I pay 13 bucks a month for my cable. I only get 13 channels and one of those is the Spanish channel and since I don't hablo espanol, it's useless to me. So when Jonathan and I got together, we decided that we would do Netflix since it was the summer, all the shows are reruns and we both like movies and let's be honest, paying 15 bucks to go see a flix that maybe crab really sucks, so Netflix seemed like a good idea. My sister Sara has this, people at work have it, everyone is loving the Netflix. I signed up for the 2 at a time, unlimited for $14.99 and off I went to my queue. I picked out some movies that I had seen but I knew Jonathan hadn't and that were excellent (ie, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang) and a few series like Prison Break and Weeds. I was so excited to get the first two and I was told through an automated email from Netflix that my first 2 movies would be in my mailbox in about 2 days. On day 2, I opened my mailbox and there they were and we watched one that night. The next day I returned it and 2 days later I had an email saying that my next pick should be in my mailbox the following day. It was. This is the coolest thing ever. I was so excited and pleased that it was like Christmas with my new movies rolling in. This went on for about 3 weeks, we were prompt to send them back, Netflix was prompt in sending more. Then, last week, we got 2 movies, we watched 2 movies, I returned 2 movies. A few days went by with no email. Another few days went by with no email. We were pissed. Jonathan decided to 'report a shipping problem'. This included a few questions and then Netflix getting an email stating that they had better send us the movies or else. (not really, I think it was an automated email). This was done on Saturday. Monday I had two emails saying that they had received both movies that I had turned in a week ago. So, what have I learned, Netflix is good as long as you aren't quick like a bunny with the returning…but I haven't learned my lesson. Watched UFC last night, turned it in today. Watch out Netflix or you'll get another email……..

I never get sick, unless it's the stomach flu and then my body's on that like a fat kid on a buffet. I haven't been to the doctor since the 8th grade when I graced Dr King's office with my weird growth. I had staph. It was gross. I was in Hawaii when I found out it was staph and the poor girls at the pharmacy were afraid to get to close to me because my prescription was 1000mg of something that kills gross living stuff. Large amounts of green and white toothpaste like puss came out of it and it wouldn't stop flowing. I know that this is gross but at the same time, it was kinda cool. Granted, I had to remain seated the whole time for fear that I would pass out but after it was all out, I felt like a million bucks. Anywho.
So when I had to have a TB test for the nursery I work at on Monday, I obviously assumed that since my luck with the exotic diseases that no one has, I would have TB. I had no idea what TB was and some co workers claimed that I would be coughing up blood if I had it. I coughed in my hand, no blood. I'm good and figured I was safe. I make an appointment with the nurse and she injects this 'test' under a patch of skin on my arm. It doesn't hurt, it just looks like a weird mosquito bite. It goes down by the time that lunch is over and all is well. On Wednesday when I am suppose to have my test read, I am chatting with some co workers and I show the spot where my TB test was given. It is red and has a bit of a bump. Robin, who has had a TB test, explains that her's was not red and not raised. Great. I have TB.
I roll into the nurses office at 11:30 sharp, anxious to hear my fate. She lifts my sleeve and says that I'm good. She says that a normal TB test will show a raised place (which I have) and will be red (which it is). I ask her if she is seeing what I'm seeing. She laughs the polite laugh that people give when you've just made them feel like an idiot. The nurse explains that mine is just skin irratation. 'Okay' I say and I realize that it's actually me who's the idiot and I'm on my merry little way TB free.
I get back to work and my 2 of my 3 most favorite co workers Robin and Nancy are conversing in Robin's office. They ask me how it goes and I begin my dramatic performance.
N&R: Hey! Wanna get some lunch?
Me: Naw, I'm just gonna eat my salad at my desk
N: Well can we join you?
Me: Rock on
R: So how was your TB test?
Me: (in a very dramatic voice) Yeah, I have TB. I have TB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
N&R: Shut up!!! No you don't.
Me: I'm serious! Me,who never gets colds but gets freaking staph and TB
R: You're such a liar!!!! You would be coughing up blood!!!
Me: Apparently I'm in the beginning stages of it and that comes later on. That's why the test was only a "little" positive according to the nurse.
N&R: Shut up, you are full of it.
Me: I'm not kidding. I'm freaking out. I had to have a shot in my ass, and they gave me a freaking $80 prescription that I'll um, pretty much have to take for the rest of my life.
Now, by this time I can tell that they are just on the vurge of believing me so I keep going
N: (Backing up a bit) Well if you have TB aren't you contagious?
Me: No, they gave me the shot for today and as long as I take my antibotics I'm good. (word vomit coming out of my ass)
R: So what are they going to do? Oh my gosh, I can't believe you have TB.
Me: I know, me either. It's crazy. But really, I so don't have it.
N&R: You suck!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The best part is that Ryan, my 3rd fav co worker, comes to my desk the next day and sits down with a very concerned look on his face. I ask him what's wrong and he asks me if I have TB. I tell him no, that I was joking around with Nancy and Robin and they believed me. He says very relieved because he hadn't heard the 'just kidding' part. I'm laughing about this later making fun of Ryan and what a douche he is for believing that I really had the TB. He then starts laughing AT ME revealing that he had heard the 'just kidding' part but that he wanted to be a punk and make me believe that he had spent a day thinking I had the nasty funk TB. Nice.

I rear-ended the guy in front of me today. It was a scratch, very, very minor damage. It was his fault kinda because he has no balls. We live on a BUSY intersection and some mornings at 8 you just gotta jump out there in front of traffic and gun it with all you got. Now, he drives a freaking 2006 Honda so I know that baby's got some get up in it. (Right Robin? : ) ha ha) Anywho. So here we are and it's 8:00 am and traffic isn't too bad and I'm sitting behind him patiently waiting for him to go. And he guns it and I gun it and he stops and I stop because I've hit him. Now, at first I'm just praying that maybe he didn’t notice. Maybe he just thought that he farted loudly or that God was just giving him a shove because God realized that the driver of this vehicle has no balls and needs to go.
He gets out of the car, I say I'm sorry, I back my Xterra up off him and we survey the damage. At this point I really don't care about my vehicle because it's not a concern of mine if I have a scratch or if some paint is missing. It adds character. He on the other hand says with a very heavy Chinese accent that he just got this car. Of course he did because that is my luck. My insides want to yell at him for being a douche and not going but I don't want to hurt this guy's feelings. Now, I've only been in one wreck where the cops were called and I wasn't the one doing the calling so I wasn't sure how all of this works. He obviously was not just going to let me write him a check and us be on our merry little ways. I call 911. It rings 4 times. The lady answers and I tell her what has happened and she asked if I would just like to make a report over the phone or if I would like a police officer to come out to the scene. Huuummmm, I'm going with no cop but I'll ask my new friend. He wants a cop. Of course he does. I again want to argue but I don't because I hit him and it's kinda his call, plus, I don't want to hurt his feelings because he's about to turn on the waterworks because I've just scratched up his new toy. I call Jonathan and explain what happens. He comes there and is asking me why we are still blocking the exit. I say that my new friend refuses to move. 3 people ask this guy to move, finally he is told to do so and it happens. I call mom. She says to take pictures. I have a camera and I hop out of my truck in the rain and I'm taking pictures of this. Me doing this causes my new friend and his friend who came for moral support to begin cussing me in their native tounge. Oh well, I've got bills and I do not need someone trying to say that something happened that didn’t. I tell Jonathan to go to work, that I will be fine. About 30 minutes later the cop comes and I apologize a million times that he had to come out here in the rain for a scratch and some dirt (which has now washed off). He says it's no big deal and that he doesn't write the tickets because it's private property. I call to tell Jonathan this and he's on his way back because he felt bad that he left so now I've made him late for work. Yippy. My new friend gets in the car with me and we exchange info. He tells me that of course he's going to need a rental. I tell him no because he works by me, I'll drive his ass around. He gives me this weird look like "lady you already hit my car, how do I know whether or not you're going to slice my throat". Jonathan kisses me and tells me that he loves me and I'm looking kinda sad clown. He tells me to shake it off and to not let it bother me. I do exactly this. I get to work, gripe for a minute and then I'm done.
My new friend has called me twice. I hadn't even called my insurance company yet. I call and talk to my claims rep Jason who is very nice and we crack a few jokes even because I mention the fact that my new friend is a douche and wouldn't go. He chuckled and said that everyone has done that. My new friend calls for the 3rd time, even thought I told him I would call him and I feel bad again because my he has taken the day off from work to deal with his car business and here's me, continuing with work, going to meetings, lunching with my friends, laughing, having a good time and he's stuck in a body shop with Mac the mechanic who is WAY over pricing everything because we all know insurance is going to cover it….but then I think, oh well, you SHOULD OF GONE!!!!

I played mom this weekend. My friend Belinda has an almost 3 year old, Jas, and she needed a sitter for Sunday but since I was going out of town on Saturday, I told B I would just take Jas with me. At 3 pm sharp I was loaded into the Xterra with a kid in the back. She was a little upset leaving her mom but she was cool a few miles down the road. She's at the age where you really can't hold a conversation with her other than, 'you need to go potty?' or 'do you want some juice?' but she likes to sing and that makes me laugh. For the first half of the trip, it was cool. I could see myself doing this, toating a kid around, driving down the road, singing weird kid songs together. We get to my parents house and she immediately begins playing with my niece Brianna. They are running around acting like looney tunes and screaming and such. All of this noise is giving me a bit of a headache. The fam (which consisted of me, mom, dad, sister Sara, Brianna and Jonathan) decide that a nice meal at the Hamburger Barn is in order. Here comes the fun part: packing up the kids. Jas needs her passy and her weird punk naked Barbie and her juice and I have to move her car seat in the 107 degree temperature from my truck to my sister's mini van. This is not an easy task but all is well. Jonathan decides that he will drive because no cigerattes can be had in the car with a child. Jonathan and I talk about life and us and marriage and kids the whole way down. By this time, I can't wait to get Jas out of my sister's van and play mom again. After Jonathan telling Jas that he refuses to carry her if she brings naked punk Barbie in, she settles on an off colored baby of Brianna's to tote along. Entering the restaurant, I am greeted by the hostess, I'm asked if I would like a booster or a highchair. Hell if I know, a booster? Sara agrees and off we go. I sit Jas in this contraption and she flips open the menu like she's been here 100 times and knows exactly what she wants.
Me: 'Jas, are you hungry?'
Jas: Crazy head nod in the motion of yes
Me: 'Do you want chicken strips?'
Jas: head nod again
Me: 'Do you want a hotdog?'
Jas: head nod again
Me: 'Um, hotdog or chicken?'
Jas: 'Hotdog'.
We have a winner folks. I see that they only have hotdog nuggets on the menu and I figure it's bad enough that against my better judgement I'm allowing this child to eat weird meat bits but to subject her to 'nuggets' is a little off.
While all of this deciding for Jas is going on (thank God this fat kid knew what she wanted already), Jonathan has eyed an appetizer and a 14 oz steak. I agree that he can have both because momma got a nice paycheck from the makeup counter and we continue our meal and it is yum. The bill comes and it's $44.00. To me, that's a lot. And we want 2 kids, we are looking at $50 every time we go to dinner. Wow. After paying, Jonathan grabs Jas and carries her to the car and later tells me that he loved carring her around because she's cute and he's sure that people though she was his. I smile. Yup, this is the future father of my children being all cutelike. Anywho, I brought no crackers so we are done with that cheese. : )
My best friend Lesly calls me on the way into town and says that she wants to take me and Jonathan out for a drink. I tell her that we are playing parents and that is cool if we don't stay out too late. She agrees and off we go again. I get outside and Jonathan has put her car seat in the back of his jeep and it is quite possibly the cutest thing ever. We are heading to the restaurant to meet Lesly and Jonathan does a u turn to McD's to get Jas some icecream because he asked her if she wanted some and of course she says yes. Mind you, it's going on 9:30 and I good and well know that this icecream is going to make her a circus clown but I don't argue. He cares her into the restaurant and she winds up falling asleep in my lap. It's cute.
The next morning Jas is up at 6:30. I am liking the fact that she really can't go anywhere because (a) she's in the pack and play crib thingie and (b) the door is shut and would be hard for her to open. My sister is not so kind. She picks Jas up and allows her to be her usual self. I go back to sleep. Sara then wakes me and tells me that I have to 'get up and watch the kids' because she needs a shower. I walk into the kitchen and Jas and Brianna are eating breakfast. I then realize that this mom stuff, not so fun when it comes to getting up before the sun and having to make wee breakfasts and them being loud. I dress Jas and off she goes with my parents for Sunday School. Jonathan is still asleep and I make his breakfast and go wake him.
Jon: 'Oh you're up babe?'
Me: 'um yeah, been up since 6:30!!!'
Jon: 'Why?'
Me: 'that's what kids do'
Jonathan has already asked where Jas is and is kinda sad that she's not with us. He says he may not be able to wait 3 years for kids. My heart jumps a bit. That's scary. No sleep, always having to be careful and not stay out and no sleep and taking care of the little one and no sleep. Wow, is this cool?
After church, Jonathan takes my hand and we preceed to the nursery to pick up Jas. Shes playing with the other kids and she doesn't see us walk up to the door. I say her name, her head pops up from the coloring sheet and her eyes light up. She runs towards us with all her might and leaps into my arms. Jonathan says 'come here Jas', she immediately goes to him and I realize, yup, I do want this. And I didn't even care when I'm handed a Wal-Mart bag housed with pee filled Strawberry Shortcake panties.

There are 3 little words in the English language that when put together can make you feel like a million bucks, make you cry, make you laugh, scare the hell out of you or as George on Seinfeld shared, make a dog lick himself. They are "I love you".
The first time I heard these words from the opposite sex, I was in 9th grade. My boyfriend's name was Jason and he was a hottie. I mean the star football player, blonde hair, blue eyes, nice body, he was it on a stick. We were sitting outside after youth group on a Wednesday night and it was cold outside and I of course was wearing his lettermen's jacket because we were cheesy freshman. We were talking about something non important, and he looked at me and told me that he loved me. Now, I was only 16 at the time but I knew about love. I knew that you shouldn't say it unless you mean it and the depth of it was that you would truly die for that person. While Jason was cute, I don't think that I would jump all Superman style in front of a bullet if it was hurling towards him. So, for a moment I paused and said the most polite response I could think of. I told the boy "thank you". This of course shocked him a bit. He then preceded to ask me if I was going to say it back. I simply said no. Jason and I dated off and on through high school and not once did he say it again and not once did I want to say "thank you" so it was all good.
The second and third time were a little different for me. I had been dating this guy for all of a month and I said it to him. I got no response. Not a shocked look, not a dog lick, nada. It was okay though because I knew that he did and eventually he would tell me. That was the first time that I had said it to a boyfriend and no, he never said it back. It's cool though because we are friends now and I realize that it really wasn't love. It was just a like.
The third time I said it, I had been with this guy for about 6 months. He didn't say it back right at the moment but he did about a month later. We only said it a few times in our relationship and that was cool. When we said goodbye and ended things, we repeated the phrase to each other and both truly meant it but knew it wasn't meant to be. I hope he's well and that he's found happiness.
All of this blah blah blah lead up to Wednesday night. I was babysitting the kids at the church and I had snagged Jonathan some banana pudding (this lady at church makes some wanna slap your momma in the head good pudding) and I texted him saying that I had a surprise to bring him. He wants to know what it is, I decline stating that it's a surprise. He then texts asking if it was a 'blow up doll'. I reply with 'no, it's banana pudding but way to ruin your surprise for this weekend'. I waited for a response but got nothing so I continued wrestling with the 9 kids Robin and I were watching. About an hour later my phone rang, just once. I opened my phone and my missed calls revealed that Jonathan had called. I push the green button and the phone rings a few times.
J: hey
Me: hey, did you need something?
J: uuuhhhh, no
Me: well then why did you just call and then hang up?
J: um, I don't know, uh nevermind
Me: okay well bye then (and yes I say this a little disgusted)
J: bye? That's all you have to say is bye?
Okay, by this time I'm thinking the boy has taken something. He's acting very strange like but I just ignore it and he tells me that he got all of the classes that he wanted and we end the conversation with a 'see ya when I get home' thing.
About an hour and a half later, I arrive at my apartment and he's in the bedroom looking very pitful in the corner. I immediately ask him what's wrong because he looks like he's just lost his best friend. He proclaims that nothing is wrong and he kinda brushes past me. I am taken a bit by surprise because normally I'm greated with a 'hey baby' followed by a hug and a kiss. I again ask what is wrong. He looks at me with these sad puppy eyes and says that he figured I would be mad at him. Mad? Why on earth would I be mad? I scan the apartment. My furniture was in tack, there was no weird poop stains on the floor and my cat's throat is not slit. I ask Jonathan his reasoning for this thinking. He states that it was because of the text message. I am puzzled now…we were joking around I thought. Woa, lightbulb off in head.
J: what was the last message you got?
Me: the one about the blow up doll
J: (falls on bed, covering face, very dramatic) oh my gosh!!!!!
Me: what babe what?
J: I sent you 3 texts after that
Me: I didn't get them. What did they say?
J: (opens phone) push okay, back, up, okay, back, up, okay, back, up
I look down at his phone and I see what the first text reveals: "I love you". I almost faint. The next is "okay, no response". The third is "okay, I must have really freaked you out".
Ah huh, that's right. The man that I'm crazy about and is crazy about me spend 2 and 1/2 hours worring that a. I didn't love him back, b. he scared the piss out of me and c. that his words changed everything.
The boy can't even look at me. It's the cutest thing ever. He is being nerotic and all girlie like rambling on about how that was the first thing that came into his head because my response to the blow up doll text was perfect and that he didn't want it to ruin anything and he knows that we are headed towards marriage and kids but he didn't want me to feel pressured and that it demanded a response and on and on and on. Then after the completion of word vomit and me smiling at him like a goofy kid, he stops himself and says, 'I sound like you'. I laugh and we kiss and I say that I love him too.
While it wasn't all roses and beautiful music, to me, it was perfect.

I'm on day 3 of the diet. I hate diets. I wish that I was one of those girls who could eat what they wanted and never work out and never gain weight. I knew a girl like this in college. Her name was Haley and why you wanted to hate her for the fact of her ding dong and mac and cheese eatings, she had the best heart in the world. I remember asking her if she ever worked out to keep her perfect bod. She replies very sarcastically, 'the only exercise I ever get is going up and down stairs to class'.
I'm not an unhealthy eater by any means and nor do I think I would be if I could. I wouldn't be that kid always at Baskin Robbins or the one scrapping quarters up for 3 double cheeseburgers. I would just like to not have to think about everything I put in my mouth and whether or not it is going straight to my hips. I was even the loser at a fun party tasting the 'fun' lotions and asking how many carbs each contained.
Since January, I have lost about 45 lbs. Good for me. I have to keep reminding myself that. It's funny what love and happiness does to you though. I'm the type of person to not eat and just cry away the calories if I'm sad but to not give a rats ass about the 3000 calorie meal consumption if I'm happy. Since I tend to be happy more of the time than sad, it's all down hill.
So last week when I put on a pair of pants that 2 months ago hung loosely but now fit ever so snug, I decided that happy or not, I can't be putting on weight. Jonathan was gripping about his belly (which I happen to love) and we decided that Monday would be the day we would start our diet. Sunday night we went to IHOP and ordered 2 country breakfasts and chowed down. I then realized that Monday was b-day dinner night for my niece Lily and that diet day would have to be on Tuesday. It is now Thursday, and I have not cheated one time. You may not think that this is a big deal seeing is how it's only been 3 days but let me assure you that every time I exit my office, I'm faced with temptation. I never know if it's going to be cookies or donuts or bite Snickers, but it's there, every day looking at me, saying 'eat me' like the damn cookie monster or something and not to mention the left over wedding cake that melted in your mouth with the strawberry icing or the fact that there are posters up everywhere for the icecream social at work and my programmer Chris walking into my office with a big bowl of goodness topped with whipped cream and me yelling, "get out of my cube!!!" at the top of my lungs. Anywho. I'm not the bitter fat kid I swear.
So I'm feeling down and depressed because my pants do not allow me to breath and I'm frustrated picking out clothes. I decide on an outfit and I'm rushing around trying to get ready. Jonathan is still asleep and I go to wake him up and with his sleepy eyes he looks at me and says, 'Wow'. I ask what in the world he is talking about and he replies with, 'You're absolutely beautiful". It's at this moment I realize that I'm being an idiot and I should just have a brownie…and some chips…and….

Saturday night Jonathan and I had dinner with his parents. It was a lovely meal at a local restaurant named Cheers. No, it was not a bar really where everyone knows your name, it’s a quaint little restaurant that serves some rockin sandwiches and such. I swear, the sauces this place has, yummmmmmy. Anywho. After dinner, Jonathan's mom suggests that we all watch a movie and she wants something suspenseful. Jonathan and I head to the movie store where we view the new releases. Now, when it comes to watching movies with the parentals, I like to stick to safe ones and by that I mean either (a) one I have seen before so I know what the 'content' is or (b) something G or PG. I cannot tell you how many times I've been watching a movie and BAM, out of no where a boob pops out or all of the sudden folks are going at it like teenagers on prom night.
My first experience with seeing a sex scene with a parental figure was with my mom. To this day, I cannot recall what movie it was but I do know that I was in college-well beyond the years of knowing that 1+1 can equal some hanky panky. So mom and I are setting there at the Behind the Mall Cinema and I can feel it building, they are kissing, hands are roaming and oops, there goes the shirt, oh and they are on the bed and holy cow, yeah, they are poking. As explained before, I tend to crack jokes when I'm uncomfortable. I lean to my mom and began a conversation while these young people are getting down to business.
Me: (whispering) "Mom?"
Mom: "Yeah?"
Me: "What are they doing?"
Mom: (not whispering) "Oh Amanda Kay!!! You know what they are doing."
Now, my mom is not an idiot. She knew very well that I knew what they were doing but she could sense that it bothered me that I knew that she knew I knew what they were doing.
This incident was repeated last Christmas when my brother in law, Jason and I went to rent movies on Christmas day. I had seen the previews for 'High Tension' and thought that it looked kinda Texas Chainsaw-ish so we rented it. Again, no warning, a tape is popped in a Walkman, headphones placed on ears, the main character lays on the bed and slowly begins going downstairs. This girl is masterbating ever so happily and my mother is sitting right beside me. The winner of all of this is that the guy who did all of the putting together of this movie, thought it funny that he switch scenes back and forth from the masterbating and then to a relevant part of the film. Here's Jason fumbling with the remote and me yelling "fastforward" as loud as I can but he keeps having to rewind because we are missing important parts. You get my point I'm sure.
So, as Jonathan and I are scanning the isles of the movie store looking for something suspensful and boob free, I stick to ones I've seen. I suggest 'Red Eye', suspensful and no naked folks. He says cool. Then, out of no where, weird movie store manager comes over and begins talking to us about what is good and what we should get. He chooses a couple and 'Red Eye' is one of them. Again, going with the safe bet of no boobs, I suggest this again. Then, movie store manager starts talking about how great 'Munich' is. Based on a true story of the killing at the Olympics in 1972, has cutie dude that played the Incredible Hulk, looks safe, okay lets get this one, and off we go with the movie.
The movie begins and its bloody and pretty acurate so we are all enjoying it. The main character (hottie Incredible Hulk) has a wife who is about 7 months pregnant and he has been asked to lead the group that is going to seek revenge on the killers of the Olympians. Well, I guess that Spielberg was trying to portray the humanity of the group because 30 minutes into the movie, he is humping and a pumping with his pregnant wife. I don't feel so bad about this scene because 1) they are married so it's allowed and 2) they are both clothed with the sheet ever so slightly placed to cover the unmentionables. Okay, made it past that one. Next, a chick is hitting on him in the bar and blah blah blah and I'm hoping that he's going to be a good guy and not cheat and he doesn't. Okay good, close call. A few scenes later, Hottie Hulk's co worker is found on the bed all nudity patooty with some shadows in all the right places but let's be honest, we all know where each other's a looking. Next, the chickie doing all the hitting on the married man begans to undress and out pop boobies (I admit, they were nice and I could deal with Jonathan seeing them, but not his parents) and then she falls into a chair wearing nothing but 3 bullet wounds and an open robe. That's right, full frontal. Here is the moment when Jonathan shouts out 'cooter hair'. I wanted to die but his mom laughed. Last but not least, Incredible Hulk man is home and in bed with the wife. You would think that it would be a sweet 'love making' scene but oh no, he is giving it all he's got. Jonathan is laying in my lap on the couch and he sits up and just looks at me for the longest time, not saying a word. Finally after about an hour of this scene, his dad says, 'poor girl' and I want to die again. All I can do now is just pray that this movie is ending and there will be no more talk of the boobies and the horizontal tango.
We get in the car to leave and I ask Jonathan why the cute looking at me during that scene. He replies with a chuckle, "I just get so embarrassed watching scenes like that with my parents." Yeah, me too.

I worked with one of the most beautiful girls that I have ever seen in my entire life at a makeup counter after college. She was from Romania with this beautiful long hair, thin body and huge boobs. She was perfect. Anywho. We became friends and started eating together at lunch. One day I was watching her chew her food-because even this was beautiful-and I noticed that she had a beautiful set of chompers. She reveals to me very secretivly that she has veneers on her top 8 teeth. Right then and there I decided that I too must have this perfect set of teeth. She precedes to tell me that it's only a meer $675 a tooth. Now, granted this was 6 years ago but still, that's hella expensive so I can only image what they are now. We get back to the counter and I call her dentist right away and schedule an appointment for the following week. It is a free consultation so what the heck?
A week later I drive the 30 minutes to his office and patiently wait for my consultation. I've done the math in my head (not really, it was on a calculator) and I've decided that I do not want to have more than 4 done because I don't need more than that and the total is $2700 plus tax and bleaching and anything else that the magic tooth dr wants to throw in.
I am led into this room and shown about 1000 pictures of folks with some nasty ass teeth before and then a Courtney Cox smile afterwards. I'm sold. I don't care if I have to pay on these forever, I'm getting a new smile. I ask the receptionist/picture showing lady named Nancy if I can do 4 teeth.
Nancy: "Ooooo, he normally does 6 to 8"
Me: "um, well, don't really want to do anymore than that" (because I make $9 an hour and drive an 88 truck)
Nancy: "we will just have to ask him"
Enter hottie dentist
Hottie: "hello amanda, lets see what we have here….(inspects teeth)….yeah, lets do 4" (and I piss myself) and let's get you started on the bleaching trays as well.
Rock on. So to make a long story short, it required 8 shots, a few hours worth of drilling, trying to answer questions without drooling all over yourself and one sore mouth. Hottie dentist gave me my 'temporary' teeth which were a little like those fake teeth that you wear for halloween and told me not to bite into anything for a month and then I could come back and get my 'real' ones. Exactly a month later, I was back in the chair and staring and my new teeth…in a velvet box. They were beautiful. Hottie put them on with tender loving care and off I went owing a little more than $3000 for this new me.
This obsession with teeth progressed from here. I would only use an electric toothbrush and I religiously flossed and brushed 2 times a day and also bleached my teeth for 4 hours every 6 months. To this day, I cannot even date anyone with bad teeth. It is the first thing that I look at and I know it sounds extremely shallow, but I will end the conversation for fear that my staring at a snaggle tooth will make me seem a little strange.

I worked in the cosmetic industry for 3 years until I got my 'grown up' job. To this day, I am constantly trying new things on myself and others…whether it be a new hair color or a new cut or maybe just some different lip gloss, I am always changing. In December, my best friend Belinda asked me if I would come to work at a counter at the local mall during Christmas. I excepted and I continue my dip into vanity once a month. It keeps me in stock with free makeup and skin care and my grueling 3 hour shift is worth it. Last night I was working and I looked a mess. Like I've explained before, it's hot and us fat folks tend to melt. My friend Arnone was standing behind the counter watching me walk up. At first she was excited to see me because she was hungry and I had food in hand for her. She snatched the polish sausage still warm in the plastic container and begin to stuff her face. I walked to the other side of the counter and looked in the mirror. Lord help us all. How in the world was I suppose to sell makeup looking a mess? To top things off, Arnone took one look at me after the eating of the sausage and began to speak in the total hatred that only a real friend can pull off.
Arnone: "Amanda, your roots are horrible. There is absolutely NO excuse for that. You do your own hair. What is the problem? Seriously, that is over an inch of out growth."
Me: "Whatever Arnone, it's only because it's up and I'm sweaty. When it's down it's not that bad".
Arnone: "Well, you're right. It's not that bad…no wait, I can't lie, yes it is bad".
Me: "I was going to do it this weekend but I didn't have time".
Arnone: "You should to it when you get home because really Amanda, no excuse."
This prompted my immediate text to my boyfriend proclaiming that although it's very sweet of him to have dinner ready when I get home that I will be making a trip to Kroger for some dang hair dye. He graciously said that he will pick some up when he goes there to get groceries. Okay, so this sounds like a bad idea to everyone at the counter but I don't care because I need pretty hair. I can't be white trash any longer walking around with the root action.
My boyfriend calls me from the hair dying isle. He's naming a million names and products and I tell him to just pick one. I'm immediately stopped by another coworker and advised to choose a dark brown. I relay the info to Jonathan, and he says okay.
I go home, eat, and change clothes because as my mom's witness, I get this dye everywhere. Jonathan, being the chemist, inspects each and every item in the box and begins explaining to me how to color my hair. Now, I've colored my hair every color of the rainbow every 6 weeks since I was in the 8th grade but never once has their been so many neato items in a hair color box.
Jonathan: "This little tube goes on pre color. It's to protect your hair."
Me: "is this necessary?"
Jonathan: "well, it's the first step, just do it".
So I put on the gloves and then the protectant. It smells good and makes my hair kinda oily. Whatever. Step one is complete.
The rest is history folks, I apply the color and it immediately starts to turn. Yes the package says to leave on for 30 minutes but I know I'm way wicked smarter than the hair color folks so I just leave it on for 10.
It was a good thing. I hop out of the shower, very excited to blow dry my new hair. What's this? It looks a little black. No worries, it's still wet. Okay, now it's blow dried, it's still black. Maybe it's the light. I walk in the living room and Jonathan is lying on the couch reading organic chemistry (for fun…how cute).
Me: "Yup, gonna need some highlights"
Jonathan : "wow!!!!!!!! It's dark, looks kinda gothic".
Nice. I go into the bathroom and whip up a concoction of hair bleach and shampoo and wash my hair about 300 times. I turn the water in the bathtub blue and black and I think I scared Jonathan a little. Long story short, the washing allows for my hair to be lighter and today I'm proud to say that I actually like it. I am my natural color and I haven't been since the 8th grade.
It's also funny how men and women react to changes in another's hair. Women either love it or hate it, men just state the obvious. Every male that I work with said "oh, you dyed your hair. It's brown. I like it". While my women coworkers exclaimed "oh my gosh! Do you like it?". I promised myself that I'm giving it 2 days. After that if I need some highlights, they are a going in, but for now, I will continue to startle myself when I look in the mirror.

This weekend was my 10 year high school reunion. It was quite possibly one of the coolest experiences of my life. And I mean that in a non 'My So Called Life' kinda way.
High school graduation was blah and we all couldn't can't wait to get to college and out in the 'real world' and leave all that little kid bull poo behind. I remember thinking that it was going to be 2006 before I saw some of the people that I had spent a good part of my life with (At least I learned some basic math-ha) and that night, it seemed like a million miles away.
When all of the talk about the reunion started a few months ago, I was reluctant to go because I pretty much hang out with all of the people that I care to see in present day time. Don't get me wrong, I like catching up with old friends, but not all at once. It gives me a headache. When my childhood friend Andrea called begging me to go, I respectfully declined. When letters about scrap books and updated info came to my mailbox, I threw them away…and on Friday as I sat at my desk waiting for the 5:00 hour, emails were pouring in about who was coming and who was not and still I wanted nothing to do with it. (I'm a bit of a hard head).
My brother in law-whom I hadn't seen in a while-was coming home this weekend and my boyfriend was making the journey to Hot Springs with me so I had 2 good reasons not to go. But then, I found out that the brother in law was only here for a few hours, and that the boyfriend actually wanted to go. Damn it.
I was kinda nervous at first because I wanted to be the girl with cute hair and fun accessories. I walked into the kitchen, asked my dad, 'if you hadn't seen me in 10 years, would you think I looked hot??' he said, 'well, you do look 10 years older'. Thanks Dad : ).
We get to the restaurant and as soon as I open the door, I'm greeted by old familiar faces with smiles and hugs to give out. It's a little cheesy at first but after a few beers, everyone had a blast. We laughed and brought up embarrassing stories about breaking car windows and not knowing that you are suppose to close the lid on a tanning bed. Old classmates introduced me to their husbands and wives and proudly showed pictures of the rugrats. It was nice to catch up and see folks that you had forgotten about and who had forgotten about you, and to see who put on a few pounds and who had thinning hair. I kept thinking about what I had said a year ago: 'if I have a kick ass job and a cute boy, then I'll go'. And while I did not think about this until after the reunion, this was not my concern anymore, while I do have a kick ass job and a super cute boy who I'm crazy about, it didn't matter. I got to be a kid again, surrounded by people who I grew up with. Only this time, we could have some beer : )

So it's hot in AR. When I say "hot" I mean, ouch-I can't-breathe-my-shoes-are- melting-why-do-I-have-to-put-on-clothes kinda hot. It's miserable. My 500 sq foot apartment used $63.45 worth of electricity last month and I'm not even home the hottest part of the day and diligently turn up the ac to 75 in hopes that I will not have a roasted cat when I get home. Anywho. You get my point.
Robin and I decided to go to Old Navy to pick up a baby present for our boss. She had brought pizza and we were shoving it on our faces like two fat kids with a gallon of chocolate ice cream and whipped frosting birthday cake. The funny part is, we both looked very hip and professional in our work attire and here we are, talking with our mouths full, crust flying everywhere. It was one of the funniest moments that I've experienced in a long time. It's good to have friends like that who you can be the fat kid with and not care that there is a huge piece of pepperoni in your bicuspid.
I also learned about a new button in my car on this trip. When I bought my Xterra, I read Consumer Reports and they stated that the 2 negative ratings were because of the wind noise (above 65 sounds like the window is cracked…a little annoying) and the air conditioner. Until our shoving- pizza-in-face lunch, I just thought that my air sucked because if Consumer Reports says its so, it must be. Since we are both melting and fighting over the middle vents, Robin pushes this button and suddenly, the air is at least 100 times cooler. I screech with excitement because I'm not a big fan of the sweating and she explains that this magic button takes the air already inside the vehicle and recools it, making the air feel like it's an artic blast. Then, my brilliant friend, precedes to give me the "oh, you're a dumbass" look for not knowing this. So here's the point of this rambling, friends who can shove food in their face quick like a bunny and who can tell you that you are retarded for not knowing about the max ac button, are a rare find.

I just bitched at Robin yesterday saying that there was no such thing as writer's block and that when she writes that she should just spill it all out because editors edit and writers write…and now I'm eating my words. I'm trying to be dilligent and write every other day or so but for some reason, I don't have clue what to write about today and we just went to make our go go juice and she told me that there is a link on her site to mine so BALLS! I really do have to write something. (my freak out here)
I'm jealous that I have no super amusing stories like some folks. My life right now is very good…probably the best that it has been in a long time…and it has to do with the fact that I'm content. That is a huge place to be. I mean to say that one is happy with every aspect of life is like saying that every day is free icecream! I am usually a spaz and totally nerotic. Lately, I haven't been. I think it has to do with that not only am I happy, but that I'm discovering parts of me that I didn't know existed. For instance, I am well known for being a little bit of a jokester when the moment calls for seriousness. I am a smart ass everytime a serious subject comes up or I'm the giggling nut at a funeral and the chick at the wedding who isn't crying but secretly hopes that someone will trip and fall down the isle because, lets all face it, that's be fabulous, or when what you are saying sounds like freaking "blah blah blah" to me and I want to punch you in the face, but I refrain and resort to sarcasm.
Anywho, now I'm that girl who likes to hear sweet things from the boyfriend and likes to have him cook for her and it be ready when she gets home and who giggles a bit when a kiss is made on the cheek in front of company and more disturbingly, is fully sweet right back after these gesters and sarcasm is left at the door…at least for a little bit. : )
The thing is, he TOTALLY appreciates the sarcasm but I know that he thinks it's extra cool when I respond like a normal sweet young lady. What have I become? A mushy girl? I refuse to be dubbed that. My brilliant friends say that this has always been me but that I never embrased it. Even my coworker Ryan just moments ago as I gripped that I had become 'that girl' said, "well, it must not bother you because you aren't doing anything about it" and looked at me very yoda-ish like he had just made a speech that shook the nations. As much as I hate to admit it, this is me…and secretly, I kinda like it.