The End is Near...

You know what, cat? I know the feeling... It has definitely been one of those weeks!!! But in about 2 hours, I will wave goodbye to work and all it entails and not deal with it again until Monday rolls around. See? There IS a silver lining of sorts. So, for all of you reading out there, I plan to have a toddy on my behalf as well as yours. Cheers!!!

Long Island Iced Teas are evil, Evil, EVIL...

There is a reason the acronym for Long Island [Iced] Tea spells L.I.T.!!!!

This morning, I -- along with some other poor souls -- are feeling the awful aftermath of imbibing such vile liquids last night (pitchers, no less!). Why, oh why, could I not be off of work today? My bed was being so good to me, and then I had to abandon it and literally draaaaaaaaaaag myself to work, looking like a HuNgOvEr, too-old-for-this-anymore hag who used to be in a hell of a lot better drinking shape than she is now! Really, I am disappointing myself here...

Maternal Instincts. Or Lack Thereof...

So the family came & went this past weekend w/out incident. Well, almost w/out incident.

See the little cutie-patootie to the left? That's my nephew, Thomas (or "Bubba T", to my dad)... His "Mimi" (my aunt) & I decided to go swimming on Saturday w/ him and were struggling to blow up some silly inflatable turtle & were not paying attention. Go figure. All of a sudden, from the comfort of my reclining raft complete w/ beverage holder, I hear splishing & splashing, only to look over & see one little 2-1/2 year old in toothpick position, arms flailing above water. And for those of you who do not already know, if you straighten yourself into toothpick position in water, you will SINK. Just for future reference. Thomas knows that now, too, by the way...

Mimi & I decided to wisely keep this little incident our little secret (aside from my public posting of it here on my blog, but oh well), as his mom & dad really do not need to know that we almost let their son drown. Hey, I'm just here to teach the little guy that life ain't easy, right? Hee, hee... In his defense, he's a hell of a little trooper -- no tears, jumped right back in (is that courage or stupidity?)...

I love this child to death, but I have never claimed to have very astute maternal instincts... Suffice to say I have had the same cat for 7 yrs. & the same dog for 4 yrs. (my babies) -- so I'm not too shabby of a "mom"! Just not ready for miniature humans needing my undivided care & attention just yet!!!! But kudos to all you parents out there -- you're braver than me...

The Fine Art of Procrastination...

Not to be confused with the fine art of "drinking & cussing", as discussed in one of the posts below... Please folks, do NOT try this at home, for I am a professional.

After spending an exhorbitant amount of time sending hilarious and the-more-shocking-the-better jokes & pictures back and forth for the first 1/2 of the day with my newest "partner-in-crime" (name withheld to protect the assumed innocent, although I have my doubts -- hee, hee...), I feel it is my duty to share some of the fruits of our labors below...

And for those of you out there who think you want my job so YOU, too, can dick off all the time? Well, unfortunately, I am a salaried employee so my work HAS to get done one way or another... Which makes my piddling & wasting time all the more idiotic, because now I just have to make up for lost time. Ho-hum...

Buenas Dias, Mis Amigos...

So lovely... One of my co-workers just got back from Mexico and brought this lovely card to us poor souls who had to stay and work. The sad part? I think years ago, some friends & I sent an eerily similar card to our friends back home while we were in Europe. The difference was that we took the time to actually name assign names to the butts. Oh, to be young and irresponsible again... Good times, good times...

Another One Bites the Dust...

Congrats to yet another one of my best buddies, Mary Catherine (a.k.a. "papamc"), the latest in a string of pals who is toppling off of the tower of singledom (as my friend Cassie once so eloquently put it) and getting hitched... Is there something in the water? Am I gonna have to switch back to Diet Cokes to avoid this epidemic? (As if I ever gave them up in the first place) :)

* And now for the obligatory tangent: just what is THIS all about? Mind you, I have always thought "drinking & cussing" was an art form! This is nothing new, silly reporters... And to drink & cuss around kids? Well, that's just icing on the proverbial cake...

Smile, Cosmile, & Tangent.

Every once in awhile, some minute little instance comes along that brings back a whole r u s h of memories and feelings of nostalgia -- be it a smell, a setting, a story, anything. I love those sorts of things because I am such a sentimental person (see also "gushy", "schmaltzy", "syrupy", etc.) -- cliche' as it may sound, it brings me the warmest and most comforting feelings to reminisce about old times. And even about those not-so-good times (even the bad stuff has a place and a purpose, if for nothing else then to allow us to appreciate the good stuff even more!). I guess I am what you would call your quintessential "sap". And I can't argue one iota. I've certainly been called worse...

(The photo above left was taken in London -- it is a sizable chunk of the Berlin Wall, with the poignant graffiti that reads: "Change Your Life". Why I included it in this post? For absolutely no reason other than the fact that I stumbled upon it and remembered that I took it just about this time of summer years ago... or a fancy way of saying, "because I felt like it.")

Allow me to now change the subject to something along the same lines but yet totally different. In fact, maybe that would have been a more appropriate title for this here blog: "The Big Tangent". Or something like that. But, as always, I digress...

Is there any better feeling in the world than smiling one of those infectious smiles that you have no control over? The big, goofy kind of smiles that is totally unexpected and that you could not stop if you tried? I've always heard that the physical act of smiling releases some kind of chemical (or combination thereof) that physiologically makes one feel more euphoric and content. But, let's face it: there is no denying that the fact that it is also pretty darn good for the health to have something or someone in your life that makes you smile like that!!!

For that and so much more, I thank God... because as much as I may whine and complain about anything and everything, it does not escape me that I am truly blessed beyond anything I can or will deserve. The things I've done, the people I've known, and the feelings I've felt (both the happy times AND the unhappy times) have made me like the luckiest girl in the world for I am truly and undeniably BLESSED!!!

Children, Steak, Wine & a Sick Stomach.

My cousin & her husband & 2 little boys (including the one in the picture to the left, Thomas, who taught me that maybe all kids aren't evil after all because I love, love, love him -- and go figure, he loves me back!) are coming to town this weekend -- and you know what that means? An excuse to cook a YUMMY steak along w/ any fattening & buttery side dish, drink some good red wine, and just be fat & lazy!!! (But let's get real -- does my family ever really need a reason to do any of the above?)

I know all of you were on the edge of your seats waiting for my next post, but I was lucky enough to get sick yesterday and, therefore, I was at home milking my pitifulness (is that even a word?) for all it was worth... I'll spare you the details, but suffice to say that I was NOT a happy camper. Then it all got better when someone was kind enough to bring me the nausea/upchuck cure-all -- Sprite... it was pretty rough there for a little while, but I think I'm gonna pull through -- so take down the billboards, cancel the prayer chains, blow out the vigil candles, for I shall live another day to do more damage... :)

Good Advertising.

I was going through some of the old & oh-so-random pictures on my comptuer and found this jewel, which requires a little bit of explanation.

The picture you see to the left is from the men's urinal in a bar here in town (Midtown Grill, for all of you Meridianites out there). The website that was scrawled on the wall (and which has been enlarged for your convenience) is the address for the website belonging to a ministry done at my CHURCH -- and for which I am a contributing writer (scary, I know): http://www.pavingyourway.com

Before you jump to any conclusions, I DID NOT WRITE THIS ON THE WALL ABOVE THE URINAL. Personally, I like to think that I have found more effective advertising venues, but whoever did do it, it obviously got noticed. Note: I would like to make it known that this lovely graffiti was brought to my attention by a fellow church member who was also at the bar and who shall remain nameless to protect the guilty and/or innocent, if not both -- he noticed it and insisted that I take a picture and send it to our karaoke-happy, fun-loving, awesome minister, which of course I promptly did. Rest assured that I do not just randomly hang out in men's bathrooms looking at wall art. And as we all know, things are much funnier once you've had a couple of drinks flow down the hatch already. That being said, THIS was funny.

Can't beat a little free advertising, right? Even if it does involve urinal cakes and empty automatic towel dispensers...

"sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY!!!!" (in your best monster truck show announcer's voice)...

Okay, so that was probably more excitement right there than all of my Sunday combined, but that's a *GoOd ThInG*... sometimes it's nice to have nothing-in-particular on the schedule and to just, for lack of a better phrase, dick off, you know?

So anyway... that's pretty much what I did yesterday -- dicked off. And it was lovely. First, we went and fed some crickets to some fish. And I mean that literally. There was this one bream that must be an absolute MONSTER, because he took so many crickets off of my hook and I never felt a thing -- oh, he was gooooooood... We finally changed lakes, cheated, threw in some fish food, caught a catfish (probably just for the sake of accomplishment after feeling violated by the cricket-stealing bream from earlier), and then threw it back. So not only was it a good day for me, but the fish had a lucky turn of events as well. In that we did not eat him.

After that, went riding on a 4-wheeler and I am now sporting the sorest ass this side of the Mississippi. (I challenge anyone to prove me wrong on that one.) It's a real pain in the ass to have a really bony butt!!! Hee, hee...

Mud, bugs, sweat, cold beer, tree limbs smacking me in the face -- good, yummy stuff. Just your average-yet-perfect summer Sunday in the South...

Developmental Challenges...

Let me preface these stories by saying that my parents & the rest of my family really are the most wonderful, loving, greatest people in the world. They never laid a finger on me or hurt me in any way. (In fact, the opposite is likely true and I would probably be a lot better off if they HAD beaten me every now and then!!!) For you see, I was what was called an "active" child. For those of you who are not aware, is just a nicer word for "bad". As in, "ACT-ed up". And despite the events I'm about to describe (and unfortunately, there are plenty more where these came from!), rest assured that I turned out unscarred for the most part and relatively normal. I made good grades in school, grew up to be a responsible adult, work hard, have no major issues or addictions, etc. These were just a few roadside attractions along the way that made the ride more interesting.

All of that being said, I can never say that I have a boring family, by any means! These are just a few examples of what were most likely defining moments in my childhood development. This post can also serve as a guide for "what-not-do" in raising your own child:

• Incident #1 -- "The Gin & Tonics"

Ahhh, where it all began... Back in 1980, my parents had just completed construction on the house they still live in today. I was 3 years old at the time. Since our new house was just across the lake from my grandparents, the 2 of them had come over for a visit and all 4 of them -- Mom, Dad, Grandmother, & Grandaddy -- had each fixed a nice, stout gin & tonic cocktail.

On this particular day, they all stepped out on the back porch for one reason or another. However, the things that they failed to take outside with them were 1.) their drinks and 2.) me. Well, as you probably can guess by now, when they stepped back inside, I was still there. The drinks, however, were not. And they swear they were only out there for a minute or two (what can I say, I'm a fast drinker)...

Short story long, in my 3 wise years on Earth, my tolerance for spirits had not yet developed to the level it is today after my investment of years upon years of time, practice, and money. I don't know what the limit is for most 3-year olds, but 4 gin & tonics was way above mine... so I got drunk. Really drunk. Can't-stand-up drunk. Drunk as a skunk.

Now comes the sad part. I know, you're probably thinking, could it get any worse than enabling (however unitentional) your toddler to go on a alcohol binge? The answer is yes. My mom did not take me to the hospital b/c she was embarrassed that it happened! She said she put me to bed and just hoped everything would be alright if/when I woke up... (okay, so that part is *moderately* embellished, I think... although they did not take me to the hospital, they were embarrassed, and they really did hope I was fine when I woke up -- but I'm sure if they had been truly in fear of me dying, we would have been at the ER in no time flat).

But there you have it. A 3-year old alkie. Nice, huh?

• Incident #2 -- "The Ashtray"

I was an overly bright child and learned really fast and early, but my mom always seemed to assume that reasoning abilities were also higher than they should or could be at such a young age. This particular incident also took place around the time that I was 3 yrs. old. 1980 was obviously a really good year for me.

After moving into the above-mentioned new house, we were now living on also brand-new carpet. Light beige carpet. This is back when both of my parents smoked because "everybody smoked". As if that is a viable explanation for taking up the habit. But that's a whole other tangent and I am resisting the urge to go off on it....

So I'm being a good little girl and playing in our den -- being a perfect angel, no doubt. Then, oops! All of a sudden an ashtray that had been perched precariously on the arm of our lovely rust-colored oh-so-early-80's sofa, and ashes go all over the new carpet. The beige carpet.

In case you were not aware, you can dial your home phone number, hang up the phone, and your phone will then ring like an incoming call. Any family with even the slightest hint of good ol' laziness is aware of this fact if they have ever wanted something from the other end of the house and could "call" someone to bring it to them instead of actually getting up and going to get it himself. In other words, my family is well aware of this feature. So what would any loving mother do when her 3-year old has done something bad and is terrified of her punishment (for what reason, I have no idea since I was never really punished much at all)?

[Ring, ring...]
Small Voice (Kelly): "Hello?"

Obviously-Faked Deep Voice (Mom): "This is Sgt. So-and-So with the local police department. Did you just spill some ashes on your mother's brand-new carpet?"

Small Voice (terrified): "Uh-huh." (I know, I know -- I should have said, "Yes, sir," but gimme a break, I was little.)

Fake Deep Voice: "Well, we're going to have to come over there and arrest you and bring you down to the station in handcuffs................."

And then her voice was cut off by my hysterical screaming & wailing because I thought I was going to jail to be locked away forever for ruining my mom's new carpet. So she ran up to find me & hug me & tell me I was not really going to jail & how sorry she was for scaring me, etc. To this day, though, her excuse for the decision to knowingly frighten the shit out of her child? "I just figured you knew it was my voice." Yeah, her *disguised* voice. To a 3-year old.

• Incident #3 -- "The Attempted Drop-Off"

Having already mentioned the fact that I was an "active" child, I happened to be riding along in the backseat of the car with my mom and grandmother, and despite my angel status, I was not being very angelic at this particular moment. In fact, I was supposedly being horrendous, but from what I've heard, that was actually pretty normal.

Anyway, my mom kept telling me to sit down and be quiet, sit down and be quiet, etc. Or to quit doing whatever obnoxious and "active" thing I was going, all to no avail. So what does she do? Once again, I'm thinking her next move would NOT be one most people would choose, but I find it quite telling (and a bit frightening). She suddenly wheels the car into a driveway and up a hill, pulls up to a building at the top, stops the car, turns around, looks me in the eye and says, "Get out."

What makes the story so bad is that the building she pulled up to was the local ORPHANAGE, and I knew it. My mother was trying to kick me to the curb and make me an orphan for acting up in the back seat of the car!!! My 4-year old mind had no idea that she was only kidding (in her own way) -- and that this was yet another case of her falsely assuming that I was more mature than my age and would understand such a joke. I thought without a doubt that she was totally serious so, while I did not get out, I promised to be good and completely quiet for the rest of the ride home. And you bet your ass I delivered on that promise...

So you see, what you see when you look at me now is not my fault. It was all ingrained into me at a very early age. I was brainwashed by my loving family. Blame them. Hee, hee... I guess I can at least say I had a very colorful childhood!!! Seriously, I was blessed with THE greatest parents/family who I love dearly. And they did not do any irreparable damage that we are aware of yet....... :)

Family Guy...

Peter Griffin: "Brian, there's a message in my Alpha Bits. It says, 'OOOOOO.' "
Brian Griffin: "Peter, those are Cheerios."

diarrhea of the mouth. or, rather, of the fingers.

For the love of all that is holy, would someone please stop Tom Cruise and wipe that goofy, shit-eater grin off of his face? Enough already -- how much longer is he going to keep these shenanigans up, huh? He's really messing up my reading all of my silly celebrity gossip magazines b/c his ridiculous antics are taking up article space otherwise reserved for other, more interesting stars and THEIR ridiculous antics, which I actually would care about reading. I wish upon him a hefty dose of postpartum depression -- he deserves it. And to think, I used to really like Katie Holmes. Now she's just tainted.

Okay, so I am an overly sentimental person (read: "packrat") and hold onto objects other, more normal people would have trashed long ago (I recently moved, and my new garage STILL looks like a Salvation Army drop-off station after months & months b/c of all the junk) b/c they are dear to my heart for one reason or another -- not always because of what they are, but because of what they represent to me, memories they evoke, who they remind me of, etc... That would also explain my penchant for pictures and pulling out photo albums at the most random times just to take a gander & wallow in nostaliga... That being said, I decided to make a little list of some of my favorite things in the whole, wide world [people & animals not included]. So, without further ado, drumroll please, here they are, for your boring viewing pleasure (in no intentionally significant order):

My Bible; my quote books & photo albums; anything that my grandmother gave me; party & wedding invitations that once resided on the fridge, held in place by various pieces of removable clothing from the Dress-Up-The-Statue-of-David magnet set (including, but not limited to: a leather jacket, whitey-tighties, scuba flippers, goggles, etc. -- clearly David was a real fashion plate ripped straight from the pages of GQ magazine when not standing around in the buff... oh, and the magnets are not included in the "cherished" category of my belongings...); cards & letters received from people who I love & care for, including the longest letter anyone has ever written to me (50+ pages); old drawings & paintings done by my dad & other friends & relatives; my iPod (gimme a break -- a hell of a lot of blood, sweat & tears went into compiling such a delicious library of music & sound clips!); 2 very loved pairs of pajama bottoms that I could not live w/out -- one pair is flannel & the other is like a pair of scrubs -- yummy!; my burgeoning little art collection (see painting above right); various & often random-as-hell whatchamacallits & thingamajigs that found their way home w/ me on trips around the world -- Italy (see photo to the right), Prague, Belize, British Columbia, Costa Rica, Switzerland, Thailand, Germany, France (see Pere Lachaise Cemetery above left), Great Britain, Mexico, Nova Scotia, Singapore, etc. (I love to travel and the fact that I have been lucky enough to have the opportunities to make these trips is not taken for granted -- I've been a lucky girl, well beyond anything I deserve!); various things that people have made or built for me (a dollhouse, jewelry, artwork, a doghouse, things that were sewn for me by my mom or grandmother, etc.), the list could go on for ages...

BUT! Because I am the sweetheart that I am, I will spare you, Dear Reader, the pain of any more endlessly prolonged rhetoric... If you made it through this post, you deserve a big, fat GOLD STAR slap-dab in the middle of your forehead... Bravo, bravo...

Absurd Observation.

So I'm sitting on my backporch this evening listening to the crickets (it's exciting here in Meridian, what can I tell ya?) while my dog, Mattie, gnawed away at this really nasty-looking, no-telling-how-old rawhide chew. Of course, you'd have to see the *gusto* she puts into what one would think should be a simple act -- she's a serious little machine. But anyway... so I sat there like a dumbass watching her, and I mean, she devoured it. I thought for a minute she was going to choke on it after gulping like she'd just swallowed a grapefruit, but it apparently went down just fine.

The above-referenced observation comes next. Let's see, what would YOU do after having a really big, good snack that just satisfied your hunger perfectly? Well, if you're a 9-lb. shih tzu, apparently you would intently throw yourself onto your back right on your eating site and just rub yourself all over it with a big, fat, goofy look on your face. Okay, even if that IS territory-marking, isn't it a little late? The food is already gone -- YOU ate it! Or actually she did. (I'm thinking shih tzus were not bred for their hunting & predatory skills.) But anyway..........

(cue hollow, polite chuckle)
Probably more of a "you-had-to-be-there" moment, huh? Whatever... it was damn funny, I don't care what anybody says. Just think if your first instinct after eating was to do that. Ew.

The New Black? WTF?

I thought it only fitting to explain why I chose "The New Black" as the name of my blog... Well, really it is just a play on words -- por ejemple, "Oh, you simply must get some red leather chaps immediately -- they are like the new black!" You know, because they go with everything. That way, no subject is off-limits. Which is good, since I can [unintentionally] be quite random at times...

My friend, Kimberly, suggested that I call it "WTF" -- a very noble suggestion since I use that phrase more often than I realize (or should). I have had some very adept guesses as to what those three lovely letters stand for (one of them starting out with "Whore") from those less foul-mouthed than myself who do not store this phrase in their everyday vocabulary. Sooooooo, for those few of you still wondering what is stands for: "What The Fuck"... Lovely, huh? Hark, fair Juliet speaks!!!! I know I still make my parents proud, dammit. (Then again, they do not read this, but methinks they might recognize me if they saw the pictures -- just maybe.)

To give more perspective on just how bad my language can be, we now close the door to our office at work because we often deal with & talk about ultra-top secret stuff (you know, the type that would cause us to have to kill you if we told you -- after all, people, this IS a car dealership!)... But I know the real reason: it's because of Kelly's foul mouth.

I guess I just figured there was no reason to censor my language on here (okay, I'm not THAT bad!) because without the use of certain words, I just do not know if I could communicate effectively. Sad, isn't it?

Let's just suffice to say I'm not a girl who is easily offended, yet I'm still ever a lady. Yeah, that sounds good.......... until I think of something better.

Boredom brought to fruition...

Don't I just have the most imaginative little friends? Or rather, friends with WAY too much time on their hands??? To the right is a picture of a really ugly "I'm Rick James, Bitch!" trucker's cap (which, I must note, does NOT belong to me!) cleverly edited to read my father's name, "Rick Justice". See what weather forcing you indoors will make you resort to for entertainment?

Congratulations, Mollie Anne!!!

Very best wishes to Molly, my bestest friend in the whole world, and Sean, the guy lucky enough to have snapped her up by proposing to her last week!!! Sweet, cute, love, love, love y'all!!!!!

(f.y.i.: Molly looks a little bit older now than the 3rd grade Easter Egg Hunt pic to the left)

...a ROYAL mess...

I was thinking that maybe a better choice of self-appointed title would have been "princess" rather than "queen", as the former implies youth, beauty & innocence whilst the latter elicits a more regal, wise & sophisticated image . Well, that, and the image of a flaming homosexual man, which I most definitely am not. "Not that there's anything wrong with that..."

The word on the street around town is the impending arrival of Hurricane Dennis, which looks like it could be pretty rough. Ironically, it is an absolutely GAW-geous summer Saturday -- the ol' "calm before the storm" cliche', I guess... I'm quite certain there will be posting more on Dennis once we start dealing w/ the aftermath... Gee, I can't wait.

On a side note, a customer @ work called yesterday to tell us there were "mews" coming from under the hood of a van on the lot ("work" being the family car dealership), so of course I had to go out there & take a gander... Needless to say, I came back w/ a mad little kitten in my grubby hands!!! He softened up quickly after eating some sliced roast beef & getting lots of petting -- but then again, who wouldn't!!!??? Grandmother was kind enough to let the little guy live @ the barn (I say "he" b/c we think we saw his landing gear)... Add another critter to the family zoo... surprise, surprise... What can I say? We're suckers for animals...........

Dennis the Menace.

Dennis blows. Since it seems nothing is going to get accomplished at work today (yet another excuse) because of all of the fervent anticipation of Hurricane Dennis, I might as well address the issue, I guess. While I am not as worried about our condos since they are still pretty much bare bones after Hurricane Ivan LAST SEPTEMBER, this is still not the way I was picturing my first weekend of relaxation @ home after traveling on long trips for the past couple months... As Steven so aptly put it: "That is good. I wasn't really wanting to go to the Beach until 2012 anyway." Amen.

Where were YOU seven years ago today?

Has it really been that long? Wow -- I'm old. Anyway... I just happened to think that, 7 years ago, I was plodding my way through Europe with some of my closest pals for "business classes" through a program at our college (or, as my dad, who funded my little expedition, appropriately called it after getting slurry phone calls & seeing the pictures: "Pub Tours of Europe"). And why is it that I remember where I was on a random day years ago? Because, coincidentally, we departed the United States for 6+ weeks of general debauchery on America's Independence Day -- July 4, 1998... (first stop: London, England) It's kind of hard to forget irony like that...

Anyway... in honor of that trip, here is a lovely little picture that shows a few of us on the side of the road, drunk as drunk can be (see alcohol spills glaringly visible on clothing)... Consider this my little "toast" to the Kill-Your-Liver-Tour and all of my partners-in-crime -- I wish we still had that lack of responsibility and could do it again. Immediately. If not sooner.