Friday, February 26, 2010

Well, they both begin with a C . . .

My sister Erin watches kids in her home during the day. I go to her house for lunch every once in a while and my mom and sister Tammy help Erin out sometimes by going over and watching the kids so that Erin can do things like attend her daughters' school parties or go read stories to their classes, etc. So we know all the kids by name and all the kids know us by name. That's important to remember - got it?

One of the kids Erin watches regularly is a little boy named Cade. He's a sweet little guy who's been around a while and we all know him. By name. Cade. Got it? Erin told me that yesterday my mom came over to pick my niece Avery up for school and, as she walked in the door, she looked at Cade and said cheerfully: "Well good morning, Chadwick!"

Close enough, Nora. Close enough.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

O Canada . . .

There's been a lot of talk by Olympic commentators about the new Canadian speed skating uniforms. Apparently, they are an engineering phenomenon and are the most aerodynamic uniforms ever. But, seriously . . . who the heck designed these things??

I'm sure they're aerodynamic. I'm sure they're scientifically ground-breaking. But they make the athletes look like speed skating scares the crap out of them . . . literally.

So someone needs to find out who designed them. Who said "We need more than just a maple leaf. We need to think ootside the box. We should go edgy. We should put a black stain on the back of the uniform that starts JUST under the butt and kinda blobs downward. Then we should smear the edges of the blob to give it that natural look. Think 'fecal explosion.'"?

The number of people who had to approve this design for their national Olympic team is mind-boggling.

O Canada . . . what were you thinking?

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Solving my dough-lema.

I left a can of crescent rolls out overnight recently and was so frustrated when I woke up the next morning ready to bake a dessert with them and realized what I had done. I really didn't have time to run up to the store so I wondered if it would be okay to still use them. I figured the answer would be a resounding NO but I decided to google it, just on the off-chance that it would save me a trip to Kroger's. I know that's lazy but it was worth a shot.

I typed in my query and got lots of results but most of them required me to read articles about germs (which should have been answer enough for me . . .) but, again, I was being lazy and didn't really want to "read" or "educate myself" or "actually put much effort into finding out the answer." One of the search results was one of those websites where you ask a question and a bunch of regular people get on and answer you by telling you what they think or what they've read or what their cousin's friend's daughter told them. I wasn't sure it would really help me to answer the question definitively but I decided to give it a try so I clicked on it. Someone had asked if she could use cookie dough that had been left out overnight and a few folks had given their opinions. I thought I'd share them with you, along with the thoughts that ran through my head as I read them . . .

Question: Can you use cookie dough that has been left out overnight?


"Why did you leave it out all night? I wouldn't try it...I wouldn't eat anything like that if it was out all night."

Geez - what's with the judgmental tone? She didn't leave it out ON PURPOSE, for goodness sake. She's already lost her cookie dough . . . do you have to take her pride, too?

* * * * *

"Of cource mmmmmmmmmm ;)"

Did she spell it "cource?" Did she? Is that what I saw? Just tell me. I can't open my eyes . . .

* * * * *

"yes you can use it and the reason why is so simple , as you usualy cook thes at a high heat and you cook them thouraly , theres no problem with bacteria such as salmonella as the bacteria will be killed off so bake and enjoy them i have a diploma in food hygene and safety so do know what i am talking about and salmonella is not a pathogen and as such will not form a shell around itself to protect it from heat or cold"

Wait. Let me check something . . . yep - my eyes are bleeding. I'm guessing spelling and punctuation were not an integral part of your studies? Honestly, people - I don't care if you're a good speller or not, you should be able to properly spell the name of any subject you have a degree in.

* * * * *

"Ask yourself if a batch of cookie dough is worth risking your health, and the health of any friends or family members that would be eating the cookies."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII don't think I'm going to answer this question the way you're intending me to . . .

So, as I expected, the website didn't really help me to definitively answer the question. But, just to be safe, I did throw the dough out.

Because I'm thouraly hygenic . . .

Monday, February 22, 2010

You have a little something on your chin . . .

When you have 10 hours of Olympics to watch everyday, you have to be pretty picky about which events you watch and which ones you fast forward through. I usually just watch the fast-paced events where there are more possibilities of seeing someone fall.

Don't judge me - you like watching people fall, too.

One of the events I never watch is the Biathlon. In fact, I usually make fun of it. I say SUPER clever things like "Biathlon? How 'bout BiathNO." and then I fast forward through it. I mean, I just don't get the appeal of watching a bunch of people ski and shoot. Who came up with that idea? It's like some redneck went to Colorado to ski and said "Well, I have to admit that this skiing thing is pretty fun. But what if I run into a deer while I'm out there?" I just don't get it.

I had heard that America has never won a medal in the Biathlon so, instead of fast forwarding, I decided to watch a few minutes of it the other day just to see what it was all about. And, surprisingly, I found myself quickly sucked in. I winced when they missed their shots and shrugged my shoulders in rhythm with their strides as they skied uphill. I don't know why my shoulders were getting involved in the action, but they were. By the end of the race, I was an admirer of the Biathlon and decided that it was pretty entertaining to watch.

But I can never watch it again. Why? Because these men let drool and snot drip down their faces throughout the entire race and it's disgusting . . .

Seriously? When you win the Silver medal with a foamy saliva goatee, your accomplishment is somewhat diminished, don't you think?

So come on, people - slurp it up.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

I'mnotreadyi'mnotreadyi'mnotready . . .

I like when I find Olympians I can relate to. Like this luger as he was about to push himself out onto the luge course:

Because that's TOTALLY how I would look . . .

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Triple Sow Co-- what was THAT??

I told you yesterday that I love the Olympics. Like in a ridiculous way. And I'm recording it which means that I have 10 hours worth of Olympics to watch every night when I get home. I'm going to have to quit my job so that I can keep up with it all . . .

Last night I watched the pairs figure skating, which has always been a favorite of mine. I sat down with my Diet Dr. Pepper and got comfy in my chair, ready to pretend that I know the difference between a triple sow cow and a double axle, and watched them skate. And fall. And spin. And fall. And fly through the air. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand fall.

What the heck?? I mean, did they not KNOW they were going to have to do jumps? Did their coaches forget to tell them this was the FREAKING OLYMPICS??

And what really got me was when the couples were about to do their big jumps, the announcers would say things like "And here come their side-by-side jumps. This is her weakness." What? How is the jumping your weakness when you're in the Olympics? Seems like the "jumping" part should really set you apart from people like me. Isn't that really what "figure skating" is? I mean, without the jumps, aren't you just skating around the rink down at the Galleria? That just doesn't make sense to me.

And don't you wonder what's going through their partners' minds when they fall? Like when the girl sticks her landing and she looks back and sees the guy on his butt mid spin cycle, does she think "Oh no - I hope he's okay!" or does she think "You stupid son of a -." And it's really awkward when the girl falls after the guy throws her into the air because that move is usually done at a dramatic moment in the music. The music swells poignantly, the guy throws his partner in the air, and then immediately chases after her with arms outstretched and the dramatic look of a torn and desperate lover on his face. So when the girl falls at that point, I always wonder how the guy manages to stay in character. Because you KNOW that he's really thinking "Oh . . . come . . . OOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!! ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME???" But somehow he manages to keep the dramatic look on his face and keeps on skating as if nothing ever happened.

Honestly, if it were me out there, I would absolutely lose it. I would burst into tears and skate off the rink blubbering. They'd be talking about my performance and wondering where I had gone and then they'd see me in the stands running to my mommy. And then I'd curl up into the fetal position in her lap and start sucking my thumb.

So I have to admire them for their ability to keep on going after their NUMEROUS spills and for not just cussing at each other and skating off the rink mid-song.

But can we PLEASE work on the whole jumping thing for 2014? Because, otherwise . . . PUT ME IN COACH!!

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Worst aunt ever.

On Friday night, I had my nieces and nephew over for a slumber party and decided that we should watch the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics. I thought it would be a fun way to spend the evening with them because I LOVE the Olympics and I wanted to get them all hyped up about them, too. So I thought we'd watch it and I'd "oooooo" and "aaaaaaah" about all the athletes and maybe we'd see some cool shots of skiing or ski jumping and they'd think it was the coolest thing ever. And they'd be inspired by all the stories of the athletes who had worked so hard to earn the chance to represent their country and they'd go home with memories of watching the Olympics with me and with a shared passion for all things Olympic. So I got them all excited as we sat down with our macaroni and cheese and corn dogs and turned on the TV with great anticipation.

And there were the Olympic rings. There was the NBC Olympics anthem. And there was my man Bob Costas - back in my living room after a 2 year hiatus. We were ready to see skiing. We were ready to see snow boarding. We were ready to see what crazy opening ceremony the Canadians had planned. We were listening closely to Bob, with big smiles on our faces. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then Bob tells us that someone has died during the practice runs on the luge course.

Okaaaaaaay . . . I hadn't planned for that.

There was an understandable buzz in my living room and a corresponding look of confusion on all the kids' faces. This was not what I had promised them. This was not the inspirational event that they were expecting. Then, to make matters worse, I somehow missed the warning about the fact that they were going to actually show footage of the guy dying. So, suddenly, after I've hyped up these Olympics as the most awesome thing EVER, we're watching this guy flying off the luge course to his death.

[Gulp] I hadn't planned for that, either.

So now I'm doing damage control - trying to minimize any psychological scarring I've just inflicted upon them while simultaneously trying to salvage the reputation of the Olympics in their eyes. But it wasn't working. When NBC finally DID show us some people doing cool stuff like the ski jump, the kids didn't comment on how cool it was. Rather, they looked concerned and said "Oooooooh! Someone could DIE on that one - right, Catchy?" And then we saw a clip of an American athlete crying after winning gold in the last Olympics and they said "Why is she crying, Catchy? Did someone die?" I realized at that moment that I had single-handedly ruined the Olympics for them so, in one last effort to win them back, I tried my best to re-focus them on something OTHER than death:

Ben (5): Why is she crying, Catchy? Did someone die?
Me: No, she's proud. She's so so proud.
Avery (4): Why is she so proud?
Me: Because she worked REALLY hard and she won a gold medal for America. So she's just really happy right now.
Kids: [silence]
Me: [sensing I've said something really profound and inspirational that I should capitalize on . . .] You know, if you're an Olympic athlete, you have to work REALLY hard. And you can't give up. You have to just keep on trying and trying and you get better and better and then you can win a gold medal!
Savannah (7): But Catchy - I don't want to be in the Olympics. I don't wanna die til I'm like 100. [looks at me very seriously as if to make sure I fully understand her] I want to save my life.

Yep - I've scarred them for life.

It's official . . . I'm the worst aunt ever.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Happy Valentine's Day!!!!

I love Valentine's Day. I really do. I know many of my fellow singles hate it and, indeed, make conversations about the holiday fairly awkward with comments like "Valentine's Sucks" or "Yeah - thanks for reminding me that I'm single" or "You can shove your chocolates up your -" But I digress . . .

My point is that Valentine's is really a fun day whether you're single or in a relationship. I mean, what is there NOT to love about it? It's a day of love. It's a day of chocolates. It's a day of wearing RED, which is my favorite color. And it's a day of eating ridiculous amounts of candy without people judging you. Yes, I love everything about it.

Well, not EVERYTHING. I do have one problem with Valentine's . . . the conversation hearts. I love to eat them (the SweetTart ones - not the old-school mint/chalk ones) and I love the idea behind them - that you can give this little candy to someone and it will sum up what you want to say to that person. The only problem is that, since I AM single, the messages on the little hearts don't really help me express myself to the people around me. If I hand out "UR Hot" or "Be Mine" candies to people, I could end up having to have some very awkward "Define the Relationship" talks. And no one wants that.

So I think the solution is to create my own line of conversation hearts for singles. And my candies would tackle the real issues singles face . . .

First, I would just have a heart that says "Happy Valentine's Day!" - you know, something pretty generic that can be handed out to everyone you know. But on the back of those hearts, I would etch in "Notice I didn't say ValenTIME's." Granted, the heart would have to be over-sized so that all the words fit on it but it would be worth it - it's a message that must be spread. Seriously - why are people pronouncing it that way? Why? It's so distressing. And maddening - nay . . . infuriating. I mean, have they never seen it spelled out? Do they not see that there is no M in the entire word? And then there are the people who say "Balentime's," which is particularly mind-boggling and actually makes capillaries in my brain burst. Is this how they learned to say it as kids? Are they still saying "Pasghetti?" People need to be educated. And my conversation hearts would be up to the task.

My hearts would also handle the whole "I like you but you don't know that I do" situation. For instance, I have a crush on my yard guy Gustavo or, as my mom calls him, "Geraldo." I think he's super cute but don't get to see him that often because he usually does the yard when I'm at work. But every once in a while he shows up when I am working at home and I get SO excited. And, like every healthy single girl, I run upstairs and spy on him through the upstairs windows. Is that creepy? Perhaps. But what else am I supposed to do? Run out and yell "Mi Amor!" and then hand him a check for the yard work? No - a single girl like me just needs the right conversation heart to express her true feelings. So in the Catherine Palmore line of conversation heart candies, you would find hearts with Gustavo-inspired messages like "Creepy 4 U!" or "I C U" or "Look up."

I'm still working on how to handle the "I like you but I'm not sure that you like me and I don't really want to be vulnerable" problem. So far, I haven't figured out how to fit "I like you but if you don't like me that's okay because I didn't really like you that much anyway and you are the last guy I would date so quit looking at me. GAH." onto a little heart. I'll have to get back to you all on that one.

Single people also have to deal with making sure that we don't send the wrong signals to the wrong people so my hearts need to tackle that issue. You know - you're sitting there with your friend, eating conversation hearts and you innocently hand him a handful without first verifying that they bear the Valentine's greeting that's most reflective of your relationship. Suddenly, you find yourself sweating profusely as he reads messages aloud like "So cute" or "UR Mine" or "Be My Luv." In such a situation, a well-written conversation heart could really save the day. So I would make sure to include hearts that say things like "Buds 4 ever" or "Hey, FRIEND" or "No chance."

We singles also have to deal with the whole dating/sizing people up scene. I think that whole process could really be made so much simpler with the right conversation heart - that would really be useful to the singles out there. Therefore, my bag of conversation hearts would include hearts that communicate the important messages: "2 kids" or "Crazy Ex" or "C Cup" or "401K?" A guy could walk up to me and hand me a grape-flavored heart that said "M.D." Then I, being impressed with the message and the yummy grape flavor, could give him my "I'll cook 4 U!" heart. But then, just to make sure I didn't come off as too eager, I could follow it up with my "I'm not EZ" heart. See? A couple of well-written hearts and we're halfway down the aisle.

It's communication made simple, friends.

And it's a nice sugar high.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Well, that's just depressing . . .

In honor of Valentine's Week, I thought I'd give you something from the woman you all LOVE so much . . . my dear mommy, of course!! So here is a post written by Nora herself. Enjoy!!

* * * * *

Tonight I was watching a TV commercial about an antidepressant. It seemed like their goal was for me to feel transported to a beautiful daisy-filled field on my way to peace and serenity. All I have to do is take this little tiny pill. But at the end of the commercial you are dropped back to earth with a thud of reality as they tell you all the negative things that could happen if you do take it. The problem is that the announcer talks really fast like the old Fed EX commercial where you can hardly string two words together. So I wondered how many people would actually take that little pill if they got those dire warnings straight from their doctor while sitting in a sterile office far away from the fields and streams of that commercial:

Me: I've been feeling a little down lately and I can't seem to shake it. Is there anything you can suggest to make me feel like my old, cheery self?
Dr: (Writing out a prescription) Just take one of these each morning. You won't notice an appreciable difference for about two weeks, but then you will improve.
Me: Great! I feel better already. I haven't even felt like playing tennis these days.
Dr.: Well, now, I don't think tennis is a good idea because taking these can lead to stiff muscles and confusion or maybe even uncontrollable muscle movement and that could even be permanent. Of course it's not like you're playing at Wimbledon but still, I wouldn't chance it.
Me: Geez. That's too bad because I'm diabetic and that is one of the ways I get exercise.
Dr: Diabetic? High blood sugar has been reported while using this drug and in some cases extremely high blood sugar could lead to coma or death.
Me: Wow. I better not chance it - tennis is out, but I'm 65 so I can't just go out and jog like I used to.
Dr: 65? (Looking again at my records) Well, just bear in mind that elderly patients have an increased risk of death or stroke from this medicine.
Me: Hello! I only thought I was depressed when I got here!
Dr: It sounds bad, but remember. These pills are safe and have been approved by the FDA.
Me: Thanks.
Dr: If you decide to get that prescription filled be sure to call me if your depression worsens, or you have unusual changes in mood, behavior or thoughts of suicide.
Me: Well, HELL!

I'll tell you one thing - if I really had been at the doctor's office and had that conversation for real, I would have walked out of the office using my relatively strong leg muscles. And even though I wouldn't be heading for a walk through a field of daisies, I wouldn't end up a happy, but bed-ridden,confused, loose-muscled, half-paralyzed, suicidal stroke victim, either!

I think I'll just sniff some glue!

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Two thumbs up for Nora.

We've always been a big movie family. ESPECIALLY around awards season - we always have to make sure that we see the movies that are up for big nominations so that we're in the loop for the Oscars. We Palmore girls HATE to be out of the loop, you know. So, anyway, we spent this weekend at the movie theater, catching up on a few of the movies that people keep talking about.

First, we saw Avatar because my mom has been wanting to see it since there's been so much hype surrounding it. I had advised her against it because she is pretty easily scared. I mean, for example: if she's channel surfing and happens to see any of the characters from Star Trek, she'll have nightmares for a week. Like Dr. Spock . . . his pointy ears are good for at least three night terrors. And she has to look at her lap when a trailer for something like Star WARS comes on - a mere GLIMPSE of Chewbacca could very well necessitate a trip to a counselor. So I didn't think it a good idea to have her sit in a theater while blue aliens jump out of the screen at her in 3D for three hours. But she decided it was a risk she was willing to take so that she could be in the loop. So we donned our 3D glasses and watched it. And, if you can ignore the thinly-veiled political message, it was a pretty good movie. Even my mom enjoyed it . . . when she wasn't looking at her lap.

We also went to see Crazy Heart because Jeff Bridges won the Golden Globe for his performance in it and is up for an Oscar, as well. He plays a 57 year old alcoholic country singer who makes his living playing in various little venues like bowling alleys and little bars. During his travels, he meets a journalist (Maggie Gyllenhaal) and they fall in love. It was a good movie . . . if you don't mind watching a 57 year old man and a 30 year old woman getting it on while you're sitting next to your mom . . .

For some reason, the end of the movie really upset my sister Erin and, after we got outside, she started crying about it. I mean, she was laughing about the fact that she was crying, but she was crying nonetheless. My mom looked at me, waiting for me to say something, and then said "Now, why don't you make fun of HER?"

And I knew immediately why she was asking me that . . .

When I was in college, my mom and I decided to go to the movies but we couldn't decide which movie we wanted to see. We had it narrowed down to two: The Deep End of the Ocean (with Michelle Pfeiffer) or October Sky. My mom has always been really fun and spontaneous so it was not surprising to me when her solution to the problem was "Let's do both!" It sounded like a great idea to me so we bought tickets to the 7ish Deep End of the Ocean and the 10ish October Sky and we were SUPER excited about our fun plan. We bought all of our treats - enough to get us through two movies, of course - and made the trek to stop number 1: The Deep End of the Ocean.

Have you ever seen that movie? It's incredibly sad. Like horribly, horribly sad. Like rip your heart out and run it over with a Mac truck sad. So at the end of the two hours, my mom was a complete basket case. A snotty, blubbering, verging on hysterical basket case who could not POSSIBLY sit through another movie without embarrassing us both. So I drove her home while she sobbed in the passenger seat, helped her into the house so that she could go throw herself onto her bed in a fit of hysterics, and then explained everything to my dad, who was a bit alarmed but mostly amused at the situation. It was hilarious and I have made endless fun of my mom for it. For the last 10 years or so, I have not let her forget 1) that she LITERALLY cried herself to sleep over a MICHELLE PFEIFFER movie and 2) that she still owes me for that second movie.

So as we stood there outside of Crazy Heart, I knew that my mom was thinking that Erin's emotional outburst deserved some ridicule, as well. And I knew what she was going to say before she even said it. But I DON'T know why it surprised me when she said it in true Nora fashion:

Mom: Now, why don't you make fun of HER?? I bet you're not gonna be blogging about THIS, are you? But you STILL make fun of me for crying at "The End of the Rainbow."
Me: "The Deep End of the Ocean."
Mom: Whatever.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand that's why I blog about YOU, Mom.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Super Bowl!!

I went to my sister Erin's house tonight for her Super Bowl party and my mom and my other sister, Tammy, also went. The three of us aren't really football people - I usually pick the team I'm going to root for by looking to see how cute the quarterback is. I think you can really judge a team's talent that way. Some people may think I'm "shallow," but to them I say "Brett Favre."

This year, I decided to root for the Saints because they'd never been to the Super Bowl before. Aaaaaaaaaaand because everyone else was rooting for them and I'm a follower. But I was also pleased to see that the Saints quarterback was cute so my winning-team-selection method continues to hold water . . .

But picking the winning team wasn't the only highlight for me from this evening's festivities. Here are my other top moments:

1. Not winning in any of my Super Bowl squares and having to endure the humiliation when my brother-in-law, my 9 year old niece, and an unborn child won $40 each.
2. The "Casual Friday" commercial.
3. The Doritos commercial with the kid who slaps his mom's date.
4. This conversation between my mom and my sister Tammy:

TV: blah blah blah blah football stuff blah blah blah blah.
Guy 1: blah blah Peyton Manning blah blah.
Guy 2: Yeah, blah blah first down blah blah.
Mom: [very seriously] Well, New Orleans has the cutest uniforms I think I've ever seen.
Tammy: Mmmmmmm hmmmmmmmm . . .
Guy 3: Blah blah the Saints are so cool blah blah.
TV: Blah blah defensive lineup blah blah blah.
Guy 1: These cookies are good. [hey - I tuned the football talk out, not the dessert talk . . .]
Guy 3: Blah blah blah field goal blah blah blah.
Mom: I mean, their pants are the prettiest gold.
TV: Blah blah blah offensive starters blah blah blah.
Mom: Just a beautiful color . . .
TV: [off-sides kick and all the guys from both teams and I'm pretty sure some people from the sidelines pile onto the two guys at the bottom fighting over possession of the ball]
Mom: Can you imagine all those 200-something pound men piled on top of you?
Tammy: No. It's hard for me to breathe with just my BRA on.

Ah. Good times. Good times.

Friday, February 5, 2010

It's a mystery to me!

My sister Tammy home-schools her kids. For their writing assignments, they have to write in a journal each day so my niece Emma (who's in 3rd grade) decided that she is going to write a chapter book in her journal rather than just writing about the events of her day. She is currently writing a mystery. Complete with illustrations.

My nephew, Ben (who's in kindergarten), is also keeping a journal this year and has also decided that he wants to write a book in his journal like Emma. In fact, he is also writing a mystery. Apparently, his mystery is about a bunch of kids who have mysteriously "dissingappeared" and is, I understand, quite a page-turner.

Today, Tammy decided to have a little talk with Ben to make sure that he understood that he didn't have to write a mystery just because Emma is doing it. So they had this conversation:

Tammy: You know, Ben - you don't HAVE to write a chapter book just because Sissy is. You can do something different if you want to. It's your journal so it's up to you what you write in it.
Ben: No, Mommy. I HAVE to keep writing my story. I mean, I HAVE to find out what happens to all the kids!


Thursday, February 4, 2010

Put down the spatula and no one gets hurt.

As many of you know, I deal with sex offenders in my job. We have to take their depositions before we go to trial and, in a deposition, we ask lots of questions and get all kinds of strange answers. Recently, I went to a deposition that had lots of little golden moments that I thought I might share with you all, along with the things that were going through my head at the time. Enjoy!

Brotherly love:
Q. Have you ever had sex with your sister?
A. [Purses lips, narrows eyes, and stares up at the ceiling as if trying to think REALLY hard . . .] No. I don't think so.

You know - if ever there was a question that you should be able to readily answer with an emphatic "NO", THAT would be it.

Okay. Now it's personal:
Q. Have you ever sold drugs?
A. Yes.
Q. Who did you sell drugs to?
A. Just some of my friends.
Q. How old were those friends?
A. 20, 23, 30s - old. Elderly.

Ummmmmm . . . did he just say 30s was "elderly?" Okay, let me at him. No, seriously - I'm gonna punch his face in.

HIGHly confusing:
Q. [About how he knew he'd be able to refrain from drug usage once released from prison]
A. Because I have no desire to get high. I mean, don't get me wrong - with all this stress in here, I want to get to high.

Wait . . . what? [Looking around for help understanding.] What was . . . did you under- . . . huh?

Come again?
A. I was on the outskirts of the down side. Know what I'm sayin'?

No . . . actually . . . I . . . I . . . have NO idea what you're saying . . .

Multi-purpose utensil:
Q. [About a fight he had had at one of his jobs.]
A. He slapped me with a spatula.

I'm sorry. Did he just say "slapped me with a spatula?" Wow. That is the ULTIMATE b---h slap. Please, please, PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE tell us you got back at him with a retaliatory whisking . . .

I know I've said it a million times but . . . I LOVE MY JOB!!

And I have a new respect for my spatula . . .

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Meet Ramiro.

I've been in trial this week and we picked our jury on Monday. After we were finished with the jury selection, my trial partner, my boss, and I headed out of the courthouse to grab a bite to eat and discuss the trial. On my way to the restaurant, I found myself behind a truck with this little portrait on it:

As you undoubtedly know by now, my brain doesn't always work the way a brain is supposed to work. Normal brains see this kind if thing and they filter it out as unimportant information. Never even registers with them. Normal brains focus, instead, on the cars zooming past them on the highway as their driving.

But not mine. My brain gets bogged down with thoughts like "Who is Ramirez Martinez Jr.?? Does the real Ramirez have spiky hair on one side and wavy on the other? Is he actually cross-eyed? Did he have a booger coming out of his nose at the time or did the artist take artistic license on it? Has he possibly suffered a stroke?"

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then my brain tells me it's perfectly safe up as close to the truck as I can get while simultaneously trying to zoom in for the perfect shot.

That's not normal.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Not. Good.

There are moments in life that create such terror in you that your heart actually - nay, LITERALLY - skips a beat. Moments that make you you cringe in horror. Moments where you consider running away and changing your name. Moments where you curse your heart for resuming its beat. You've experienced them. So I have I.

You know what I'm talking about. Like when you check your nose in the dressing room mirror and then wonder if it's a two-way mirror with a security guard on the other side watching you examine your nostrils in your underwear and you wonder if you were at least sucking your stomach in. Or when you reply to a friend on a mass email with a snotty comment about one of the other people on the email list and then realize that you just replied to all. Or like when you offer to pay for lunch for everyone, then order a bunch of appetizers to demonstrate your generosity, and insist that they all order dessert "on you" aaaaaaaaand then you realize that you left your debit card at home. Or when you're eating queso with a cute guy and then you drop a big hunk of it on your left boob and find yourself saying things like "Thank goodness for these things - would've been such a waste if that had hit the floor." You know, things like that.

But, recently, someone said words that made me want to die. Made me want to crawl under a rock and never make eye contact with anyone again. We were having a conversation with my mom and, suddenly, my world was shaken:

Mom: Can you see who all has been looking at your facebook page?
Me: No.
Friend: Actually, I think that you CAN.




What is the world coming to?? Are you telling me that now - suddenly - I'm no longer allowed to facebook stalk people anonymously?? That now I can't look at my 2nd grade friend's pictures from her 2008 trip to Guatemala without being "discovered." That when I look on that cute guy's wall to see what girls are writing to him that he'll KNOW I'm potentially unstable??

What a rip off.

I have no idea if this is true or merely a vicious lie designed to keep me awake at night, tossing and turning and dreaming about restraining orders. If it IS true, I'm gonna have a LOT of explaining to do to people . . .