3 Floyds and Disney World

 Hello,

I really hate that I cannot keep up with this thing.  I dissapoint myself when I come back and notice I haven't updated in over a month. I decided that today I would temporarily neglect the piles of files on my desk to get an update in.  Before we left for Orlando, we took a trip over to Munster, Indiana to visit what in Ben's mind, is heaven, 3 Floyds brewery.  For those of you who read my previous blogs (bless your hearts) you know that I do not like crafted beers. I prefer light 'piss beer' as beer connoisseur's would call it. Beers like Select 55 and Michelob Ultra, you know anything light and watery that my weak stomach can handle large liquidy portions of.  My first beer was a Gumballhead, a golden, 5.5% ABV, wheat ale that I actually enjoy.  Floyds has a great menu, consisting from fennel, schnizels, and basic sandwhiches. I got a grilled chicken sandwhich with their homemade horseradish mayo for dipping, and I've been craving another one since we left. I normally do not like horseradish or anything with horseradish in it, but this stuff was amazing. I'm sure it's a very simple recipe, but it's good enough to eat on sandwhiches and fries, and that's what matters. My second beer was some kind of Japanese rice beer that I cannot remember the name of, but it wasn't one of Floyds beers, it was just one they carry.  That one was pretty gross, and I had a hard time getting it down.  I was also extremely full at that point, and pretty lit from the first beer.  I am a puss, I know. Ben drank a Dreadnaught, a verrry hoppy ale, with a 9.5% ABV and a Ham on Rye, which literally tastes like a smoked ham sandwhich. I even liked this one!

After we ate, we went to see the tour of the brewery.  It was more of a Floyds history lesson since there wasn't a whole lot of 'touring', but it was fun nonetheless. I posted the pictures of it below. Every year Floyds has a Darklord Day where they only sell their famous Darklord Beer that one day.  By some stroke of luck (6000 tickets sold out in 3 minutes) Ben and I got 2 tickets and are attending Darklord Fest at the end of the month.  I'm pretty pumped.  We went last year (when they didn't provide tickets--obviously not expecting the turn out) and got there at 9 in the morning and the place was PACKED shoulder to shoulder. When I say place, I actually mean 3 streets worth of people as the fest is obviously outside. People were throwing up in the streets already, sleeping on the sidewalk, it was pure chaos. It was pretty stupid because of that last year actually, so we left empty handed.  This year, they have time slots for groups of people to go and get their bottles of Darklord and we got the 5-7pm time slot.  This year it should be more enjoyable because we will actually be able to go and taste beers and have a good time (I hope).  Ben is brewing a batch of his own beer right now, a Boysenberry IPA, so I'm rooting for him since he's a rookie, that it turns out good. 



You can read more on it at http://www.3floyds.com/. I'm not sure if you can actually purchase their beer online, but if your interested, I'm sure it's possible.  Needless to say, we got home that afternoon and took nice long naps.

So, the night before we left for Disney, I wanted to be in bed AND sleeping by no later than 9 pm seeing as though we had be up at 3:15 to get to the airport.  I tend to get cranky when I don't get my sleep, and we weren't just landing in Florida and going to the room to take a nap before venturing out into the World of Disney, we were landing, dropping our stuff off and starting the day. So I drank a few beers, popped a sleeping pill and dozed off shortly after.  Ben came to bed about an hour later and of course I woke up. I hadn't been asleep more then 20 minutes probably, if that. So he passed right out, and I was now wide awake.  Long story short, I watched Pee-Wee's Big Adventure twice before I put Beetlejuice in the dvd player, cryed like a baby for a few minutes out of frustration from lack of sleep, and ended up falling back asleep at 2:30am.  So, 3:15 rolls around and I'm back awake, tired, and extremely irritated. I would have been ok with even 4 hours, but roughly 1 hour of sleep? Come on.  This was also my first plane ride, and I was terrified.  So we get to the airport, check our luggage and go get some hot dogs in the food court. Finally when our flight is called, I notice that Southwest is loading people on the plane in groups.  Our tickets were group C35 or some shit. In other words, Ben and I were two of the last people on the plane and Southwest is also open seating in rows of 2, seats of 3.  So of course, to make this morning even better, much to my disbelief, Ben and I are separeted on the plane. I'm stuck in the front between two black people, and Ben is way in the back. Not to mention, the dumb bitch who had the window seat had her window closed, and was casually napping on it with her leopard print pillow. She had a Steve Harvey book open in front of her that she would periodically open one eye and glance at for a few minutes.  The seats were tiny and if I ever so slightly brushed this woman's arm or something, she would slowly turn and stare at the spot like I just poked her with a cattle prod, which at that point, I would have LOVED to do.  Like I said, I'd never been on a plane so I at least wanted to sit by Ben to have someone to talk too, or AT LEAST get to look out a window, but instead I got stuck in between Tokin and Rawanda who was SLEEPING on the window. BITCH! Thankfully, the ride was 40 minutes early and we were off the plane in 2 hours. I kept myself busy by playing Nintendo DS and thinking happy thoughts.

We got to the hotel once we landed in Orlando and got ready to go out. At this point, I was more awake and excited.  For some reason they gave us a double bedded room, so we compromised...

We started our trip with visit to the Magic Kingdom...

Unforunately this work day is now over and I will have to continue this, I WILL get more pictures up asap...

To be continued...



So I've started tanning this week, and by tanning I mean really tanning, or as some people call it, fake baking. It occured to me that spray tanning was not going to get my skin ready for the raging sun in the Sunshine State of Florida.  I am a naturally pale Irish girl, and taking me from a cold winter inside the house to a week filled of outside activities in Disney World, will fry me like a lobster.

Last summer, our friends Paul, Natalie, and Ben and I went to Turkey Run State Park in at a hotel called the Billie Creek Inn, in good old Indianer for a weekend.  The first day we drank ourselves into oblivion and ran wild outside the hotel, literally. As you can see from the picture, there was plenty of room for us to do so. After a long day in the pool, we were throwing a light up frisbee acting like assholes in front of my little brothers and the neighbor kids.  My parents and the neighbor parents were sloshing it up at the pool, double fisting Miller Lights and what not until wee hours of the night. It was a good time. The next day, the four of us decided it would be a good idea to go tubing for 3 hours in the river.  Turkey Run provided large blue tubes and give you a start point and an end point.  I believe it was only 5 miles, so we figured it wouldn't be that long.  They loaded us up on a couple of busses and shipped us down to shore to see us off.  Before letting us off, the hippie that was driving starting giving us the rules and badgering us drunks about drinking in the river. "There are conservation police all over these trees, scoping you out with binoculars, so all you underagers, don't drink--but since I know you are going to anyway, try to keep them in coozies or don't do anything stupid to draw attention to yourselves. You are going approximately 5 miles, which will take roughly 2 1/2 hours.' AH! We all exchanged glances...2 1/2 hours? I guess that makes sense since we'd be floating roughly 1.5 miles per hour. I figured an hour tops, and my dumb pale ass had forgotten the sunscreen. That being said, we unloaded and hopped into the river. About 3 hours later we got out at the end point, tired, starving, burnt and angry.  I was under the impression that floating down a river would be relaxing, and it was, for the first hour. After the second hour, you're very much ready to get out. I swear I could literally hear my skin sizzling after that second hour too.  There are a few brief moments of shade during the float, but nothing that will really help.  We left Turkey Run shortly after that, grabbed some quick Burger King and headed home.

About 30 minutes into the ride I started getting 'cramps'.  A day in the hot sun, followed by a greasy BK lunch was not something my body was prepared for.  A case of the 'D' word fell upon me rather quickly and we were forced to stop in a teeny town along the way so I could use the teeny bathroom. I was rather embarrassed.  Do you ever get those cramps? They are HORRIBLE...and they come in waves. They go away after you relieve yourself, and then come back full force 20 minutes later until there's nothing left.  You're literally forcing nothing after so long. I don't get it.  From what I remember correctly, I did make it home ok. When we got back to town it was rainy and chilly out, which was a strange change of events considering it was warm and sunny just 2 hours ago when we left Turkey Run.  We both got home and examined our charred bodies in the mirror.  By no means whatsoever am I exaggerating or lying when I say that we were both as red as fire trucks. Ben tans easier then I do, so naturally I was almost more purple then red.  Since we'd been sitting in tubes all day, there was a very awkward white crease across my stomach, as well as some other inconvenient white patches amongst my Jet Puffed Marshmellowman body. We both scrambled for the aloe and started generously bathing ourselves in it.  It was horrible.  The streaks didn't go away for at least a month. It was very attractive.

 

Hello World

I have gone quite a lengthy amount of time here with no post. I simply haven't had the inspiration lately.  I find myself at work being a slave to the countless e-mails I get each day and long droning phone calls from whiners for 8 hours, that I swear I hear them in my sleep at night. I guess that's why I have a job though, is to WORK, so I can't complain, but that's why I haven't been posting.  I've often thought about how nice it would be to sit at home all day and play video games, but honestly, I'd be so bored. On those particular weekends when there isn't much going on, I find myself wanting to aimlessly spend money, or bake fattening cookies to discourage my weight loss plan.  That's still going good I guess. I'm still at my 27 pound plateau though which is really bothering me. I still work out. I've been trying to switch up my normal cardio and light weight routine, into more heavy lifting and Pilate's exercises. The places I want to lose the most weight are my lower abs (what woman doesn't?), and my arms. We are going to Florida on April 2nd for a week and haven't looked good in a bathing suit in 5 years. How I long to step outside in a bikini with confidence instead of wishing I could shrivel into a tiny raisin and dissapear. I definitely look better then I did last summer. My waist has shrunk significantly, but I still have a month and a half to shrink my beer gut more, so I'm ready. Once I take some pictures in Florida, I'll post a few maybe. We'll see how they turn out.

I've taken on a new obbsession with spray tanning lately. In my personal opinion, it's definitely a better alternative to tanning in a bed.  It's more expensive, but I think it's more beneficial. It takes up less time, is obviously better for your skin, and looks natural without all the burning and radiation.  A new spa and salon opened up 2 blocks from my house and they offer the spray tanning services.  You tell them which shade you would like (light, medium, dark) and they put the cartridge inside the booth. Once the booth has warmed up, you step inside in your birthday suit.  There are numbers on the floor of the booth, and the booth's woman voice will tell you when you need to rotate, and where to put your feet. I will admit, I felt pretty silly the first time I went...like I was being taught how to dance by a robot voice in a booth while I got sprayed from head to toe with a brown mist that smelled like Chinese food....but you're only in the booth a total of 3 minutes so it's overwith before you know it.  Once you get past the mild humiliation, it's actually pretty relaxing. Surprisingly, it really does look natural too. It doesn't streak and is not orangy at all. It usually rubs off after 3-4 days, which is the only downside, but I still like it. You can't really beat $60 a month for unlimited sprays considering it's $25 bucks a session normally. I go probably 3 times a week, so you can do the math there.

So, I was at Wal-mart over the past weekend, the day before Valentines day, and you'd think it was Christmas. I was trying to buy groceries and people were running into me, pratically mowing me over to get to the Baked Lays...wtf was going on here? Come to think of it, I was actually in Wal-mart around Christmas time and it wasn't even as bad.  People were practically falling over each other in the 'featured aisle' section trying to get heart shaped boxes of chocolates and cheap stuffed bears. You know, the 4 seasonal aisles that are usually conveniently placed right in front of the entrance? I decided I would take a gander, because I wanted to get Ben one of those little hand held back massagers that look like spaceships. I walked down one aisle and there was a Mexican family of 9 hanging out in he middle of the aisle. The parents were standing staring off into space awkwardly while their 7 kids or whatever ran about the aisle, poking and slapping things.  I quickly backed the cart out of that mess and tried the next one. There were two woman standing there, and a pole with a phone on it.  On the right of the pole it was clear, but too small for my cart to fit. On the left side of the pole, was the two women who acted like I wasn't there and giggled to each other about something. I waited patiently, finally said excuse me, and they continued to ignore me. Why are people so rude? Get the fuck out of the way! Had I been anymore pissed off then I was at the current time, I probably would have pushed my way through, but at this point, I was relatively calm since I had just gotten there, and just sighed loudly and left the aisle.

Later, I was done with the grocery portion of my shopping and decided I would look for the massager again. I saw a group of Wal-mart creatures standing in the middle of the walking path, chatting loudly, so I walked up and waited for an opportunity to interrupt. I was starting to get the feeling that I was invisible because the idiots just stood there and continued talking even though I was standing there staring at them.  Finally I said loudly, "DO YOU GUYS CARRY THOSE LITTLE VIBRATING BACK MASSAGERS?' One of the woman said, "Probably in pharmacy--So anyway..." She continued talking to her friend/co-worker.  As I walked away I said, "Thanks I guess and excuse me for interrupting your conversation!" Bitches. I felt like I was in one of those videos that they make new employees watch..."...And this is how you NEVER treat a guest here at Wal-Mart!' Cut to the scene of me being ignored and walking away frustrated with fruity 80's music in the background. So I wandered down to pharmacy, only to find that no such thing existed in pharmacy. Those damned assholes.

Once I got out of that hell hole, my next mission was to find a deshedding tool for the furry kids. Poster sheds like a sonofabitch and regular brushes just don't cut it because he gets knotty and matted with his long ridiculous fur.  The only ones I could find were $40!!!!! These things are seriously no bigger than a Bic razor.  I searched EVERYWHERE for this thing and couldn't find one for under $25 bucks, so I ultimately ended up buying one of Ebay for $10.  I also bought 16" brown and blond extensions that I should be getting at the beginning of March.  I'm excited.  My hair has grown 4 inches since October since I started taking Biotin for hair and nail growth.  Anyone trying to grow their hair out, I would HIGHLY recommend taking it.

Well I'm out, 'til next time:)  While your waiting, check out these websites I love:

http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

http://www.damnyouautocorrect.com/

One of my babies, Poster Nutbag.

Christmas and Chick-Fil-A

I feel that this year I had a way more successful Christmas than last year.  I had more money this year, which equals more Christmas presents for the man and family.  Last year I was pretty much broke and wound up getting everyone $20 gift cards. By everyone, I mean Ben's mom, Ben's sister, and got my parents a gift card for Red Lobster. I had to go halves with Ben's mom on a PS3 for Ben, which wasn't an easy task.  I wanted to put it on layaway so that I could make payments on it since my life revolves around making payments to everything, but the only store that offered layaway was K-mart, and they were permanently sold out of PS3s for eternity I guess.  Eventually, I got one from Best Buy and all was good. I decided to get him the PS3 because he deserved it. He's taken me to countless nice dinners, on vacations, it was the least I could do.

This year was much better. I was able to get my parents gifts that I was genuinely proud of...mostly the 2 foot long Abbey Road street sign that I got my dad for his man cave. I went to great lengths to obtain that sign.

About a month back or so, 3 weeks, whatever, I ordered what I thought would be an 18", metal, road sign off of Amazon.  I waited roughly 2 weeks for this and received it 3 days before Christmas.  As those 2 weeks were passing, I kept pulling up after work waiting to see a elongated package waiting gleefully for me on the front porch, but I never saw it. Finally one day, I open the mail box and pull a 12" envelope out of the mailbox.  It was flimsy and bendable and much to my dismay, when I opened it, I pulled out what looked to be an Abbey Road bumper sticker. I was livid. I stormed into the house, whipping the 'sign' about and having a tantrum. I just kept looking at it like it was magically going to grow into the sign I'd imagined, but alas, it did not. Then I just started laughing.  I laughed for a good 9 minutes, just looking from the 'sign' to Ben, Ben to the 'sign'.  Finally Ben says to me, "Why don't you just return it?"  Of course, this thought did occur to me, but what's the point? So we hung it above our living room doorway. Our house is not the typical Pier 1 Imports decorative display, but rather a colorful little thing full of blues and oranges and Grateful Dead, John Lennon and Phish art work and posters hanging everywhere.  We agreed upon moving that our house was to look more like a museum of music rather than a Martha Stuart 'Living' magazine cover. Screw that. It's our first house, we want it to be original.

So after making peace with the whole ordeal, I came to the disheartening conclusion that the only way out of it was to drive 40 minutes North to a hell hole called Orland Park, Illinois.  Orland Park mall was the only mall in the tri-county area that had a store that sold the actual sign I was looking for.  I hate Orland so much...that's why I decided that buying it off Amazon and paying extra for shipping and handling would be worth not having to drive there. I'm thinking this was more the reason behind my tantrum in the first place than the $14 dollars I spent on the thing. You'd think that $14 dollars would have been a good clue that I was being ripped off, but did I check? Nope, I'm an asshole. So, after work one day, I sucked it up and started on my journey to Orland.  I had listened to a co-worker on how to get to Orland 'quicker', so I got off the exit she suggested.  As soon as I get off the exit, I am stuck in dead stop traffic, and still roughly 20 minutes away from the mall.  Immediately regretting my decision, the road rage starts to set in. Naturally, the whore in front of me wants to slam on her breaks as much as possible which is only increasing my hatred for Orland more and more. I finally turn onto the road the mall is on, and wouldn't ya know it, I get stuck in another bout of dead stop traffic.  Finally, after nearly an hour (this trip should not have taken me more than 25 minutes), I arrive at the mall and start looking for a spot.  As I suspected, there weren't any, so I found myself having to park at the veeerry end of the lot, literally 2 spots away from the road.  So I practically jog inside as I'm trying my darnedest to get in and out of there as quickly as possible, and luckily the store I needed to go too was directly across the particular entrance of the hell hole I'd entered.  I power walk furiously into the store, grab the sign, and get into the check out. As I'm exiting Hell, people are just mindlessly slamming into me like I'm not even there, emo kids are hanging out doing emo things, it was a mess. I think I had a mild panic attack trying to get out of there. Once I got outside, it occurred to me that my car was so far away that I risked being stabbed or mugged on the way back to my car, so started running...I must've looked like such an idiot, but I didn't care. I had gray sweatpants on, black boots that Ben calls my 'pirate boots' that kept bunching up at my ankles, a dirty white coat with fingertipless gloves. I'm pretty sure I probably looked like a bag lady who had just robbed someone and was on my way back to my bridge or shopping cart or whatever bag ladies live in. I let out a huge sigh of relief once I finally planted my ass back in my car.  Just when I'm home free and attempting to exit the mall's enormous retarded lot, I accidentally wind up in the one exit that only goes one way, which of course, was the opposite way of where I had to go.  Eventually I turned around and wound up in the Chick-Fil-A drive thru to pick up a bag of fried cholesterol for Ben and I for dinner.  I don't get it people, what's the deal with this Chick-Fil-A hype?  I had a deluxe chicken sandwich, which is a basic sandwich, they just added cheese, and it tasted no different to me than any other fast food chicken sandwich with cheese.  The Polynesian sauce that everyone raves about is nothing more then Burger King's sweet and sour. Seriously.  Try them both, prove me wrong.

By the way, once I got home, I took a picture to compare both signs...the top one is obviously the wrong one!

Until next time...

"Here at Globo Gym we're better than you, and we know it"

So I started going to the gym in the mornings now instead of the afternoon.  I find that going after work is such a pain in the ass after a long day in the office.  All I want to do when I get off is go home, put on my pajamas, most likely do a pile of dishes, and then cuddle up on the couch with my cats, is that so wrong?  Plus when I go in the morning, it helps wake me up, gives me the incentive to go to bed earlier, and quite frankly I just like it better.  The gym is much less crowded in the morning too.

The only problem I have with my morning gym routine is the town gossipers that invade the place every morning.  Several elderly women, a middle aged woman who looks like Carrie Fisher circa 1991 who is a complete nutcase, and a few elderly men.  I have become quite accustom to this morning crowd, and learned to drown out their constant rants with my Ipod.  I believe that "Carrie" is an obsessive compulsive exerciser.  She is there every morning when I get there at 7:50, already drenched in sweat, and vigorously power walking at an alarming rate of speed.  After about 20 minutes she gets off, puts her foot weights on, and starts pumping iron.  She's quite a gangly one.  There's no depth or definition in her muscles as far as I can see, it's quite strange. You'd think from all that iron pumping and dynamic cardio she'd be ripped like a washboard but she isn't.  Her and one of the elderly men are constantly yapping during their workouts. I heard her one day (over my Ipod I might add) telling him, "Yeah! Can you believe it! My daughter goes away to college and suddenly wants to be in a Jewish sorority house! I'll tell you what!..." Of course, this only led to a heated debate over religion and discipline.  All the other old woman chime in, "Well in MY day!..." All the while, these screech monkeys are taking up all the treadmills, squawking back and forth to each other. Defeated by the unusual onslaught of old people every morning, I am forced to use the ellipticals.

Yesterday morning, I was doing one of my normal routines, starting on the elliptical, moving to the stair stepper, and onto the arm presses.  There was an abnormality in the gym yesterday morning, as there was a new guy there. He was roughly 5' foot tall, resembling that of a pinched off loaf, sporting a sleeveless tee, black gym shorts, work boots, glasses, and a large back support belt.  He wandering from machine to machine holding an 'O-Men' magazine and grinning strangely at everyone who would go within a 5 foot radius of him.  Since he seemingly was guarding all of the arm presses, I went to the ab machine. As I'm using the machine behind him, enjoying some Primus on my Ipod, he's using one of the 3 arm presses (sorry, I do not know any of the actual titles of these machines, forgive me).  The one he was using is the one where you sit down, and push the handles forward. For some reason, he decides to dramatically let go of the handles.  I guess he was done using them and wanted everyone to know.  The 7003849 pounds he was pressing went crashing to the floor with a deafening clang.  Like I said, I had Primus blaring my ears, so the sound was considerably muffled, but it was definitely loud enough to scare the bejesus outta all the old folk on the row on treadmills. Quite startled, they all stopped squawking long enough to turn around and gape at him awkwardly for a few seconds before resuming to their gossiping. He got up and went stomping around the gym like an incredible asshole, checked himself out in the mirror and started working on another machine that was too close to me for comfort.  I got up and started on one of the arm machines, that was next to the previous one he'd just been using.  Not only did he not wipe down the machine he was sweating all over, but he left his O-Men magazine laying in front of the machine, displaying a whole 2 pages of lubed up steroid ragers like himself.  I had not even gotten one lift in (this was the one you push upwards), and he was already careening around the corner from the back of the gym and walking right up to me.  I quickly looked at the floor and pretended I didn't see him coming, but he just stood there. I finally looked up at him, Primus still blasting, and he said to me, "Let me know when you are done with that"...I read his steroid lips, but I knew he what he said.  What the hell man?  This is not your personal gym where you can leave your secretly gay magazines laying all over and question people trying to use the machines you may potentially want to use in the future. You also aren't wiping the steroid sweat off the machines! I was pissed. I pulled out my earbud and said, "Why don't you wipe the other machine down first and we'll see."  Which is what I should have actually said, but what I really said was, "Yep."  I didn't tell him though. I just got up and left. That'll show him.

Current weight loss: Fluxuating between 23/26

Pant size dropped: 2

New Goal: Drop 20-25 more pounds by the time we go to Florida, March 19.

Random Topics

Random 1:

On the Surf Report the other day someone had referenced Jillian Michaels, and it got me going.  I used to somewhat like Jillian when I started watching The Biggest Loser last season. I breifly idolized her intensity and passion she threw at you to achieve your goals.  I wanted to stress 'briefly'.  After purchasing Jillians book "Making the Cut" last year, I learned very quickly, that Jillian Michaels not only looks and talks like a transvestite, but that her ways of losing weight require you to be some kind of millionare chef of somesort.  After reading the $400 grocery list, and the fact that Jillian emphasizes that you cannot drink, I retired the book into the cabinet never to be seen again.  How dare her. How dare Jillian Michaels tell me I cannot drink. There is a part in the introduction of her book where she says, "BUT, if you have to have alcohol," I picture her rolling her eyes in disgust here like we are all scumbag alcoholics, "You are limited to 2 small glasses of vodka and some diet soda."  Did it ever occur to Jillian Michaels that not all people are fans of vodka?  I hate vodka.  I have always hated vodka.  After watching her videos and partially reading her useless book I've really come to hate her actually. I just really despise that manly attitude.  I understand your body is ripped like Schwarzenegger's mutant offspring, but why the man voice and mannerisms.  For God's sake Jillian Michaels, get the celery stick out of your ass, paint your nails, eat a McNugget and drink a goddamned beer. Live a little.

Random 2:

Lately I've been seeing a lot of nonsense on the news about opting out of being checked at flight security next Wednesday for Thanksgiving flyers.  That was pretty much the icing on the cake for me.  I don't need anything else to convince me that people are getting stupider and stupider. WHY the hell would you be trying to convince people that opting out of security is a good idea? You're really more worried about a security guard 'touching you' and taking a full body scan of you, then dying in a firey crash on a plane because some asshole suicide bomber wants to blow you up? Good God people, really?!  Are you really that stupid, or are you just that hell bent on making some kind of retarded statement?  Has anyone noticed lately all the potential bomb threats we've had lately? Oh, and 9/11? If I was going on a plane where half the passenger opted out of security, I'd be pretty goddammed scared. You don't think that there aren't some bombers out there watching the TV shitting themselves with glee and hopping online to buy plane tickets?  It just really burns me.  My opinion is, if you're going to get some stuffy assmunch that's not going to be willing to be checked, that guy can stay the hell of the plane and eat his Thanksgiving dinner in the airport lobby with the rest of his asshole friends. I just picture some fat idiot, bustling through the airport, red faced and sweating, stopping at the security line, then screaming profanity at the security guards because he's afraid someone is going to fondle his frontal ass. If I had a frontal ass, I would gladly let someone touch it if it meant saving my life.  People just baffle me.

I will be back Monday most likely. Feel free to add your opinion, I'm curious what other people think about the plane thing.

Byebye,
Britt

Andy

A few posts ago, and about 4 months ago, Ben and I brought home a new kitty whom I named Andy. The name was thought up when Ben and I had gone to see Toy Story 3 and I loved the idea of naming a baby girl Andy despite the gender.  Toy Story movies have always been classics, and the name stuck with me.  The lady, Karen, that we bought Andy from, explained to us that Andy (or Daisy they called her) was the only girl in the litter, and quite a pretty baby! she exasperatedly added.

We brought Andy home and introduced her to our other handsome furry forest cat, Poster. Poster did not take to Andy...in fact, Poster would not come into a room if Andy was in it. I took this picture from the couch one afternoon while Andy was napping in my lap, and Poster was watching and sulking in the other room. I was especially intrigued by the glowing eyes reflecting into the floor.

Eventually Poster and Andy became friends and were two peas in a pod, but it was time for Andy to be taking to the dreaded vet. I brought her there and set the carrier on the counter.  The girl at the counter questioned me several times on the name..."So this is a male..."

"No, it's a female"

"A female named Andy?"

Now becoming slightly offended, I reply, "Yes."

She looks at me, confused, "Andy...this is a female?"

Now annoyed, "Yes. I named my female kitten Andy."

"OK."

So she takes Andy away. I finally left practically crying because I'm such a baby seeing my child be scared (I don't have kids, my pets are my kids), and went to work. An hour later I receive a call from the vet's office. I answer nervously, contemplating something horrible, but instead she says, "When you came in this morning, you told us Andy was a girl correct?"

"Yes, why what happen to her?"

"Well...I don't know how to tell you this but your Andy is actually a little boy..."

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, he has testicles...so we are actually going to neuter him...but at least you don't have to change the name!!!"

I was floored.  I realize this may sound silly to some people, but it completely blew my mind to find out that our 'little girl' was actually a little boy. We'd been referring to him as 'Poster's little girlfriend' and 'our little girl' and laughing about how Poster will probably be humping her soon. We got a good laugh about that.

Well I am going to watch some Ghost Adventures and go to bed.

Goodnight friends:D