A challenge?

Some how I feel this scene would be better suited with a Coors Light…

How cold is it?

Yoga yoga bo boga

So I am headed to Bikram tonight for the first time in two weeks – this is mainly because the last three times I had the 2.5 hours free that Bikram requires (90 minutes of class and 60 minutes of getting ready and driving to and fro) I made up some lame excuses that kept me on my sofa in some sort of reclined position, perhaps also with my eyes closed.

I have a 30-pack of classes that is coming close to expiring. In fact, it may be that I have up to 12 classes remaining in my pre-paid pack and a mere 16 days to complete them.  That’s a lot of triangle poses, yo.  Especially considering that of the following 16 days, six of them are already slated for copious amounts of drinking–and I don’t mean Emergen-C.  I am talking about the vodka/wine/beer kinda of drinking. The kind of drinking that leaves you dehydrated and completely unprepared for the sweatfest that is Bikram.

There’s got to be a way to keep the drinking on the calendar, yet still not waste any pre-paid yoga classes.  Conundrum!

This is my life.  Trying to balance my boozing with my yoga and my running.  It’s not easy people, it’s not easy.

Slowpoke Rodriguez I’m not.

Race for Hope went awesomely.  The whole event raised over $1.2 million for brain tumors and brain cancer and the team I organized with folks from the office raised nearly $4,000.  It may even go over that since donations are being accepted through September.  More importantly, my race time didn’t comepltely suck.  I haven’t raced or even done a lick of speed work since last October, but I was still able to post a 27:31.  Under 9 minute miles.  Makes me feel hopeful for this Saturday’s Battle of the Boulevard 10K and any training I might get myself into this summer.

After taking it easy this weekend in prep for the race, no Cinco de Mayo celebrations for me, I decided to make up for lost (drinking) time after the race.  Meeting up for a lovely, sunny lunch at Georgetown’s Cafe Bonaparte yesterday with the soon to be departed Heather B. — we innocently decided to push our lunch into the standard dinner hours and beyond. For after a few glasses of wine over crepes it was determined that the breezy afternoon should not end.  And so it came to be that vodkas and Tuacas were imbibed  down the street and then again around the corner.  Apparently the thought of a dry weekend does not sit well with me.  Hell, seems the thought of a sober weekend doesn’t either.  Good thing surround myself with like-minded, liver-hating friends. 

Ooh la la, aren’t you the charming one?

I totally wined and dined myself yesterday. And if I were one to put out on a first date, I totally would have given it up to myself, because hot damn I am a superb wooer.

I woke yesterday excited (not that kind of excited you pervs) because it was to be my first run since the marathon. Testing out the hip and the calf, I went out in the wind and the rain for a little 3-miler. And had to turn back and walk home after just one mile. There was just too much pain. Not that it was excruciating pain, but it was too much pain to be having after a two-week rest period. Physical therapy here I come. Ugh.

So, to make myself feel better after having to walk home in the cold, wind and rain (running in that is one thing, walking in it just plain sucks) I made myself a kick ass breakfast of eggs stuffed with baby spinach and chevre. So yummy. And it worked, I totally felt better about my day. So good in fact I decided to go out and get some errands done before Sunday’s games really got underway.

And as I was running errands, I stopped and bought myself a large, tasty bowl of tomato basil soup. At this point my mouth is really starting to fall for me. So I lug it (my mouth) on over to the grocery store where I load up on all the staples, including a case of wine. Valpolicella, Malbec, Pinot Grigio, Chianti, Shiraz, Sangiovese. You know, the necessities.

After returning home and getting my fill of the crazy ass football games I decide that I need to make myself a nice dinner before the Sunday night game starts. I mean, I already started to fall for myself earlier in the day…now’s where I lay it on, right? A damn tasty chicken divan ladled over organic brown rice and a generous glass of Chianti sealed the deal. What a better way to woo a girl than with a nice glass of wine, a home-cooked meal and football? (Sigh, Ed Hochuli. Hochuli! Hochuli!) Actually I wasn’t really able to seal the deal with myself until the 3rd quarter of the Bears/Giants game when it was noticed that said bottle of Chianti was…um…empty. Using my smarts (and avoiding a scene) I poured myself a glass of the open Pinot Grigio used to make the chicken divan. Potential crisis averted, I was able to finish watching the game with myself, booze in hand.

LEGEND:
Items in green are the way to this girl’s heart.

Don’t speak so soon

So, remember when I said that running was interfering with my drinking? Well, I may have spoken too soon. Or rather not qualified that statement enough. It seems that running is only interfering with my Friday drinking. Outside of Friday, I don’t seem to have a problem imbibing at all.

*There was free wine and beer at the Fiona Apple concert on Monday (thanks again, Bug):

*Tuesday I had a day off from drinking.

*Wednesday there was an office outing that included beer starting at 1pm. By 5pm, this is what we were dealing with:

*Thursday there was an office happy hour (not to be confused with an office outing), whereby “hour” = 5.

*And now there is tonight, Friday, where I am not drinking so as not to interfere with my run tomorrow. Wait! Running is interferring with my drinking…I am so confused. I need a drink.

In other news:
We have three contestants for the Why I am Worthy of a Free Baseball Ticket Contest. I have cleverly dubbed them, Contestant #1, Contestant #2 and Contestant #3. So we are feverishly assigning and docking them points to see who will be the winner. There is time, though if anyone else wants to enter!

I heart it with a big uncircumsized penis

I do.(M)

She is talking about my new handbag, which is ever so cute. Geez, typing is hard. That sentence took an hour to perfect! (And ha! I said hard. after she named her entry… Dirrty.) BUGGG

I only talk about uncircumsized penises? penisii? because she made me look at Google images.!!! Of them…the uncircumsized. (M)

I made her look at circumsized ones too. (B)

Well I claimed I had never seen one. I guess it’s not that easy to determine. Or something. I dunno. I still say clip that shit. (M)

NOOO. I say leave it alone!! pooor babies, all traumatized already don’t need no snipping. BUT should the father decide his son needs the cut, then he is welcome to it, and also to tend to the wound, because until that shit is healed, I HAVE NO SON! (B)

o dyou want to be pregnant, dont’ you”?? (MP) What is with the fucking Militaryu Police? I can’t type an “M”? WTF? (M) OOh picture time. Am I pretty?

Um, Yes Marci, you are a fucking knockout. Now shut it. Penis. (b)

Shut the Penis? Ow? Ow! Right? Pretty penis. (M)
I dunno. I ain’t got one. But I do need a date. With a manly man. I do not have a chicago hottie to look forward to. Tramp. (B)

I am so not trampy! No tramps to see…keep walking (M)

Marci thinks she is Military Police. But she is no authority figure. NO. Wanna see the wine we are enjoying? Cause it is so goooood. (B)

She says I don’t look 10,000 years Old. I say I have a line in the middle of my face. She says I don’t have a line on my fucking face. What am I lying? Fuck you Marci. I do too look 8,000 years old. (B)

See, she dropped just 2,000 years in the spacec of one sentence~@!@@!! She is a liar.! She is hot, right? MY WIFE IS A FUCKING HOTTIE! (M) No poilicve.

Ok Whoa. I do not know what she was trying to get across there, but apparently she wants you to think she has good taste. MY WIFE IS HOT! But her’s? Meh.. Or should I say, SMOKIN’!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111111111111!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111111!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah! Bitches, slide in on that. I make her look at uncircumcized peniiii. And she does it! I rule! (B)

She rules me is all I know. I will look at the peniii, it’s true. I peek through … I can’t make this soiund innicent at all. Fuck. (M)

Heh. (B)

Pictures? Yes. NOOO!

Fuckin’ Blogger. Marci proudly denounces it as a cicimsized bitch. (B)

Meh! Mwh. Mejuhyreihf. bLOGGER HATER ME AND i HATE IT HE FUCKER TOO. ()

Wow. (B)

C’mon? Thar’s all you got? You aibn’t sober beeyothc. Bring iot. (M)

Marci is a pirate ya’ll. no, I ain’t sober. I almost fell over in the bathroom, washing my hands. High Life!!! NO, not Miller Marci. More wine. We are gonna have to go to red soon. Damn, three bottles deep. You gonna spoon me tonight? Because I am so lonely. (B)

Ok I was in until the last line:? Lonlet? OOh, sounds scary…can I handle it? I heart the spoon. And I don’t mean the utensil (M)\

It sounds scary, because lonely= more than spoon, right? Buut not in this house, babycakes. Bernard takes all that shit. He does. Yes. He loves it. Bernard is a whore. (B)

Blogger no appeove of our photgrAPHIC evidence. They be censoring us bitches!!!!!!! Oh!!! (M)

Hehehehehe/ she makes me laugh. and larf. I feel like writing for a bit. Bear with me. Jewel thinks everybody needs someone sometimmemmememmememem. two three four. I need someone. But someone cool. Marci is gross. She is talking about someones bapotao pants. By that I mean potato apants. Um. If I shake real cute will you give me sugar? Or a million bucks? Huh, will ya? Would you do that for me? I was inj an onlne pretty contest once. Does that make me special? No? FUCK YA! (B)

ME? Should I give you sugar? 4yeesssn SAys Buggie Cuzn I got sugAR to give, n you are hot. mmm yes yoiuare. (M)

I got a ton of splenda. You interested? (B)

Maybe if you ring my bell? Ha. HAAAA? Oh my god I cracj myself up…………..Fucking yeah bitches. I love drooler. (M)

Maybe you should stop thinking about you doorbell. I almost drolled n her/ That was me. And the white stripes are influecing her head. Yessir. I liked him in that movie with the cold mountain. It was just so cold. Not brokeback mountain. Jeez. Marci likes naked gay boys. I though they looked like muppets. Is something wrong with me? (BUGGGIE FOREVER)

Wromng? Yes. For sure. Yep. No fieurn doubt. Ypu are forever in my life. And you touched me with yer boobs just now. A!!!! AgIN AND gIN~! (m) nO CONCENTRtion. BoooooooooooooooooooooobsQ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (M)O

(B)Not A, C!!!!! C’mon! Marci lost the back of her chair. bUT THERE it was … gone. I love marci, nx try to show her with pressing of C boobs ,,,, but hse thinks of gin? No. Unsatisfactiry. Hmmmm. Is she gonna spoon me or what. She used to without hesitation. But now… She is too saucy for me. Just kidding. She is saucy enough…. WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sh eis saucy like BBQ. Zesty. Tasty. I no think of Gin with C boobs on my arm. Gin is no good. Vodka. Is good. Wine os good too. Wine like C & D boobies. It like wooo. boobies together. We likey. All faMILY AND FUN. Shhhhh. MY GLASS is freakin empty! (M)]

Her glass is not empty. No. (B)

Well no…..geesh….not anymore. She good wife. The non-blonde. (M)

That is true. I am not blonde! Wassup! It freaks everyone out. Apparently I am supposed to be blonde. The people at my church tell me I look like hell. I say thanks a lot. You are swell people. Kisses to you. (B)

SHE NOT HELL LOOKING> I kilol the,m. THe people the church. She s hot wife. Hottest wife on planet. We are forgetting about all assholes of our past. Only cheery futures for us and hot…ness….love..mmm .yeah. Oh. (M)

I would like to be flirted with by a non-married fella. (B)

Married peoeps are bitches. No try to kiss me or shove tongues in mouhts. What up woth that shit? Fuckers. I talk to you about your wife and at the end of the night you try to kiss me? BAH!!! Done. I hate. (M)

Me too. I hate. I will kick you in your face.a dn then poke you witha sharp stick in your testicular region. NO> Stop itr. You must talk so big to make up for smaller things. Thanks Xtina. (B)

Free! Kill the ghosts. Go Anna Nalick. Wine and music. Good together like me and the Bug. (M)

OMIGOD!v She is so right, -the errant v…. Aw. I have the best best friend in the world. I first typed frined… I love her sooooo much. We have our occassionally flare ups, but that just makes us better, I think. So, this may be sappy, but I have no idea where I would be without her. I need my baby banana. (B)

Bananas need Bugs you know! It’smtrue. Mush. All much central here. Nothing tos ee. Move along. I love her. What can I say. She is the best bug ever. Even among non bugs. She the best.. (M)

A bug flew in my eye today. (B)

Did it die> (M)

I believe it’s life was snuffed amongst my eye fluids. (B)

YOU CRIED IT TO DEATH? GOD that is sad. You cried your family to deTH. You are not crying now. Even with Fiona and the BaD day song. (M) but I thinkthe bad day song is happy.

Um. It was a gnat, I beleieve. But I never found out. This song is not happy but it is empowering to women. I am talking Fiona’s song. I am not in love. I can’t stop falling out. I hear ya, Fee. I can call her fee, cause we are all tight and shit. I MISS THAT STUPID ACHE. Bah. Men. Love. Suck igt. Hmm. Ashe is no. She is bitter like me. I love Fee. (B)

I used to be bitter. I am still. A teeny bit.. Wee bit. But hearting boy in Chicago. Makes me forget about crappy boyness. How does that happen>? Boy. Comes. Nice. Calls. Calls you pretty. You forget and melt? How does the cycle continue? Bitterness rules the fucjing world. Ask IsrAEL. (m) mE NOT a politico,\

I am bitter. Am not a politico. Am a popolitico, though. No, I will quote nothing. But I am bitter from ex, and I am bitter from idiots who hit on me when I go out. Nothing good. And I am sooooooooooooooooooooooooo sorry to the really nice guys that I am simply not attracted to. So, I will wait. And sit at home where my chances of meeting a great guy are the same as my chances of having talking to talk to an idiot who deems me a bitch within 22 seconds because I won’t let him buy me a drink (BUG OUT)

Boys are dumb. I know. I mean soooo dumb. Is there anything dumber than a boy trying to hit on a girl? Shit it has been years since I had a real boyfriend. Dates. Even those dates ended up dumb. Holding out hope though. I wonder. Frequntley in that makes me dumb girl though? I doon’t wanna be that dumb girl. I don’t feel dumb and desperate. But I wonder (MP) POLICE! YeH. Every breathe you take…..oh yeah

Naw, you ain’t desperate. You just right. I am too bitter. Too angry. Too jaded. Sad for me. I will never give the guy the chance. (B)

Ypuve always been the jaded girl. ALWAYS! Why? Imean 10+ years of it. I wonder. You deserve it most of all (M)

Some peopel should just be alone. That’s life. (B)

Why do people date anywat? If it’s al for nothing. Does it ever work out. I don’t thinkI know anyone who is really happy. REALLY. For reals. (M)

Aw. People who love for real are cooll/ b

Cool. (M) We’[re cool.

You know I think I would be happy to see anyone I have ever known, whatever level… happy with someone. (B)

Pearl Jam concert will lift any spirit. (B)

Even if the Vetter writes about depressing shit (M).

She means Vedder. But She stills is sincere in her love (b)

edddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddie(m)

hoo hoo hoo hooo hoo hoo hoo hoo oooowwhoaaaaaaaaa. (B)

Spoke in. spoke in. Uh huh. uh huh. (B)

Sigh. I feel spent. Mmmm. What song is next? (M)… … … Jewel… About long distance./ That is for you Marci and him. You know HIM> (B)

I don’t know bout ni long distance. But I did have to change my phone plan. (M)

Whoa. That is huge. She would not do that for me!!!! She wants to make his toes curl. He’ll be her only boy and she’ll be his only girl. (B) Damn, it is so sweet I need to go to the dentist.

I never went over my minutes with you, wife. That is the beauty of work-time phone calls. This one, the Cubs Fan, loves to call me at 7pm. JUST under Cingular nights and weekend time. I am in so much debt next month. Ouch. (M)

Ask her about her savings account. Suck it. In debt. (B)

Which TOTALLY got broken into to pay for WVAness.!!!!! $1000+ credit card bill for JUNE! JULY is even more, and it’s not even due yet. OUCH broke hurts (M)

Um, how much is repaid by work. WV was cheap. She is rich.Don’t let her trick you. FOH REAA (B)

Pretending everything’s ok. Michelle. Why you love me like that? Bug! YOu love me likethat? You wanna be alone? I don’t. I like you rcompay. I’ll throw some diamonds at you. I will. (MO()

Love me or leave me, baby, don’t lead me on. But I love your company too. (B)

The naked married couple says Love is EASY. The naked ones from WV pool. They say you don’t have to work at it. I call BULLSHIT (M)

Maybe it should be easy because you WANT to work at it. ? (B)

Wanting to work at it is different than HAVING to. Right? I am not off on that. Love is work. But the good kind? Shit. I dunno . What do I know. Pretty much nada. (M) totally nada

Don’t ask me. I have been in one real relationship that turns out to have meant nothing at all. So I know nothing. What I thought I felt was a ruse. So I can tell you what fake feels like., It feels kind of real. But only for you. (B)

Fuck maybe real is for suckers. Let’s all go to LaLa land. Wooooo. In my head. In her head. Woo. I cna’t stop typing “wood” But i have friends with wonderful imaginations. I am going there. I will ride their rides and kiss their dream boys. And run around like Puck (M) BugField and CLussyLand come to mind….

I don’t wanna be foolhardy. I don’t want another one to catch me. But you can’t go around with the expectation that they will hurt you, but I can’t help it. So I hide out. Lemme alone. And don’t judge me when I am sad being alone, and don’t judge me for being alone. (someone)

Bitter is for suckers, too. We need to stop with the bitter. We are cute. Smart. Funny. We deserve it all. Bitches. You betta recognize. (M)\

but are there creatures out there deserving? Capable of giving us what we need? That was somethng I used to hear a lot… “I can’t give you what you need.” )B_

I don’t know why I have an opptomistic nature with this crap (sometimes), but I think you are Super, Bug, always have….you are the most deserving of the whole (oh god I have to spell some shit) shegang. Shebag. Shebang. ??? Chibang? I dunno, that girl rocks. And she’s always been jaded. And I always tell her to hold out. And I am wrong. A lot. But not about the deserving part. (M)

Wait. Jen. Hi. Love you. S’all. (M)

I love Jen too. (B)

I am too sleepy to contemplate all the fan-flippin-tastic losers I could spend my life with. Unfortunatley I would rather be alone/ than with a lose.r. But I like Mr. Cubs-fan/ AND THJAT IS HUGE CAUSE SHE IS MY WIFE FUCKWADS… I don’t share so good. And Tom Cruise and Joseph sMITH and L Ron Hubbard are fuckwads. (BBBBB)

You share fine. I drakn half your wine, didn’t I? FuCKWADS are for assholes. (M)

Sleeping with Bernard time?> (B)

Is there spooning involved…w/o the ugly monster-thing?(IM)

I’ll hold him.(B)

I’ll hold you? (M) We are all even? I don’t touch the monster, ruight?

Naw, he is true to me. He is mine mineminemine (B)

DeaL

g’NIGHT. fOLKS.

m OUT

b OUT SOO TIRE, D … aND NO DATING TIPS PLKEAESESE. SO BORESD WIRTH NDATING. AND DATIG TIPS. (bp

I thank you

I thank you, you whomever in my family history gave me the genes capable of drinking an entire bottle of wine and not feeling drunk* or even hung over the next day. Seriously, if I could isolate that part of my genetic makeup and recreate it I would be a freaking millionaire, nay BILLIONAIRE, because people would buy this shit up. Note to self, in next life become super smart geneticist.

*Not drunk, but oh so happy to watch ANTM with the best friend, look at old yearbook photos and (again!) marvel over the fact that she and I went to the same freaking school in 8th grade and knew all the same people but were not aware of the other’s existence until we were 19 years old. So that prompts another thank you. Thank you to Bennigan’s and Crown Books. Bennigan’s for scheduling us both for a double shift that fateful summer day and Crown Books for being there to entertain us and lay the foundation for an amazing friendship.

Tradition is tradition damnit! Even if I have to resort to thievery.

“Why is it a tradition? Because we do it all the time!
Why do we do it all the time? Because it’s tradition!”
–My boxing coach, Tom Quinn

Last week was my fifth conference in Boca and for the four Boca conferences prior, I had come home with at least one bottle of (free) wine. It was two years ago that I finally deemed it tradition, and by golly, there wasn’t going to be anything that stopped me from continuing said ritual.

THE HISTORY
2002 ~ Being fairly new and wide-eyed (“The hotel, it’s pink!” “Those hyacinth are gorgeous!” “The yachts are huge!”) I followed the rest of the “cool” staff around during the non-working hours (by cool, I mean those that like to dance and drink). After one reception, and while we waited for the next one to start, they dragged me to Resort Bingo. Resort Bingo happens to be (generally) played by the Club Members, of which the youngest is probably 84. The Club Members did not look highly upon us hot, young things taking up valuable bingo cards, bringing in our not-to-be-shared plates of gulf shrimp and plastic tumblers full of wine. Not to mention the fact that someone outside of their group might actually win those resort logoed flip flops they were giving away as prizes. Well, outside of our wine-induced hyjinks, things were going well for the blue-hairs (meaning we hadn’t won anything). That is until the last round, and the most glorious prize of the bunch came up for grabs…a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from the resort’s cellar. Marci don’t play when it comes to wine (or apparently she does play Bingo at least), and sure ’nuff that bottle went home with me. And you can be sure that I youthfully danced my way past the blue-hairs to collect my winnings. FREE BOCA WINE #1

2003 ~ For some reason this year I was deemed a VIP. Which basically meant special treatment upon check-in, a coolio little emblem on my resort charge card (cool for whom, I am not sure), and a big pretty amenity basket in my room. Complete with….you guessed it….a full bottle of wine. FREE BOCA WINE #2

2004 ~ With no bingo and no VIP status this year, I figured that wrapping a bottle of wine in hotel towels and stuffing it into my suitcase would not be an activity for me. Wrong! At our staff dinner, the sommelier set up a little game for us (well, we told him to do it). All the plates, glasses, silverware and linens were left in the center of the table and each person had to set their own place setting as perfectly as possible in order to get dinner. Ever so smart, yours truly won the competition — beating out my closest competitor by folding my napkin into a piece of art (if art means something that resembles a drunken swan) and thus, winning myself a bottle of wine. FREE BOCA WINE #3

2005 ~ The situation was dire — Meg (then, a co-worker of mine) and I had decided to stay the weekend to sleep, sun and spa — the conference was now over and I had yet to procure my free bottle of wine. Being completelty exhausted, Meg and I debated staying in and vegging in front of the TV our last evening in town. But, not wanting to waste time in Florida lying around on the sofa, we forced ourselves downstairs to the bar. We s-l-o-w-l-y proceed to have a raucous time (“name-badge free zone!”), it just happened to turn out that the restaurant manager and sommelier were bored next door and decided to use us for amusement. Amusing we were, because before the sommelier left for the evening he pulled a bottle of wine off the wall of the bar, signed it, and gave it to me. Crisis averted! FREE BOCA WINE #4

CUT TO: LAST WEEK
No bingo. No uber friendly sommelier. No VIP status (although I did get a 1/2 bottle of merlot from the hotel…but halfsies don’t count). By this time, it’s a full-fledged tradition and I had told others about it. I cannot go home without my wine! So I set my sights on the Tuscan wine tasting late in the week. The wines were beautiful and oh so tasty. I almost forgot about my mission, but when the Banquet Captain came up to me desperately whispering “We have to break down now, we have another group moving in this same space in 45 minutes.”, I figured this was my chance. After asking about the time and realizing we are 30 minutes past the printed hours, I tell him that we are safe to tear down and kick people out. As they start to clear the items away, I see a wine station with open bottles — prepped to pour, but completely full. Meaning they are paid for, regardless if they get imbibed or not. Guess what came home with me? FREE BOCA WINE #5 (a nice Tuscan red by the way)

All is right with the world and my tradition lives on.

Buggie, are you proud? I totally (kinda) used your banquet alcohol stealing (BAS) tactics to score this one.

The baby Jesus wins out over a rubber chicken every time

I didn’t find the baby Jesus, but this guy right next to me did.

The baby Jesus was baked inside of this King Cake from Tallulah. I ate two peices looking for that friggin baby.

Here is Law-ruh, the Queen of the Parade. *I’ll be your Washington Post cover, girlfriend. She is funny, too bad her blog, WonL, is on hiatus for Lent. Damned religious fool.

Here, Travis is decorated by the Queen. Decorations are important when in the presence of a Mardi Gras Queen.

And now I eat her sceptor. Geesh, still no baby Jesus. What’s a girl got to do to get some good luck around here?

Add more decorations? (and act like a ninja–WTF?)

So, I’ll just wait here like Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon (except more sparkly) waiting for my luck.

W.U.I.

(Watching Under the Influence)

On a Sunday. Starting at 7pm*.

I have six words for you before I launch into my drivel. Dacing.With.The.Stars.Grey’s.Anatomy. Oh, add one more….WINE.

Yes, I watched Dancing with the Stars. And oh, how do I love it! God. Please tell me it’s the wine that loves it and not me. I mean outside of the pink fringe costumes that not one, but TWO “stars” are wearing, this is a pretty fun show. (It’s the wine talking, it has to be. I swear it’s the wine….seriously, all the worst swear words). Jerry Rice? How cute is he? Thank the lord he cut off those god awful dreads that started halfway back on his head. Men who accept that they are losing their hair and get on with life are so much hotter than those that try to defy it.

Oh jeez! Shut it with all the emotional, sentimental shit and dance already.

Aw, look at the mini Nick Lachey. Awweittybittybaby. Oop! Pro-dancer chick is “like a sister” to him. Sucks, cuz she soooo has the hots for him. If she had better hair, I’d feel sorry for her.

Giselle is hot, she should be my girlfriend. Aw yeah. Sorry, we were interrupted by a Victoria’s Secret ad.

Who exactly is the just eliminated “star” Stacy? GF of Tom Brady? Is that her claim to fame? Or did they just get Tom in the audience promising him hot chicks? They just keep showing him every time she does something dancy, so I am left to assume they are doing it.
Oh no! Jerry Rice lost! WTF? Montana should have been his dance partner….together they can do no wrong. So MNL (Mini Nick Lachey) won. Hmph.

Uh, why is the Dancing with the Stars trophy a disco ball on a golden tee? How is that relevant? I bet Vijay gets in on this action next time around.

oooohhhh McSteamy and McDreamy. I need some of that sandwich.

EWwwww! Who gets poison oak on the cooter? Sorry, we switched shows if you weren’t aware.

And I totally get both sides in the Meredith/George fiasco. I feel sorry for them both. When you have a boy that is so, just there all the time with his puppy dog love and you know you are not interested so you pretend you are not aware of his feelings (which is easy because it’s not like he ever says anything) and then one day things escalate and if it catches you in a sad (or drunk) place you may just think “He is a good guy, why don’t I like him?…if I give in maybe I will like him…” and …and, well it’s sad. And bad. Sad bad.

Ok, this is just going to get more and more random as I drink more wine. So I should stop now before you get bored.
(7 minute pause)
So who wants to go dancing with me?
(6 minute pause)
Hahah! Can I get drunk (check) and sleep with inappropriate men (no check)? Preferably one that does not fall down the stairs (oh, and is hot)? Or Giselle? Thanks.

Oh McDreamy, I’ll be your friend…your very, very best friend.

The local news just called Tai Shan a celebrity. If he is a “celebrity”, can we get him on the next Dancing with the Stars? I mean how many people would vote for a panda?

Shiiiiit, it’s about time George apologized to nolips girl. How does someone without any lips get on the pretty people TV show? I’m just sayin.

G’night. I like wine.
And ice cream.

*You see, I had watched some America’s Test Kitchen earlier and they made a seemingly easy dish with some white wine in it. Since I just happened to have a bottle of white handy, I decided to try the recipe. It ended up being a so-so dinner, but now I was left with a 3/4 full, open bottle of Chardonnay. Shit. Who the hell is going to drink that ? (you see, I am a red wine girl) Well, it smelled good going in with the chicken, so I decided to pour myself a little bit. Yeah, I no longer have a 3/4 full, open bottle of Chardonnay. Conclusion? There is a wine stealer on the loose people, close your wine cabinets! Beware!