frustrated while I type. If it wasn't for the little light on the CAPS LOCK button, I would be pushing it over and over, along with the SHIFT button while trying to figure out what letter is being capped.<br />
<br />
IT'S ANNOYING!<br />
<br />
Ugh, stupid CAPS LOCK button. Why do you have to exist?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-7084973050712372032013-02-11T07:30:00.000-06:002013-02-11T07:30:04.113-06:00Thoughts I have during my dayOne in particular hit me the other day.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Why is it that handicapped bathroom stalls are the furthest away from the door?</span><br />
<br />
It doesn't make any sense.<br />
<br />
They get to park the closest to the stores, but they have to wheel themselves the farthest to poop.<br />
<br />
Things that make me go, <b><span style="font-size: small;">"hmmmmm."</span></b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-58332765151872095362013-02-06T18:57:00.000-06:002013-02-06T18:57:49.827-06:00This isn't mine. I wish it was.<div class="general_head">
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This is amazing...</div>
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I'll try to write something original soon. Ta-ta for now :)</div>
<h1 class="fontsize_44 grid_12">
<a href="http://thoughtcatalog.com/2013/21-things-we-all-need/" target="_blank">21 Things We All Need </a></h1>
<b>
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<b><span class="timestamp caps">Feb. 6, 2013</span></b>
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<b>By
<span class="author_name caps bold normal_style relative">
<a href="http://thoughtcatalog.com/author/nico-lang/">
Nico Lang </a>
</span>
<span class="info_i relative" id="author_i"><img alt="info" src="http://s2.wp.com/wp-content/themes/vip/thoughtcatalog/images/info_i.gif?m=1333992719g" /></span></b>
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<b>
</b></div>
<b>
</b><div class="wp-caption alignnone" id="attachment_166319" style="width: 594px;">
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>
</b><b>1. Someone who really understands us and gets not the person we want
others to think we are, but the person we really are. We need someone
who sees that person and truly cherishes them, just the way they are.</b><br />
<br />
<b>
</b><b>2. Something to lie next to at night, whether that’s a pillow that
you hug, the teddy bear you still have from your childhood, your best
non-human friend or the love of your life.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>3. To know that it’s okay when we screw up and that we are both
forgiven and loved for not being perfect. We need to know that it’s okay
to mess up, so we can work on getting better.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>4. People to push us to be better people, who love us too much to let
us stay scared and broken. We need people who lift us up and help us be
more whole.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>5. To feel like we are doing something in the world. It doesn’t have
to be a big something—like earning a Nobel Peace prize or being the
Meryl Streep of your generation. It can be something like starting a
website with your friends or helping your hoarder grandparents clean up
their life. But we need to feel like we are of service and use to other
people and that we are a force for good in the world.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>6. A day off or a break every once in a while. In a society that’s
always pushing us to be bigger, stronger and more productive, sometimes
we just need down time with our friends, hanging out and watching <em>Arrested Development</em> in our pajamas.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>7. To feel sexy and attractive to other people, even when we aren’t
trying. We need someone to tell us that we are beautiful without makeup
and that they love waking up next to us, before we’ve had that moment to
sneak out of bed, brush our teeth and pretend we woke up just smelling
like that. We need someone to tell us our stinky breath is hot, even
though it absolutely is not.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>8. The agency to make our own decisions about our bodies. We get to
decide how curvy it is, what goes in it, who touches it and what we do
with it.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>9. To be held every so often and have that hug that lingers too long,
when you know someone is crushing you with affection, or that cuddling
session that lasts for hours, when you’re just wrapped up in someone
else entirely.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>10. To be honest with ourselves and other people about our goals and
aspirations — in order to push ourselves to achieve them. We need to not
be scared to want too much or too little and have the courage to ask
for it.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>11. An unexpected compliment or affirmation from someone we respect
or admire. We need to know that the people we look up to think well of
us and that our heroes believe in us, too.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>12. A connection with the world around us. We need to feel like we
are a part of something: a family, a community, a bowling league, a book
club or a world that’s changing for the better, one where our
privileges can be shared with others. It is not enough to hope. We must
also feel like we are a part of that hope.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>13. To struggle. We need to feel things that aren’t easy and tackle
things that are bigger than us, things that no person should have to
deal with at our age. We need uncertainty—to know what it is to hurt and
to be lonely, or we’ll never know how lucky we are when we make it
through to the other side.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>14. The ability to surprise ourselves every once in a while and do
something we didn’t know we could. We need to feel pride in our
accomplishments and a sense of astonishment at the person we are
becoming.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>15. Magic in our lives, even the everyday kind. We need those moments
where you catch the train on time, and you feel like you control the
transit system — that it bends to your mighty powers. Or that magic
moment where you find your remote control or the charger that you
presumed was lost, just to discover it was right in front of you all
along.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>16. To witness a public spectacle with the people we love around us.
Whether it’s the NOT OVERRATED Beyonce taking the Super Bowl’s power
away with her fierceness or going to see <em>The Avengers</em> with
everyone we know, we need that moment where we are all tuned into the
same thing, where we are all part of the same discourse, where we are
all united in having something to talk about. And we definitely need
Beyonce.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>17. Moments where we kick back and let ourselves slide, whether
that’s eating chocolate when we’re training for a marathon (#whatever)
or procrastinating on our thesis with <em>Downton Abbey</em>. We need to remember mix our work and our play.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>18. To stop caring so much about whether other people “like” us and
focus on liking ourselves. We need to stop living for other peoples’
approval—obsessed about how many hits our article gets or whether our
status gets a million likes on Facebook. Start dancing like nobody’s
watching you.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>19. That unexpected moment of progress, going that extra mile when
you feel like you can’t run another step or finally getting through that
Jeffrey Eugenides novel you’ve been putting off. We need to know that
we can achieve what we set out to accomplish and we have the ability to
make it better.</b><br />
<b>
</b><br />
<b>20. To catch up with old friends and have those moments of connection
with our past. Sometimes we’re so focused on where we’re going that we
forget to think about where we came from and the people who made us who
are now. We need to be mindful and respectful of the fact that we are a
process and we are still in development.</b><br />
<br />
<b>21. To stay home on a Friday or Saturday night. As important as it is
to have food and a roof over our heads, it’s equally important to just
exist in that shelter and cherish the simple privilege of existing in
your own space. We need to allow ourselves to close our eyes and just
be. Enjoy the silence.</b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-30120643506818298212013-01-10T19:52:00.000-06:002013-01-10T19:52:18.184-06:00Do you ever?Do you ever have an idea in your head that makes complete and perfect sense but then when you put the <strike>pen to paper</strike> fingers to laptop, the idea disappears? It suddenly melts away...it hides behind Facebook, Twitter, Blogger, IMDB movie trailers (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1333125/" target="_blank"><i>Movie 43</i></a> looks hilarious, btw!), Pinterest, Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, THE LIST GOES ON!<br />
<br />
I have this great idea for a movie. It's beyond wonderful. It will, of course, be a box-office hit! It has to be! It plays out perfectly in my head, from beginning to...well...almost end.<br />
<br />
And there it is. That's the stopping point. There is the distraction. It's not the social media websites that take my eyes away from my screenwriting. It's the fact that I don't have a stupid ending for this movie. I know how I want it to end - happy. I just don't know how to fill in all that extra stuff...you know...dialogue, character development, plot twists, etc.<br />
<br />
It will come to me. It almost always does. I've only been sitting on this idea for five months. That's not long at all. Seriously, it never seems long when a story like mine brews in my head.<br />
<br />
It's quite lovely, actually.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-68465844710960205152013-01-03T20:56:00.001-06:002013-01-03T20:56:39.130-06:00How old are you? Seriously!Working in an office environment can have its ups and downs. I love my job. It's perfect for me. I'm so grateful for it.<br />
<br />
But what is it about the office that turns 60-year-olds into 14-year-olds? Let me be more specific...dramatic, I-just-realized-that-I-have-all-these-feelings-about-things, I-don't-know-how-to-express-them-in-a-mature-fashion-yet, GET OFF MY BACK, 14-year-olds.<br />
<br />
Yes, offices are filled with these types of women. I can honestly say that I haven't run into any men that act like this.<br />
<br />
I'm 25 and every single day I feel like I have more control over my actions and words than my co-workers that have been in the office for 10+ years.<br />
<br />
Maybe that's why they've all gone crazy!<br />
<br />
Hmmmmm...<br />
<br />
Anyway, if it's your job to do something and you decide to have a <b>fit</b> one day and then proceed to stop doing that certain job, then I have lost all respect for you.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Here ends my rant about this past week at work.<br />
<br />
GRRRR!<br />
<br />
I feel better now.<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-64970486222491952132013-01-01T12:25:00.000-06:002013-01-01T12:27:26.298-06:00Hold on to Your Hats, It's Resolution Season!On the first day of 2013, Kinsey went out and ordered a Caramel White Chocolate Mocha at Starbucks. It's a new beginning. 2012 has ended. 2013 has begun. <br />
<br />
On her way to Starbucks, Kinsey passed only a few cars. Not a lot of people out on the brisk day of her new beginning. <i>Hmmm, where are all the people?</i> And then it hit her. <i>Probably at home making resolutions!</i><br />
<br />
This got Kinsey to thinking, "I need to make some resolutions!" It doesn't take much for Kinsey to hop on the train. Last year she resolved to do Jillian Michaels' <i>Yoga Meltdown</i>. By doing this DVD meant that she would have to do it without pause. No rests, nothing...do the DVD all the way through. No "breathers" on the mat. POWER THROUGH IT! NO PAIN, NO GAIN! Motivation from her high school coaches resounded loudly through her head.<br />
<i> </i><br />
Kinsey was naive back in 2012 when she dreamed of six-pack abs and arms made of steel. Jillian Michaels takes no prisoners. She is haunting. In the end, Kinsey died a slow death on her yoga mat without achieving her goal of doing one workout from beginning to end.<br />
<br />
"This year will be different," she said to herself on her drive home from Starbucks. And as she sang and cried to Lonestar's "I'm Already There," she pumped her first in the air and said, "This year is going to be the best year EVER!" *sniffle* "Why is the song ripping my heart out?" *sobs*<br />
<br />
When she got back to her little apartment, she sat down and thought about what she wanted for the year, but she kept thinking too big. So she detoured and took a picture of her Starbucks cup, played with Instagram, and uploaded it to Facebook.<br />
<br />
<b>One hour later. </b><br />
<br />
"Focus!" she said to herself. Kinsey talked to herself a lot, because people do that...they might not admit it, but Kinsey did. <br />
<br />
"First resolution," she said as she admired her Christmas tree, "Take down the tree, take pictures of my new ornaments, and take down the rest of my Christmas decorations, including my lights outside." An hour or so later she was finished.<br />
<br />
"Okay, now for my next resolution." And as she cringed while listening to an overrated Taylor Swift song, it came to her: "I will make three resolutions. One resolution for a better mind, one for a better heart, and one for a better body." She smiled because she knew, after 25 years of living, she had made some sensible resolutions.<br />
<br />
To achieve these resolutions would be quite simple.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;">To form a better mind, she would read one chapter a day out of a current book she is reading and/or write (either blogging, journaling, or screenplay writing). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #990000;">To build a better heart, she would look for the best in people, especially herself, and she wouldn't let opinions from others bring her down, because life is too short to worry about what other people think of her. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">To build a better body, she would tackle Jillian Michaels' ball-busting <i>Yoga Meltdown</i> in stride, get back on a running schedule, and try to eat more vegetables and, sadly, less pizza.</span><br />
<br />
Kinsey's 2013 ultimate resolution is to be endlessly happy, less stressed, and healthy. She sat on her couch with tears in her eyes, nodding at the resolutions in front of her. "UGH!" she said as she wiped her eyes, "I better be getting my period soon."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-59033921045386010572012-12-30T12:26:00.001-06:002012-12-30T12:26:13.776-06:00Commercials at Their WorstAre you ever watching tv and then a commercial pops up for a certain medication and it's the dumbest commercial in the whole wide world? For example: A group of friends are all sitting around a table discussing this new medication this one lady is on. Then she starts talking about how many doses are safe to take daily, the side-effects, and how you should of course check with your physician first. The ladies all ask their friends questions filled with medical terms and the lady answers them like she's reading cue cards.<br />
<br />
Natural, right?<br />
<br />
WRONG!<br />
<br />
Ugh, these commercials are SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ANNOYING!<br />
<br />
<u>This is how this commercial would work in real life:</u><br />
<span style="color: red;">I can't drink that wine.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Why not?</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">I'm taking this pill that makes me poop in my sleep.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">EWWWW! HAHAHA!</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">It's just one of the side-effects, no big deal.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">That is disgusting!</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">I know it is, but I just wear a diaper to bed so I don't have to do laundry every afternoon.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Is there any other weird side-effect?</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">Oh yeah, death.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Figures.</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">I know! Death is always a side-effect.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Anyway...did you watch <i>The Office </i>last night? </span><br />
<br />
And there you have it. If only all commercials were this true. Real life rocks!<br />
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New topic! Here are some pictures of my place and one of me! :) Ignore the clutter. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifeyM6TegI3quVSBZEz5Ysd3FUk_TYOKvrSsYWu-fvjTf_AexFwZRv9qp5P4wMSiX_4Axmy3vPaCq-Vi4MJEZYA2FA4zjMPkLdB5w66HwKbF1avK1wugArhBfOtoMoj3dV-_2DfrvPO4he/s1600/SAM_0063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifeyM6TegI3quVSBZEz5Ysd3FUk_TYOKvrSsYWu-fvjTf_AexFwZRv9qp5P4wMSiX_4Axmy3vPaCq-Vi4MJEZYA2FA4zjMPkLdB5w66HwKbF1avK1wugArhBfOtoMoj3dV-_2DfrvPO4he/s320/SAM_0063.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Yoplait yogurt container has Christmas cookies in them...not yogurt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUm6zL2kiN3evoOtwR1uDe0l3Y-ZpPMtizbiXcvuXHdvL3TX_z97rk1hPBSEp1oKaE7KdK9A2auM8IQM-rfiRxikRlSvD19yHDMuByEJ331tbMMQaIxoILputugRN1YEdSXw2-n92-gro/s1600/SAM_0060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUm6zL2kiN3evoOtwR1uDe0l3Y-ZpPMtizbiXcvuXHdvL3TX_z97rk1hPBSEp1oKaE7KdK9A2auM8IQM-rfiRxikRlSvD19yHDMuByEJ331tbMMQaIxoILputugRN1YEdSXw2-n92-gro/s320/SAM_0060.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm taking my tree down on January 1!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-70861740568225534372012-12-29T18:27:00.001-06:002012-12-29T18:28:23.469-06:00What?! It's almost 2013!Thank goodness we're all still alive after the 2012 apocalypse. ;) I know you all thought I was dead since I haven't been active since November 2011. Holy crap, I'm so sorry I haven't posted. My sister-in-law nudged me to start blogging again and I agree, I do need to start blogging again.<br />
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My how my life has changed. I started a new job in May 2012 as a proofreader at an accounting firm. I love my job. I moved out in August 2012, and I live in a one-bedroom unit of a 4-plex. I absolutely adore my place. It's cute and just the right size. I should post pictures. I'll do that tomorrow. Right now I'm sitting on my couch and I don't feel like moving to grab my camera. I shouldn't have cleaned today. My camera (new camera, btw, and it's totally awesome!) used to be in arms length. Now it is not. Cleaning...I tell ya! *shakes fist*<br />
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Also, I had another one of my ten minute plays produced at the children's theater. It was fun, as always. I don't know if I'll submit one for 2013...we'll see. <br />
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I'm living happily. Life is an amazing thing. I've thoroughly enjoyed 2012 and what it has brought me. I can't wait for 2013. I have a feeling it's going to be a glorious year!<br />
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I hope all is well with you!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-17215474368924514022011-11-11T13:54:00.001-06:002011-11-11T14:43:14.963-06:00You're Gonna Miss ThisI figured out what my role in life is. Don't worry, this won't be some deep and meaningful post. You should know that by now.<br />
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What I really mean is: I know what my role in life is while I'm driving in my car. (More lighthearted. You are welcome)<br />
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I drive a 1996 Pontiac Grand Am. It's had better days - like back in the 90s when I wasn't driving it, but it's gotten me from point A to point B, so I'm not complaining. I'm not. I love my car. I know my car and how it drives.<br />
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It's like my car was built for me. The driver's seat adjustment is permanently locked into place. Some bar or gear or something broke, so only I can drive my car comfortably. Sure, I get frustrated with it sometimes, like how my window will never roll down again so going through the drive-thru is only doable by me opening up my door and ordering my McDouble like a freak.<br />
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But when I'm driving on the highway or exit ramp, my car and I are a blessing. Since my car takes awhile to get up to the speed limit, my slow acceleration happily lets other cars switch lanes. That's what my role in life is on the road. I'm the person who when you are frustrated because you can't get into your lane or if your lane is ending and you desperately need to get over...have no fear, my Pontiac Grand Am is here!<br />
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When my car finally takes it's last breath it will be a sad day. It's been my only car since I got my license, and I'm going to miss it. And the other drivers out there will miss my car too.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-41336063699113600662011-09-17T13:13:00.000-05:002011-09-17T13:13:08.180-05:00Grown-Up FingernailsSome people have really nice fingernails. I call them grown-up fingernails. They're even, strong, and a polite length. Mine are just the opposite: crooked, weak, and short/on the verge of the fingernail not even being called a fingernail anymore. Oh, and sometimes they're dirty or have chipped blue nail polish on them. I like to think that they have personality - "those fingernails have lived," people will say as they pass me on the street. Yet, I still want to have grown-up fingernails.<br />
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I keep telling myself that when I grow up I will achieve nice fingernails. Well, it's been 24 years and my fingernails still look like crap. Sometimes I think I can grow them out, but I just snag them on something and then decide to rip them instead of clip them.<br />
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I'm pretty keen on my hands and fingers though. They are pretty :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-71024821073119249322011-09-08T17:55:00.004-05:002011-09-08T18:11:06.731-05:0024Howdy, howdy, howdy! I'm 24 years old now :) I was born on Labor Day and my birthday was on Labor Day this year. Yay! It was a good birthday. I went out to lunch with my bff Andrea at Buffalo Wild Wings. Then I met my parents at the movie theater. We saw <span style="font-style: italic;">The Debt</span> - really good movie. Then my brother and his family came over for supper and cake.<br /><br />Since my last post, I left you wondering how our team did in our volleyball tournament. We were seeded 3rd out of nine teams. We never got to play the all-girl team again, but we would've definitely beat them if we had, and we ended up with 2nd place!! The team seeded in 8th place won - weird, right? They played the number 1 team and beat them! We watched with wide eyes in hopes that the 1st place team would lose, and they did. Holy crap, it was hilarious :) So we ended up in the championship game with the number 8 team and lost. It's okay. We should've beat them, but they deserved to win. They played a better game than us. It's as simple as that.<br /><br />Now I'm on a new volleyball league with a different team. We played our first game last night and won. It was fun, as it always is.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Here's a picture of my niece Elsie. She is 2months old now!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwX_5rSoxzUQ8NrXRUaYVRdnpXKBQoIvarRhF5pKhBUu6bw7iYlyF_UFW-ybyC9-eFZttQYK3i2p0WOilvvABByYYbXy0MjTYTHllSYEoSnc9Tio1a-GUr3iyP_AViCLiJOda0A5GrFw98/s1600/elsie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwX_5rSoxzUQ8NrXRUaYVRdnpXKBQoIvarRhF5pKhBUu6bw7iYlyF_UFW-ybyC9-eFZttQYK3i2p0WOilvvABByYYbXy0MjTYTHllSYEoSnc9Tio1a-GUr3iyP_AViCLiJOda0A5GrFw98/s320/elsie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650129447333383474" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7fmuvOB4JSIAAvmYcooo9kRmMBdnIJwBxFrStbM1cLicpCCyonciB1jekIUO-RJm1X_IG5JOSUeMpYmCqm6E3MuEUcgbRcTP16lAUxNgm-EJvih5zjAGkwlhzO5Mk3SiYeawPlcMOvzj/s1600/brewerselsie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7fmuvOB4JSIAAvmYcooo9kRmMBdnIJwBxFrStbM1cLicpCCyonciB1jekIUO-RJm1X_IG5JOSUeMpYmCqm6E3MuEUcgbRcTP16lAUxNgm-EJvih5zjAGkwlhzO5Mk3SiYeawPlcMOvzj/s320/brewerselsie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650129444036577442" border="0" /></a>Elsie and me in August.<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-27310539372709387022011-08-26T14:09:00.005-05:002011-08-26T14:35:40.424-05:00Time for a Kinsey UpdateSince I've been gone, I need to do a catch-up with the lovely people who (hopefully) still read my blog when I have a new post. I'm crossing my fingers on that one.
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<br />1. I've been in bar volleyball league since the end of May. We're pretty good. Probably 2nd in our Wednesday bracket. There's one team that's really good, and a guy on the team wears one long colored sock. It's weird, so we call him the sock man. And whenever we have a really good hit, Jeremy says, "We need to put a sock on you!" Haha, we think it's funny.
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<br />2. On Wednesday we played an all-girl team. We had three guys and two girls on our team, since Andrea couldn't make it to the game. The rules are you need to ask the other team if it's okay to play with less girls than guys. I hate asking, and I've only had to ask one other time, but I strolled over to their side of the net and asked politely, "Is it okay if we play with three guys and two girls? My friend is a teacher (put that in there for good measure) and she can't make it."
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<br />They were silent for about five seconds too long before one girl said, "This happens to us every week."
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<br />"So is it okay?" I asked, completely ignoring her snarky remark.
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<br />"Fine."
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<br />Good, I thought. Then we started playing and the all-girl team totally sucks!! They are really bad. The snarky one did that one arm hit almost every time a ball came to her. We won all three games easily. Then at the end I heard the captain talking to the ref: "What would have happened if we said no they can't play with more guys?" The ref shrugged - he was probably thinking, it doesn't matter because next week is the tournament and the brackets are already up and you guys suck, so it really doesn't matter.
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<br />The girl then said, "Because next time this is not going to happen."
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<br />I stood there, signed off on the score sheet, and walked away. Seriously, they are the 2nd to worst team on our league. We could have played with three people and still killed them. I can't wait to play them next week (with our entire team) and really slam it in their faces.
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<br />3. I have a new niece in my family. My sister Tyne had her first baby in July. She named her Elsie, and she is soooooo cute! I'm her Godmother too! Yay! She likes to poop though. Just today, she was at our house and my mom was holding her. Then we heard this loud, juicy fart, and my mom pulled her away and Elsie's poop shot out of the side of her diaper - onto my mom's leg and the floor. GROSS! That was a nasty one. But she's still cute :)
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<br />4. I'm slowly running out of money. Even with my job (which is now only part-time) I'm just making my loan payments and other bills. It stinks. Thank goodness I live at home and don't have to pay for rent or groceries. Oh no, I just said, "Thank goodness I live at home." Something might be wrong with me.
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<br />5. <span style="font-style: italic;">Big Brother </span>is my new favorite reality TV show. I want to be on it so bad! Does anyone else watch it?
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<br />6. I'm obsessed with a new show. It's not a "new" show, but it's new to me. I started watching <span style="font-style: italic;">Battlestar Galactica </span>on Netflix Instant, and I LOVE it! It's so good. If anyone is looking for a show that is action/romantic/drama/mystery, then this is a show for you! It's also kind of funny. I started watching it on Sunday and I'm already done with the first season.
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<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsdVz-8JzvaX2s1giDmybEt4WluPpNxWkiZK65wjnzCX4QtTVa-I8x9D7ln6D9AZI-0-DylBDQNX9C7Jm_6aL2LZmua5un7sCWNHf1muQQVo25YEvV4CTnYn27lOK9pHl2hFtTxLj9_bh/s1600/BSG.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsdVz-8JzvaX2s1giDmybEt4WluPpNxWkiZK65wjnzCX4QtTVa-I8x9D7ln6D9AZI-0-DylBDQNX9C7Jm_6aL2LZmua5un7sCWNHf1muQQVo25YEvV4CTnYn27lOK9pHl2hFtTxLj9_bh/s320/BSG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645250058800658482" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Battlestar Galactica</span>
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<br />Well, I'm off to a wedding this weekend, and I promise to post more.
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-33055916994399827212011-07-06T21:50:00.003-05:002011-07-06T22:19:34.591-05:00Robot BankI feel like I have certain situations that happen to me more than any other person I know. For example, the other day I ran to the bank to make a deposit. One would assume this a simple task. So did I, believe me, so did I...<br /><br />I've never been to this bank before, but I expected it to be like most banks. Tellers greeting you with their sad smiles, that ONE guy holding a bucket full of change, a smelly but very tan dude with sweat stains on the back of his cut-off tee, and the mother trying to control her wild children and then threatening them with "NO wii time tonight!!" Ahhh, the joys of banks.<br /><br />When I entered the bank something seemed off. I felt like Dorothy walking from black & white into the world of color. Except my world of color was a world where no tellers were to be seen. Odd, I thought. Where have all the tellers gone?? Hmmm, whatever, I'll fill out my deposit slip and worry about that little problem later.<br /><br />About one minute later...frick, where are the tellers?? How am I supposed to make a deposit? I stood in the room looking awkward as awkward could be. I see a couple offices, a few "stations" with tv screens and telephones, and a roped off path that led to it. I walked around looking for a teller with my deposit slip in hand and a confused look glued to my face, when finally I decided to ask the guy that was in one of the "stations," "Hey, I'm trying to make a deposit. Where do I do that?"<br /><br />He smiled and answered politely: "Right here. It's like a drive-up window, but inside. It's weird, but this bank is close to my house..." He shrugged.<br /><br />"Are you kidding me?" I said, and walked to my little cubby of a "station." I then proceeded to tap on the tv screen thinking it was a touch screen...nothing happened. "I don't know what I'm doing," I said, still tapping on the NON-touch screen tv.<br /><br />The polite guy walked me through it, "Put the money in the container and push the button, then someone will show up. I know it's weird, believe me. I feel like I'm banking in the future."<br /><br />"This is crazy. I'm never coming to this bank again," I said. And with that I made my deposit talking to the guy in the tv screen who works in the basement. I seriously just walked into the bank and had no human contact with a teller. Unbelievable. Also, these poor tellers are working in a basement...ummmm, sucks for them.<br /><br />Honestly, they might as well have robots working there. What's the point? I walk into a bank expecting to interact with another person, and I talk to a man in a tv. I know that's what the drive-up is for, and if my car window rolled down believe me, I'd be all over that.<br /><br />But I have to walk in and do my business inside. It's the way of the world for me and my Pontiac Grand Am. So as you can see, this kind of awkward banking experience happens to me a lot. Seriously, I don't think Julia Roberts has ever had to go through something like this.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3611813794663912079.post-15541710974545943782011-06-27T16:39:00.003-05:002011-06-27T17:17:04.604-05:00Bates MotelI went to wedding this weekend. It was a nice wedding. Beautiful bride and wonderful music. Very enjoyable. The bridesmaids looked clad in their "Little Bo Peep" dresses - their words...not mine. But they did kind of look like Blue Sheepherders.<br /><br />With every wedding there are speeches. I've given one as a maid-of-honor at my bff Andrea's wedding last August. I kept it short but meaningful. I didn't put in a bunch of "inside jokes" or embarrassing stories. I followed "THE RULES."<br /><br />Unfortunately, at this wedding the maid-of-honor speech ran 10 minutes too long - I'm not exaggerating. This speech was literally 10 minutes long. I died a slow death that night, and almost died (seriously) later that night. I'll get to that later. Anway, the maid-of-honor had way too much to drink, so she rambled on and on and on AND ON about this sandwich - or what she liked to call - "SAMwich." The sandwich wasn't a critical part of the story. She should've stopped after her first story. Yes, she told more than one.<br /><br />After the first story I couldn't even look at the head table. I was so embarrassed and uncomfortable. The entire reception hall slowly went into this awkward silence wishing that she would finally wrap up her SAMwich and call it a day. After about five more minutes of a story that was going nowhere, she finally finished her speech. Like on cue, everyone let out a sigh of relief. Thank god that was over.<br /><br />Before I get to the part where I seriously thought I was going to die, let me tell you about the dinner rolls, because dinner rolls are very important in any meal. Well, every person at the reception received a basket of dinner rolls except our table! I was starving. Andrea and Jeremy weren't starving as much as I was because they ate at BWW during our 3 hour lapse between the wedding and reception. I wanted to save myself for the meal. Bad idea. While everyone else enjoyed their dinner rolls, we all sat drooling over our empty plates. Finally, a server stopped by our table and we informed her that we needed dinner rolls.<br /><br />We all got served our salad, then our meal, then our rolls. But we got extra rolls. And HOT rolls right out of the oven. It's safe to say that we got the best dinner rolls in the entire state of Wisconsin. They were tasty!!!! And we were all able to have two! How wonderful.<br /><br />Okay, now to the part where my life almost ended. So, I stayed at a motel because I wasn't sure if I would be able to drive home after the dance. I played it safe and booked a room across the road. When I checked in (before the reception) and pulled up to my room at The Royal Inn (nice name, right?) I got in and unpacked. The room smelled musty like an attic mixed with bad breath. Gross. So I sprayed my body spray all over the place in hope to mask the smell until my nose got used to it.<br /><br />After the reception I pulled into The Royal Inn and made myself comfortable. The interior wasn't as bad as the exterior. The motel website even states: "Don't judge us by our exterior." That probably should have been my first sign as not to stay here, but I didn't want to spend over $100 a night, just to sleep. Well, I fell asleep and awoke around 2 or 3 am. I had an end room, and I heard two men talking outside. Actually, they were yelling at each other. For example:<br /><br />"Take your mother-effing business somewhere else. I don't want to see your effing face again!"<br />"Nonononononono! I ain't doing nothing wrong."<br />Then there was some pushing (I'm guessing).<br />"I don't care. This is my place and you don't do business here. If you know what's good for you.."<br />blah blah blah, scary blah blah...<br /><br />So I'm in bed, curled up in a tiny little ball with wide eyes thinking, "Ohmygosh, this is it. This is the end. One of the scary talking guys is gonna pull out a gun and shoot the other one, but miss and the bullet is gonna come through the wall and kill me. They won't find me until after check-out, and my dead body is going to be all over the news!"<br /><br />I was freaking out. I thought about calling 911, but if I could hear them, then they could probably hear me, right? And I definitely didn't want to be a witness to anything. So I waited out their 5 minute "conversation" about drugs or pimping, or whatever, and fell back asleep. When I woke up, I was alive and well, but I got the hell out of there, and will never return again.<br /><br />I'm happy to be alive.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9