Spittin' (out words) Like a Llama

The National Parking Registry

2012-01-11T19:02:00.004-05:00

Actual quote I saw somewhere today in the "opinions" type section of a newspaper: "If you are are handicapped enough to be able to use the handicapped parking space, it should be able to be seen when you get out of the car."

Oh, boy. I started laughing out loud (literally) all over again as I typed it. I can't even begin to write about all the things wrong with that statement, so instead, in cases of cardiovascular disorders or chemotherapy, etc. that might make a person need a handicap permit when not visible, I offer some "ideas":

My first thought would be that we could brand anyone with said need like cattle, but then again, that wouldn't solve the "visibility problem" unless we didn't allow them to wear pants. This would, however, create an entirely new visibility problem. The answer might be uniforms, but we would, of course, not want to hinder anyone's freedom of expression here. Just because we need proof of someone's medical history doesn't mean we should take away their right to show off their personality with a pair of snazzy sneakers or those nice velour pants with the word "juicy" screen-printed across the rear end.

No, I think the answer lies in tags. We can call them "Passes." And when I say tags, I mean something like this:

Now, now. I know what you must be thinking. "Colby, that's a bird tag!" Pass. Bird tag. Pah-tay-toe, poh-tah-toe. Point is, we'd no longer have to be concerned about those sneaky cancer patients hiding their cancer, or those crafty cardiac sufferers keeping their pacemakers all secret inside their bodies or not wearing sandwich boards to describe their list of medications. We will smoke them out, and we will prevail. And why? Because walking past that extra, empty handicapped parking spot makes us angry, and anger causes high blood pressure, which we already have enough of. We found out after our elevator ride up to the doctor's office right after that guy at KFC gave us a 10 piece instead of a 12.

So, if you could reply to that particular post, what would you say?

On This Momentous Occasion

2012-01-08T15:21:00.004-05:00

Once upon a time in May of 2009, something happened that will live in infamy on this blog for all time.

Now, several years and a dozen apologies later, the day has come. It is an important day for this blog. It is a day to be celebrated by all with much merriment and rejoicing.

It is the day that Janna got her video.

Fun fact: Back here, Janna was apologized to in the original posting of Fred's debut blog appearance.

Janna is on a blogging break at the moment, but do put her on your to-read list, or pay her a visit at Something She Wrote!

What shocks you most about Janna? *giggle*

A Mildly Sarcastic New Year: Armageddon Edition

2011-12-29T17:42:00.021-05:00

It's that time again for me to reflect back on the past year and let you know what I've learned. Since according to some, this is our last year on earth, and since those types of predictions nearly never go wrong (*cough* Camping! *cough*), I better get these out as soon as possible. *Ahem*. In 2011, I learned:

*Real friends will break out their best skulls for you.

*Anytime someone tells you you get to dress like Jessica Rabbit, do NOT ask questions, because it is always a good thing.

*In the same rite, if you want badly enough to, you can dress like a snake. That is, if you have someone in your life willing to make you a snake dress.

*Stupid people are stupid and will remain so until the end of time

. The same is true for the ugly. (Yes, ugly people exist. It's true.)

*If you wear black wings and are covered in blood chasing someone, passers by will look at you worriedly.

*Feel the railroad tracks before you run on them.

*You can be a supervillain even if you don't know you're one.

*Determination is key when you want snow in Georgia.

*The words violet and violent are

different only by one letter. It is no coincidence.

*You can say some thing that have absolutely no meaning and scare the bejeezus out of people.

*If you're going to drink and sticker, be sure you're prepared for the results.

*One person's trash is another security guard's moonlighting job.

*Lifetime can make a movie out of anything.

*The definition of a good catch.

*Long division is a skill that is completely unnecessary in most of the adult population.

*It's called a death drop for a really good reason.

*Shoot to kill unless you're shooting pool.

*Some people aren't good at debates.

*Don't let your cat near your milk near your laptop.

That's about it for the moment! What did you learn this year?

Santa Likes to Boogie

2011-12-25T22:27:00.002-05:00

Merry Christmas, Blog Club! On Christmas, here's a fun ballroom practice video with a fun Christmas song! Hope you enjoy it!

What's your favorite Christmas tune?

Serious Sunday: Kekah-Boo

2011-12-18T14:07:00.000-05:00

One of my last memories of her is of watching my own tears drip onto her ears. I remember saying something like, “If you need to go, Booey, I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I love you. I love you so much. I keep trying to think of things to say, but that’s the only thing that’ll come out.”

And then, a few hours later, just as gentle as her little spirit came into my life, she was gone.

Since that day a few weeks ago, I’ve tried to write this post, but every time I try, it wouldn’t come out, just like the night she died. After all, how do you say goodbye to a best friend? Can there really be a goodbye that fits everything they were—are—to you?

I started calling her Boo the day she came. Her name was Kekah. She was named by Canine Companions for Independence, the group I was raising her for. But Kekah-boo sounded like peek-a-boo, so it stuck as her nickname. After that, everything she did was deemed “Boo-like.” Which, I don’t know if you’ve ever known a Boo, but in case you haven’t, here is what one is like:

A combination of Pooh and Eeyore, a Boo is part sad puppy eyes, part clingy baby, part loving companion, part silly soul. It is cautiously playful, incredibly smart, and deliberately slow. Boos are old souls and young at heart at the same time—dangerously dependent and partly sarcastic.

Kekah was a dog with a personality that isn’t what most people think of when they think of dogs. She didn’t have that crazy chase-the-ball energy of some, and she didn’t have that jolly, carefree way about her so many do. I think it’s the reason she and I bonded the way we did. She was cynical, but she was also happy and light…just like me.

She went through many stages of my life with me, lived with me in every home I’ve been in as an adult. Even as she got sicker and sicker toward the end, her doctors and technicians at GVS would always tell me how she was “the sweetest dog they’d ever met.”

In the days following her death, I’ve thought a lot about how so many people don’t understand why I’d pay for a dog to have chemotherapy. They are unsure why I grieve for her so much after losing her. To them, pets are just pets. Kekah was just a dog.

Just a dog.

Just a dog meant being the first thing I saw when I woke up and the last thing I saw before I went to sleep. Just a dog meant laying her head in my lap when I was sad, and wagging her tail when she could feel I was happy. Just a dog meant making me laugh and being a member of my family, an important member who can never ever be replaced. If that’s what it means to be “just a dog,” then I hope I can live my life to be “just a dog.” After all, I can’t think of any being with truer spirit and a more special brand of love and affection than just a dog. Unless, of course, it is a dog that is a Boo.

The War on Terror- aka "Happy Holidays"

2011-12-13T12:32:00.003-05:00

What is it about "Happy Holidays" that gets everyone into such an uproar? Maybe it's just because I live in the South, but around here, saying, "Happy Holidays," instead of, "Merry Christmas," is a huge bone of contention. You see, there is a rumor about that someone has started taking the Christ out of Christmas.

Now, believe me, I was as surprised as you are! Last I heard, "Silent Night" was still sung in conjunction with Christmas, and nativity scenes are abundant, even if they are right next to Rudolph in the giant excessive Christmas light display next door. (Side note: No, seriously...the light up nativity is next to a Snow Man, but who's counting?)

And yet...

In some cases, Santa is even brought into the mix. When he is, he is either pissed...

or insulted...

Oh, yeah, Santa, you selfish bastard! Take that! I'm so glad someone had the guts to say this. I would really hate to think kids would enjoy Christmas without someone to point out to them that Santa is really just a sad excuse for a human. I mean, sure, he brings them toys, but that's really only because he isn't brave enough to take one for the team. Oh, really, Santa? You love us? Two words for you, Santa: prove it.

For me, I think Santa's just around to bolster spirits. I mean, let's look at the facts here. Christmas is a celebration traditionally for the birth of Jesus. Re: Birth = pain, blood, screaming. Then at Easter, we have another Jesus "deathday party," if you will. Re: Crucifixion = pain, blood, screaming (Side note: Not to mention betrayal, abandonment, and that lovely little suicide in the middle of the Easter story). So in my world, Santa is a nice little buffer where Jesus sort of said, "Okay, guys. I know my stories are a little gory, so I've sent Santa to give you all presents on my 'birthday' since I can't get my own presents...because I'm dead. Enjoy."

I personally like this take:

Keep Christ in Christmas, but he can be in the same yard as Frosty.

What do you hope Santa's bringing you this year?

A Very Dysfunctional Christmas

2011-12-10T16:33:00.002-05:00

I stopped doing Christmas cards a while back. It's not that I don't want to do them or like getting them, but I just haven't had time. Still, I'm always excited when I get them in the mail. Even more than Christmas cards, I love the family holiday newsletter. I love it for two reasons: 1. either I genuinely like reading what people in my life are up to or 2. they are so ridiculous that they make for great entertainment. However, I've noticed the trend that people seem to pick the best moments of their year to feature in the holiday letter and nothing more. "Little Sally got all A's on her report card," or "Bob is loving his new, million-dollar-a-year job at Rich People R Us." For once, I'd love to see this letter:

Dear Friends and Family,

Well, it's been another year. I can't believe I've lived through it.

We started off this year with a bang in January. No, seriously...we did. Caught Betty Jane in bed with her boyfriend, unfortunately. Turns out prom isn't the only time you have to worry. The ninth grade dance is just as bad. Through us for a loop, but we made sure we got her protection from then on.

In February, we found out we were a little to late. No, seriously...we were. Betty Jane missed her period. Guess we should've bought her the condoms a long time ago. Shit.

In the spring, things were looking up. After being fired on Christmas Eve last year, Bob finally got a new job. Sure, it's doing the same thing he was doing before for less pay, but at least now we can support his cigarette habit without me having to sell my rare beanie baby collection.

The rest of the year was a bit of a blur. Sally got detention nineteen times, but we mostly attribute this to a teacher that doesn't like her and the fact that she's not cute enough to worm her way out of it. Bob got fired again and is currently on the hunt for a new job. Who knew there was a three drink only rule when you're doing elevator maintenance? Betty Jane's pregnancy progressed nicely, and lucky for us, the current jean size I wear to cover the spare tire around my waist was just the right size "fat."

Betty gave birth in October to a little girl (God, help us), and she named her Blessing. (Yeah, I know. Obnoxious, right? Next time, I'm imposing a "only people over driving age can name the baby, even if you birthed the thing). Three jobs later, Bob is now running the carousel at the local mall and nursing a healthy alcohol problem. Sally's still in detention every other day, but I guess it's a good thing, because if she was home more, we'd probably get sick of her and finally let it slip that she's adopted.

As for me, I'm doing all right. I'm still working the same old job at the Dollars and Dimes register, and I'm saving for a family vacation to Alaska next decade. Meanwhile, I deal with my disappointing daughters and my husband's neglect by indulging in my two favorite hobbies: ebay and eating.

We hope your year has been as eventful as ours. Happy New Year!

Love,

Jill, Bob, Betty Jane, Sally, and that baby whose name I swore I wouldn't type twice in one letter

What would you include in a letter about your family this year?

If You Can't Take the Heat, Get Out of the Bedroom

2011-12-06T13:42:00.004-05:00

Dearest Blog Club: what you're about to read will repulse you. If it does not, seek professional help immediately.

Quite some time ago, I read a news article that sounded like prime blog fodder, and I've somehow not written about it until now. Perhaps it's because I tried to block it out. Anyway, today, it resurfaced, so I feel it's the time to make you aware of this:

Now, I'm not one to knock a book before I've read it, so I picked it up and read the thing. I can't even begin to point out all the crazy in this thing. First of all, it works like this: when the man wants to have sex with his wife, he drops one of his forty beads into the bowl. Within 24 hours, she has to have sex with him. This supposedly makes a man feel better about his sex life because his wife is a "sure thing." She even says at a point her husband walks taller in his shoes because his friends know he's getting laid. Um, yeah. I'm sure the way she goes around telling everyone in a BOOK how she didn't want to have sex with her husband/desire it is really upping his self-esteem. I'm sure his pals don't kid him at ALL.

Oh, and did I mention he is only allowed to drop a bead every 3 days, max? She has to "recover" and would never survive if it was daily. That's part of the "Bead Covenant" that goes with this --erm--"special" little system.

Now, you're probably asking, "If a man is the one dropping the beads and getting laid a lot (ie, every 3 days...max), what does the wife (who of COURSE doesn't like sex...she's a woman, for goddsakes!) get out of the deal?" Well, I'm glad you asked that! The reason for giving your man these forty beads is because if he is properly sexed, which, according to her, is the most important thing in life to him, he will "behave" better for her. He will start to do dishes, fold the laundry, and help with chores. Oh, yeah.

And in case you'r wondering why women can't drop beads, Carolyn can answer that. She gives the women three nudge cards in case they're ever in the mood and need to "nudge" their man. Why three? Because obviously since women hate sex, three should more than cover that rare occasion, one that Carolyn admits in the book she's never had--she's never used a nudge card.

So, I went over to her blog one day to read an article I saw on twitter, and I commented on it, because in said article, she talked about how the naysayers have simply, "never read the book and so don't understand what the method is about." So, I commented that wasn't the case, that I'd read the book and thought it did nothing but perpetuate awful stereotypes. Wouldn't you know that my comment was never published (she moderates all comments)? Which, that's why I decided to blog about it here, because don't make wild claims that the only people who think this "brilliant method" of hers is silly haven't read the book and then not publish comments from people who clearly have. If you can't stand the heat, get out of the bedroom.

/end rant.

What do you suppose happens when the forty beads are used up?

Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep

2011-11-23T16:31:00.006-05:00

In the show I'm currently choreographing (White Christmas), there is a song with the lyrics:

"If you're worried and you can't sleep,

just count your blessings instead of sheep,

and you'll fall asleep

counting your blessings."

So, on Thanksgiving Eve, I thought I'd count my blessings a little bit myself. This year...

I'm thankful for heartbreak, because from heartbreak comes healing.

I'm thankful for family, because family makes our loads ten times lighter and our joys ten times better.

I'm thankful for mistakes, because mistakes lead to understanding.

I'm thankful for forgiveness, because without it, no one could make those mistakes.

I'm thankful for passion, because without passion, my heart couldn't dance.

I'm thankful for taking wrong steps, because they show me how to take the right ones.

I'm thankful for love, and how it can be found in the most unexpected places.

I'm thankful for new friends, because you never know who might come into your life at just the time you need them most.

I'm thankful that the most special kinds of friendships can span across states and states, b

ecause without those, I would be lost.

I'm thankful for David--I'm thankful for falling in love with a best friend, and I'm even more thankful he fell in love with me. I'm thankful he understands where I'm going and where I've been, that he fell in love with me at maybe my worst, and that it was okay to take my time to pull myself away from that.

I'm thankful for my Mom, Dad, sister, and Herbie--this crazy family I couldn't have more

fun with and want any more to call my own.

I'm thankful for Ashlee--there's no one on this earth I would rather call my best friend,

my twin, and my soul mate. We are the kind of girlfriends I think you come across once in lifetime. And I'm thankful for JP, because if she'd married someone who didn't understand us, we'd be royally screwed.

I'm thankful for Meg, my confidante and my comic.

For Danielle, my costumer and cupcaker. For Lizzie, my wildife partner in crime and sounding board.

For Will, my dance partner, friend, and one of the most calming influences in my life.

I'm thankful for the opportunities I've had this year as a writer, dancer, choreographer, and everything in between. I'm thankful to have a chance to showcase my work and share my art with the world.

Last but not least, I'm thankful for the time I had with my beautiful labrador, Kekah, who passed away November 13. I'll be doing a memorial post about her soon, but for now, suffice it to say I'm so greatful I had what little time I did with her, because she, even as a dog, taught me so much about life and love.

Happy Thanksgiving, Blog Club. What are you thankful for today?

What the...: The Candy Caper

2011-11-05T14:54:00.005-04:00

Blog Club, I know you know I hate dentists. I have made this fact abundantly clear. However, this past Monday--Halloween--I saw something that confirmed what I already suspected. No matter what they'd like you to think, dentists are not our friends. I offer to you exhibit A- a sign posted by a local dentist's office (Side note: the name has been blacked out to protect the innocent/to protect me from evil, bloodthirsty dentists):

Candy buy back? What. The. Heck.

Okay, let me back up here. Candy buy back? You're kidding me, right? "Hey, kids! You know what would be fun? Taking BACK your candy! And we'll give you a WHOLE dollar...per pound." Um, I don't know about you guys, but that seems like a rip off to me. I'm not sure how much candy kids are clearing during trick-or-treat these days, but I doubt it's a lot more than one pound. So, at best, they're selling back their candy (and their souls) for a measly buck and some change. And for what? Half of those kids trick-or-treating still have their baby teeth, anyway. What good are they if you can't rot them just a little bit? And the ones who have "big teeth," well, if one night of candy is going to ruin them, they probably weren't in great shape in the first place.

So, dentists, in conclusion (and in case you haven't caught the drift here), this sign does one thing for you: it teaches kids that you are lame. (Side note: Not to mention the fact that I haven't even touched on the whole business sense aspect of your sign. Don't you make money off of filling cavities those sugar-filled Halloween snacks cause? So you're lame and not so smart, but I digress...)

Did you dress up for Halloween? Did you keep your candy or sell it back?

Animal Cool-ety: You Big Baby

2011-10-27T15:21:00.005-04:00

Some animals are cute, so you feel protective of them and their cuteness. No one really wants to hurt a box of labrador puppies, right? Other animals are so ugly that it's almost unfair, how easy someone would harm them (wild hog helicopter hunting, anyone?). Then, there's this:

That's right, Blog Club. I'm talking about the bush baby.

It's brilliant, actually. This thing has worked up the perfect defensive mechanism: use your ridiculously huge eyes and cute little nose to look like something relatively cute, but that could otherwise be tipped either way...then call yourself something like, "bush baby" to influence that very ambiguous cute factor of yours to make everyone assume you are cute. "He's a baby!"

they'll fawn. "We must love him! Protect him!"

Here's where my problem comes in, though. This seems incredibly deceptive to me. Is this creature actually cute, so I want to be protective of his cuteness and thus, his brilliance is acceptable? Or, is he not adorable, and so his brilliance is actually evil and to be shunned? And I answer myself: that little thing is your worst f***ing nightmare. (And I don't mean that good, Matt Damon kind, either.)

Think about it. Is your guard down? Are you assuming he's harmless? Are you ready to fix

him a little nest beside your bed to sleep in and let him surf on your laptop while you're not home? Exactly. That's what he wants you to feel.

So, while you're off buying him a new green sweater vest and rain boots to match, he's at home, going through you e-mail, reading your diary, and collecting your social security

information. You might even come home and catch him in the act. But you know what? You won't call him out. He'll widen those big "baby" eyes, curl his weird little fingers around your hand, and before you know it, you'll give him a full book of blank checks to "play with." He's a dangerous little thing, this bush baby.

Cool-ety rating? NOT cool. He is ambushing you. Consider yourself bushwacked. Run...don't walk...away from this terrifying monster!

What do you think? Bush baby: friend or foe?

I Don't Care WHAT You Do With It!

2011-10-21T00:40:00.003-04:00

Do you ever get in those, "I just don't give a f***" moods? Yeah, I've been in that mood recently. Not sure if you've been in that mood before? Brilliant! Because I'm here to help, Blog Club! I know this mood well, so I am prepared to present to you the Top Ten Ways to Know You're in an I Just Don't Give a F*** Mood:

10.) Your boss pulls one of those "favors" only bosses can get away with and asks you to wash his car. So, you do...with neon green paint.

9.) You go through the drive through at McDonalds and order a cheeseburger. They ask you would you like anything else, and you reply, "Yes, a restaurant that serves freaking cheeseburgers."

8.) You meet the mailman, who routinely puts mail in your box that is for an address on a different street, at your mailbox one day holding a sign that says, "This is Park Avenue. Hickory Avenue is that way."

7.) The next day, when the previous sign doesn't work, you meet the mailman at your mailbox with a pamphlet on adult literacy programs at the local community college.

6.) You tell the kid who lives next door you'll give him five dollars if he'll sit in the room with his parents one night while they're screaming to transcribe their argument, and when asked what he's doing, to say, "Mrs. Smith paid me five dollars to write this down so she can know what's so important that you're keeping her from watching Leno for."

5.) You arrive at a fast food restaurant 3 minutes late for the breakfast menu and they refuse to serve you breakfast. So, you order the biggest meal you can conceive of for them to prepare, then leave the drive through line entirely while they get it ready.

4.) You spill coffee all over the place one morning, but instead of cleaning it up, you grab a towel/sweatshirt/pet to throw over it so you can't see it anymore.

3.) Two words: daytime flask.

2.) You post, "Leave me alone or die," as your facebook status.

And the number one way to know if you're in an I don't give a f*** mood:

Someone comes up to you with a handful of tiny things they found on the floor, tells you it's trash, and asks you what to do with it, and you respond, "I don't know, you shove it up your BLEEEEEEP for starters..."

Yeah, can you guys tell I've had a long day? What are your responses to people like when you're having "I've been pushed too far" sort of a day?

Some Things

2011-10-17T11:42:00.003-04:00

Starring me, as both me and Ashlee, a little gift for my twin, my best friend in the world...Happy Birthday (one day late), Ashlee!

And a special thank you to Lizzie for help with filming- meant to put it in the vid and didn't somehow. But I appreciate it!

Who is your best friend?

Serious Sunday: Google Tabs

2011-10-09T16:36:00.002-04:00

Since it's Sunday, I'm being serious. (Side note: I make a point to only do this once a week on the blog. It's much more helpful in maintaining high levels of nonsense). But here's the shocker: in real life, I'm serious loads of the time. Yep. I said it.

I'm a worrier, which I may have discussed on the blog before. I worry about anything and everything. Today, however, I've worried lots about what to do with my Sunday. After all, I finished the first draft of my current manuscript, I'm in between choreography for another good ten(ish) days, and I'm putting off the mundane until Monday. So, here I am on Sunday, with a question of what the heck to do.

Now, it's not the problem you might think it is. I'm certainly not "bored." The problem is, I've put off doing anything purely for the enjoyment of it for so long that now, I have a huge list of things I'd love to do, and I can't decide which one to go with!

The answer? More open Google tabs than any single person can manage.

This is a whole new problem of its very own! So many tabs! So, I want your opinions, Blog Club: is it better to do a little of everything or a lot of one thing? I'm curious what all of you do with your free time. (Besides read other blogs, that is!)

The Last Supper

2011-10-03T16:28:00.004-04:00

Hello, Blog Club! Before the post, a note: I have updated the Blog Roll at the side (*jabs finger*). If you're supposed to be on there and aren't, please let me know. If you're not on there and would like to be, do the same. If you would like to buy a vowel, please send me $200. Now, on to the post!

I recently read something about Texas no longer allowing death row inmates a choice of "last meal" before execution as a result of some inmates making bizarre and outlandishly expensive requests. The halt to this long-standing practice came after an inmate apparently ordered a huge meal, including two chicken fried steaks, fajitas, fried okra, Blue Bell ice cream, peanut brittle, and a host of other stuff I can't remember or be bothered to look up. Then, alas, he declined to eat the meal when it was brought to him. This set off anger that could just not be appeased with lethal injection, causing a senator to ask the state to stop honoring last meal requests.

Now, I don't know how I feel about the whole thing. I don't even (entirely) know how I feel about the death penalty. But I do know that upon studying this issue, it seems we are missing a very lovely opportunity for every day humor in the world.

That's right, Blog Club. I'm talking about a Death Row Menu.

It would be the perfect answer! The soon-to-be-executed still get some choice of their last food, thus freeing the guilty consciences of undecideds everywhere (because hey, if you kill a guy and give him his favorite bucket of chicken first, even if it turns out he was innocent, killing him with his favorite bucket of chicken is better than killing him without it!) but are limited to a small selection of pre-determined foods. This way, the state doesn't go (more) broke trying to find the limited edition strawberry oreos that Nabisco only put out so they could make you forever chase further limited edition oreos in hopes they'd be the same.

But the greatest part is, like any good niche restuarant, the menu titles could be killer (pun entirely intended). Can't you see it? That inmate's order would've been a lot more fun to read about if he'd ordered "My Ass is Fried Okra" or "I'm About to Be on Ice Cream." And you know what? I think the inmates would get a kick out of it, too. I like to think they haven't been robbed of their sense of humor. I mean, come on...they're killers, not Republicans! (Side note: and if you're Republican, as soon as you recover from your ire at that statement, please insert "Democrats" into previous sentence and reread. Thanks.)

What do you think? Should death row choose its last supper, or should they eat the meal everyone else does on the "big day"?

Anything but Work

2011-09-25T23:10:00.000-04:00

First thing's first: I have a small announcement to make. After years of cutting up on this blog as a less serious outlet for writing, I've finally been talked into starting a writing blog. If you're interested in my writing process, thrillers, women's fiction, etc., come on over and join me at Sugar and Spice and Bodies on Ice. I will, however, still be around here to laugh with you guys on the regular! Now, on to the post!

Imagine, if you will, you've just run into an acquaintance at the grocery store or movie theatre. You stand there awkwardly after saying hello. Because this person apparently doesn't have any more of a clue what to say to you than you do to them, you attempt to avoid the awful,uncomfortable moment by inserting the obligatory, "So, what have you been up to lately?"

And Blog Club, how many times do you get this answer: "Oh, just workin'."

Suddenly, the conversation is not only awkward, but your valiant attempt to keep things flowing has been brought to a screeching halt by the horrible "same ole, same ole" curve ball. Don't these people know they need to give an answer that will allow the hot potato of conversation to flit back and forth between you? A little give and take? Apparently not.

That is why I am pleased to present to you the Top Ten Conversation Starters to Replace "What have you been up to lately?"

10.) So, what do you think of Abraham Lincoln?

9.) When you go to the bathroom, where do you look...the wall or the floor?

8.) How many times do you say the word “that” on a given day?

7.) If you had to be any of the cohosts on The View, who would you be and why?

6.) Can I have your socks?

5.) Where in the world is Carmen San Diego?

4.) If you had to guess, how many gallons of ketchup would you think you will consume, total, before you die?

3.) Do you have any grey poupan?

2.) Hablo Ingles?

And the Number one conversation starter to replace, "So, what've you been up to lately?":

So, what would you be up to these days if you weren't always working?

Did I miss any good ones?

Burn Notice

2011-09-19T16:50:00.004-04:00

Do you ever hear people say things that don't make sense? I do. A lot. There are lots of expressions that have absolutely no founding whatsoever. For example, "It's hotter than hell out here." Well, that may be true, but we don't know how hot hell is, do we? Perhaps hell is a mild 76 degrees and overcast. Then, there's the popular, "That tastes like crap." I don't know about you, but I don't have any experiences to draw on where that's concerned. But here's one that isn't exactly like the previous two examples, yet still, it's something I don't understand at all...

"She's in labor!"

"Quick, someone boil some water!"

All right, all right. In Camelot, maybe they boiled water to sterilize instruments for the delivery. Today, though? Why do people still say that? This has me thinking: all those people who say, "boil some water," haven't exactly thought this through, now have they?

What are they intending to do with this water? Are they going to toss it on the baby as it comes out? "Welcome to the world! Surprise! You're scalded and deformed for life! Yay!" Perhaps they intend to cook the baby. I envision a giant Hocus Pocus-style pot, and the doctor holding the child high proclaiming, "Tonight, we feast!"

Or maybe they plan for the baby to be exceptionally thirsty when he arrives, but they're afraid their water supply is contaminated. Yes. That makes sense. That baby is so demanding. He wants his fresh water, and he wants it now! It's, of course, entirely possible that it's a sort of sacred tradition, like how a bride used to present a dowry. The new family presents...a pot of boiling...water...to the...baby. Yeah. I'm not sure where I'm going with that.

And on that note, I'm going to slowly tiptoe away to work on...a new video! Coming soon to a blog near you!

Say Hello to My Little Friend!

2011-09-14T13:15:00.003-04:00

I'm here today to talk to you, Blog Club, about a HUGE problem facing our society today that you may not be aware of. Over two million feral hogs are roaming the Texas countryside. Vicious. Terrifying. And no doubt one of the most worrisome issues of the day second only to nuclear war.

Well, not anymore. This summer, a law was passed to combat this serious issue in a serious way. As of this summer, it is now legal to shoot these fearsome beasts at will.

From helicopters.

Now, I know what you may be thinking. Colby, why should I shoot my hog from a helicopter rather than say, the ground or an automobile? And the answer is simple: because it's not as awesome, mother f***er! (Side note: yeah, sorry, I couldn't help that last. The mere thought of flying over open land and poppin' some caps in some free range hog asses just got me JACKED UP.)

This is a step in the right direction, Americans. It's telling those hogs we're mad as hell, and we're not gonna take it anymore! It's sending a message, Blog Club. We will not tolerate pigs, and we will also not tolerate pigs being shot in anything less than the most exorbitant, outlandish, and impressive way possible. After all, should we do anything less, we risk looking weak/pig riot/someone questioning the penis size of the shooters. It is imperative we not reveal any soft spot they can penetrate.

But Colby! What about the state of the economy? Isn't it less than prudent to use so much fuel to use helicopters? And I answer you: DUH! But what is the cost of millions of dollars when it means the end of the horror of rooting pigs? You might think we need healthcare, fine arts in schools, and cancer research, but we don't. What we need most is pig reform, and we need it now! We have tried using diplomacy with these pigs! They will not listen! They are relentless, and so shall we be!

So, in conclusion, Blog Club, the year of the pigs is over. The time of the preposterous hunter has come! The only question in my mind that remains is why we haven't thought of this before now!

What say you, Blog Club? Can we find an even MORE awesome way to mercilessly show these swine their place?

A New Tutorial

2011-09-08T23:50:00.000-04:00

I was reading a post from way back where I did a short tutorial on how to tell the difference between something badass and something not so badass. It was fun, and I thought I might re-visit that idea! So, in case it is sometimes hard for you to surmise what is badass and what is not, here are a few examples to help out! *Ahem*

Wedding cake for avid video gamers that is badass:

Wedding cake for avid video gamers that is NOT badass:

Badass dragon bicycle:

Dragon bicycle that is not-so-badass:

Mascot with fake arms that is oh-so-badass:

Mascot with fake arms that is oh-so-far-FROM-badass:

Seriously badass cat:

Seriously fatass cat:

The baddest unicorn of them all:

Just plain bad:

And that's our lesson for today. Any questions?

Serious Sunday: Takin' Care of Business

2011-09-04T16:51:00.003-04:00

Before the post, I must attend to a little bit of business!

Numero uno: I'm cleaning up the Blog Roll (*jabs finger at right*). If you're a regular around here (or would like to be!) and would like to be kept on/put on the new Blog Club Crescent Roll, please make sure to leave a comment today! I'm planning to update the blog roll this week.

Number two: Blog Club Chief of Staff Ashlee and I have started a new blog over at We Are Twins, Zat is Why, and we'd love you to come by and check it out sometime. It's basically what happens when two best friends used to seeing each other every day are suddenly separated by about seven states. Crazy, dysfunctional, and (we hope) lots of fun! Now, on to the post!

Today's Serious Sunday has me thinking a lot about personal convictions and questions. That said, my first thought is that I believe in believing. It sounds like an easy concept, but then again, it's not. Because for me, I have trouble with the concept of "blind faith."

I think there are things you can believe in and not see. Love, for example. It's not something you can see visually. There's no meter next to someone's heart that will register a reading each time they see someone of how much they love them. However, I don't believe you can believe someone loves you without evidence. If someone loves you, you feel it in the way they act, the words they say. It isn't "just there."

It's the same with blind faith to me. I think there are things you can believe in that you can't see, but I think there has to be a reason you believe, a reason you put your faith where you do. To me, if you can't openly question your beliefs and still come up with the same answer, then there's something wrong. I've never had questions steer me wrong. Sometimes I don't come up with the answer I thought I would, and it forces me to think hard about my belief and whether or not it is prudent to me to hold fast to that belief or not. I've always been taught that the truth has nothing to fear, which is why I subscribe to the idea that if something is true, it will stand up to questioning.

What about you? Do you think if the mind and heart isn't open to any questions, that it signifies the purest of faith, or does it reveal underlying insecurity that the answers?

Vanity Run Amok

2011-09-01T15:33:00.006-04:00

I may have blogged about this before. If I haven't (or if I have, for that matter), here it comes: what is up with this whole vanity run amok thing? I started thinking about it yesterday when the whole uproar on twitter began over this shirt being sold at JC Penney's that says, "I'm too pretty to do homework, so my brother has to do it for me." And ladies and gentleman, I've come to a big conclusion: that whole "be yourself" thing? We've preached it a little too much.

Here's the thing: you guys know me. I like to go against the grain, do my own thing. However, at some point, I started to see kids go from, "I'm okay with me, so if you don't like me, I'm okay with that," to "Look at me! I AM fabulous! I AM the best thing ever! And if you don't like that, CRAM IT IN YOUR CRAM HOLE, because YOU are

an IDIOT! I am freaking AWESOME!" Somewhere along the line, kids starting turning, "You can be whatever you want to be," into, "You can do anything you want to do, including but not limited to acting like an ass."

I think this quote from www.portrait-artist.org said it best to me: "While having self-esteem is a great thing, it is possible to have too much of a great thing! You shouldn't have so much self-esteem that you assume that whatever flows from your talented fingers will be automatically brilliant. It rarely works this way. A person with an ego this large will eventually face the harsh truth - they aren't all that fabulous all the time. Nobody is. They need to put some hard work into developing their talent. They need to be able to accept criticism. They need to ste

adfastly believe in themselves, while always realizing that there is room for improvement."

The shirt is evidence to some degree to me. JC Penney was marketing it with the tag, "She'll love this tee that's just as cute and sassy as she is." Since when is being a raging narcissist cute? Oop. Let me rephrase that. Since when is being a stupid raging narcissist cute? (Side note: by definition, the word "sassy" means rude and disrespectful; impudent. Definitely a selling point!)

What do you think? Is it possible that in trying to boost sense of self and the thought that it's okay to be different that society has unwittingly told people it's okay to be awful?

If the Sloth Fits...

2011-08-26T15:57:00.007-04:00

I've talked about a lot of animals on this blog. Some of these get a bad rap (the "killer" whale). Others aren't nearly bad-mouthed enough (like the rabbit in this post). But today, friends, I think I've found the king of the animals who has an awful reputation, and who, if he wasn't an animal without a voice capable of language and without opposable thumbs, would most likely make a great case for a politically correct version of the Bible to be written (Side note: Then again, I'm not entirely sure that is possible. But I digress...).

That said, the sloths are pissed.

He's somehow named after one of the seven deadly sins--or it named for him, I'm not sure. Talk about depression. Talk about being set up for failure. And aren't there worse animals than him?Lazier animals? Come on! He's heard of some domesticated dogs that sleep all day. And what do they get? They're "man's best friend."

And don't even get him started on snakes. Oh, no. Don't even. God himself (or those bunch of dudes he had write the Bible) said the snake was involved in original sin. Alas, though, the serpent is not a sin. No. Instead, he is chilling out on the symbol of medical professionals everywhere, as well as making frequent film appearances in the Harry Potter franchise among others. While he's rakin' in the dough, the sloth has to sit around, thinking about how he is doomed to a life of three toes and the Vatican's hatred (Side note: those flippin' cardinals must've traded sexual bird favors to come out of the thing with the namesake they did).

It's hurtful. Just because he's missing a few toes doesn't mean he's missing the capacity to feel pain. All he ever wanted was to be loved, and yet, he is shunned.

Oh, what? You're sorry? You feel bad that you've always assumed the sloth was slow? You don't want him to be a sin anymore? Well, don't worry. It's too late for your empathy. He doesn't want your compassion. Sloth thinks if everyone wanted him to

be a sin, perhaps he shall.

What do you think? Is there a better animal to have named a sin after?

You Really Can't Touch This

2011-08-18T23:28:00.005-04:00

At long last, here it is.

PS: Janna, I swear, I really haven't forgotten about you.

PPS: Blog Club, please leave suggestions for future videos in the comment section! We'd love to hear what you think!

Facebook Official

2011-08-13T20:22:00.004-04:00

So, I became facebook official today.

I preface this entire blog with saying I wanted to. But...

This got me to thinking how bizarre the entire concept is. Within minutes of my boyfriend sending telling me he sent me the "thingie," I received an e-mail that said, "Please confirm that you are in a relationship..."

Now, I realize this topic has probably been blogged to death, but consider this another nail in the coffin. It made me think about friend requests, and how they really ought to be called "Acquaintance Requests" or "I Vaguely Know Your Name From Somewhere Requests." After all, what exactly are the criteria for facebook friends? I know there are some people on my facebook friends list who I'm actually friends with. There are lots of people on there I know. There are some people on my facebook I've never hung out with in person yet know better than the people I have hung out with in person.

Therefore, I've determined this helpful guide for you to consult should you ever have trouble determining whether or not to click "confirm" on that friend request that's just dropped into your inbox!

Question 1: Could you pick the person who has "friended" you out of a lineup? If the answer is yes, proceed to question 4. If the answer is no, proceed to question 2.

Question 2: Have you "met" this person online in a setting that does not involve internet dating? If the answer is yes, proceed to question 4. If the answer is no, proceed to question 3.

Question 3: Have you vetted this person to find out if he or she is in fact the real person he or she says she is and is not, in fact, a 5,000 pound snuff-film maker? If the answer is yes, proceed to question 4. If the answer is no, you might want to go ahead and check into that snuff film thing.

Question 4: Do you know more about this person than their first name and (maybe) where the two of you met? If the answer is yes, you may proceed. If the answer is no and you still don't know whether to confirm or decline, then I don't really think I can help you here. Go ahead and confirm, then go ahead and send your major credit card numbers. I'm sure it'll be fine.

Question 5: Do you loathe and/or wish you could forget this person? If the answer to this question is no, proceed to question six. If the answer is yes, send a message to this person and ask for an address to which you may send a basket of rotten fruit and/or a list of grievances.

Question 6: (Wow, this is shocking) Are you friends with this person?

Yep. I know. It seems so obvious! I don't know why I didn't think of it before! I should be friends with my facebook friends! GASP! (Side note: I am, alas, not sure what this means for friends of my mother, my aunt, and my second cousin's dog.)

What's that you say? You're not friends with someone, but you want to act like you're friends anyway because you know their name from seeing them walking in five foot proximity to someone you know/you've heard their name on the News/you went to college with their bff from first grade?

Well, this is a phenomenon known to many, some of the most famous of them Lady Gaga, Hugh Hefner, Ashton Kutcher, Barbara Walters, and Oprah Winfrey. How they dealt with it? Twitter.

Leave it in the comments: how do you decide who to confirm as "facebook friends"?

Serious Sunday: My Friends are Cooler than Wilford Brimley's Thighs

2011-08-07T17:58:00.004-04:00

I start this blog with a warning, Blog Club: the next video is coming.

It's nearly complete, and it will be coming to a blog near you very, very soon. But, on this Sunday, as I think about getting ready to unleash this crazy, fun, ridiculous, time-wasting, hilarious music vid on the world, I had to pause and reflect on some of my favorite moments during the filming of it, all of which make me think to myself, "Wow. I am surrounded by the most awesome people ever." Thus, I present to you the Top Ten Quotes During the Filming of the "Untouchable" Blog Video:

10.) "Are beets in season?" -David

9.) "I have a crimping iron." -Danielle

8.) (Colby gets random picture on cell phone) "Can I wear these?" -Ashlee

7.) "Wait. So, you're going to repeatedly thrust your pelvis?" -me

6.) "Yeah. The ass slap still isn't on time." -David

5.) "Where did I put Jesus again?" -me

4.) "Just shut up and shove me down the hill." -David

3.) "Oh my God, I think a train is coming!" -Lizzie

2.) "The 'love' is kind of the arc on your butt." -Danielle

And the number one thing said during the filming of the "untouchable" blog video:

This is totally paraphrased, because I'm not sure I can recreate this moment, or if it was even said specifically by one person, but it went something like this: "Agh! We're in a graveyard!" -Colby and/or David and/or Lizzie, or all three at once, but with more cursing.

I'm pumped. I hope you are!

Any ideas for the next song?

P.S. Fred, if you're out there, I want you to come be in my next video. My life isn't the same without it.

By the Numbers: An Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat Addition

2011-07-31T22:29:00.006-04:00

As is the case with most shows, I have mixed feelings upon closing. The part of me who likes to be rested, eat things that aren't fast food, and see my regular face rather than hooker make-up is excited at the prospect of once again having my evenings to myself. However, as always, the part of me that loves the feeling of the audience applause, the energy of the other cast members on stage, and the friendships cultivated behind the curtain is a little sad to close the show. However, because I've had a great time performing with some great folks, I'm pleased to present to you what has become a bit of tradition for me. Therefore, I give you JOSEPH...by the numbers!

Number of times the goat legs were found somewhere...randomly: 201

Number of journeys made: 906

Number of times a Cleopatra wig came off during the Elvis number: 1

Number of times said wig was covered by pros: 1

Number of times "Joseph" is said in show: 6,789,900,102

Number of people in Joseph whose real-life names were Joseph/Joe: 2

Number of castmembers who had a real-life name that matched their character name: 1

Number of lighting, water, etc. disasters during the run: 612

Number of epic Canaanite vs. Egyptians battles: 0, to my chagrin

Number of times Tony said something different in the middle of "Canaan Days": 8 (out of 8)

Number of people who could fit behind my brother's wife skirt: 52

Number of people who could fit behind my Potiphar's wife dress: 0

Number of talented cast members: 37

Number of performances in front of packed audiences: 8

Number of days it will take to get "Go, Go, Go Joseph" out of my head: 8,900,305

Number of memories made and good times had with a great cast, crew, and creative team: impossible to count.

Thank you all for a wonderful show. It's been a pleasure to work with you all!

In a Biblical Way

2011-07-28T23:27:00.005-04:00

Hello, Blog Club! I'm in the middle of a show run and having a blast. But I'm stopping in today to run something by you, and it's this: I'm not sure what I think of certain Bible stories. Right now, for example, I'm a cast member in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I play Potiphar's wife, the evil woman who tries to seduce Joseph and gets him jailed when really, it was her all along.

Okay. She might have been evil, but in defense of my character, maybe she wasn't. Maybe she and Joseph were--er--"friends with benefits," and then Joseph tried to throw her under the bus when it made him look bad. (Hey, I've known people like this!). Maybe he just didn't have the proverbial balls to fess up and say, "Okay, Potiphar. You're right. Your wife is hot, and I'm hot, and we got it on. Our bad." But NO, he had it written so she was the bad guy, because the story wouldn't have been nearly as good if Joseph wasn't the innocent character he is. But he wasn't that innocent. He was sort of a jerk...telling his brothers how he dreamed about them all bowing down to him. Heck, I'd sell his butt, too! (Okay, maybe selling him was going a bit far. But I don't blame his brothers for being annoyed as all get out.)

Come to think of it, how about the apostles? If they wrote the Bible, how do we know they were really the apostles and didn't just say they were to make themselves look good? They might have! They were only human, just like Joseph. At least they had the foresight to give themselves more credibility by calling themselves apostles. If it had been me, I might've been inclined to call myself THE postle!

Which Bible story to you have trouble believing more than others? Or are there any you have trouble with?

Too Darn Hot

2011-07-22T14:15:00.004-04:00

It is so hot where I live, the camels are carrying around bottled water. Well, if there were camels they would be carrying bottled water...

There's just something about those moments when you can walk outside for five minutes and come back in and need to change clothes because yours are now so sopping wet from sweat it's like you've jumped into a pool. Which, you were so hot during that five minutes that you would have jumped into said pool if it was right there and/or had not dried up due to the heat. There's something about those days when you can open your door to let the dogs out into the yard to potty and increase your electric bill ten fold, because suddenly, your air conditioner got behind the temperature. When that happens, it's never coming back down.

And speaking of the dogs, there's something about those days when the dogs look over their shoulders at you as they go into the yard as if to say, "Why are you doing this to me? Why do I have to go outside?"

Yep. It's too. Darn. Hot.

How's the weather in your neck of the woods?

Streaming Live

2011-07-19T17:01:00.002-04:00

Today, my thoughts are jumbled. Because of this, I decided it might be fun to do a short experiment on the blog to see how exactly my stream of thought works. For best results, do not drink anything stronger than NyQuil prior to reading. May cause aneurysms/enlarged thyroid/headache/hysterical, unwarranted laughter. Here goes:

*I wonder if the chicken knew that when it crossed the road, it would stir up so much conjecture.

*Come to think of it, the chicken is really the source of a lot of speculation. That whole, which came first, the chicken or the egg thing follows it around, too. I mean, why the chicken? Why not, "Which came first, the robin or the egg?" But nope. The chicken gets the glory.

*I wonder why the song "Rockin' Robin" wrote about a robin rather than a raven. I wonder if he had a special person named Robin in his life, or if he knew a particular robin with a penchant for popular music.

*Michael Jackson really ought not to have called that kid Blanket.

*If I ever have a child, I will not call him Toaster.

*Unless he likes toast...a lot.

...Okay. I'm tired now. You take it...

The Final Countdown

2011-07-14T02:12:00.009-04:00

This is it, folks. We're down to the final countdown leading up to the final Harry Potter film. All I can think about is will I have enough time between rehearsal and the premiere to get into costume...yes, I am allowed my dork moment. Why? Because this is Harry, and we don't mess around with the Harry!

Ok, so going in, I have lots of fears. I've stuck with Harry to the end, and I want this final movie to be everything it should. It's been a huge part of my life, both these books and the awesome references and analogies that come

with them. I'm ready. But, I'm not ready for it to end. No, I'm ready. But...I'm not reeaaaaddyyy! *bursts into tears*

*Wipes tear, stiffens upper lip* My god, the emotion. So strong. Okay, but now that I've (sort of) composed myself, I present to you the Top Ten Things I'm Looking Forward to MOST in the Last Movie (because let's face it...I'm looking forward to ALL of it!). As I list them, I pray with all my might that these scenes I love so much will not just APPEAR in the movie (because heaven help if they get left out!), but that they will be done justice. Here we go!

10.) Neville finally has his big moment.

9.) Dumbledore's portrait.

8.) At King's Cross

7.) "Not my daughter, you bitch!" -Molly Weasley

6.) Percy Returns

5.) Nagini...in a hamster ball.

4.) "Fight! Fight for my master!" -Kreacher

3.) "Look at me." -Snape

2.) "You're named after one of the bravest men I've ever known, and he was a Slytherin." -Harry

And the number one scene I look forward to:

"After all this time, Severus?"- Dumbledore

"Always." -Snape

This time tomorrow, I will know. This time tomorrow, I will have seen. This time tomorrow, I will have stuck through with Harry until the very end. Many people say being this "into" a book series is dumb. Many think it's ridiculous to become that engaged. What do I think? In a world where you hear every day on TV news of murders and corrupt politicians and a bad economy, what a good thing it is to have so many people excited about reading books and watching movies made after them. What a grand thing it is to have people come together, excited about having fun. I think about what a lovely thing it is, that in a world with so much chaos, for one night, all of us "Harry Potter freaks" can let go of the stresses of real life, and just enjoy some time of laughs, tears, and a little magic.

Also, stay tuned...I will be posting pics of my oh-so-awesome premiere costume tomorrow, and you guys KNOW how I love dressing up! So, will you see the premiere? What scene do you look forward to most?

sANd-IMAL!

2011-07-10T22:16:00.013-04:00

Hello, Blog Club! Missed you guys! I had an excellent vacation full of adventure, intrigue, and
delicious shrimp cocktail, but now I'm back and more determined than ever to keep this blog at the forefront of my mind. One reason? This blog was on my brain throughout the vacation.

No, really! I'm not just saying that to flatter you! This blog was on my mind, because David and I decided to build a sand animal, so we began a hunt on my blog for a ridiculously good-looking animal to make in the sand. Way back here I posted about swine flu, and though the post had to do with my then-friend Chris Ikner, who turned out to be a raging liar and a little more "swine" than flu (then again...maybe flu describes him, too, since he was, alas, quite sick. But I digress...), I still maintain that the picture of the pig on that post was magnificently gorgeous. Which, of course, is why we chose to recreate it in the form of a sand-critter.

We toiled all day (Side note: and by "all day," I mean "a couple hours") to make this perfect representative of the race of the rare flying pig. This specimen was cultivated with love, and I can now, exclusively (Side note: and by, "exclusively," I mean, "after the rest of facebook," reveal to you...Alfred, the Magnificent Flying!

And of course, the obligatory butt shot. But please, folks, no bad butt jokes. He was not from Boston, therefore, the butt jokes aren't as necessary. (Side note: Good butt jokes, however, are encouraged at all times!)

Oh! And one more highlight-- my sister and her boyfriend are now engaged! Congrats to

Courtney and Herbert Q. (pictured at right on July 4)! I am quite happy for them, especially seeing as how Herbie is, um, just like me. *snicker* LIKE.

So, Blog Club, it's time for the hard questions: if you were going to build an intricate sand animal, what would you want to build? You know...assuming you had endless patience and the skills of *insert famous sand sculptor here.*

Also! Stay tuned...we are almost finished with the next music video, so it's coming very soon to a llama blog near you!

I'm Fond of Your Compassion

2011-06-16T15:35:00.004-04:00

If you didn't already know this, let's get this out of the way: I'd rather pass another kidney stone and/or cut out my own kidney than go to the dentist.

There it is. I've said it. I have an irrational fear of the dentist, and I'm not afraid to say it loud and proud.

But here's the thing about irrational fears: for some reason, people tend to think they can rationalize with you in regard to them. You see, people who aren't scared of whatever you have a phobia of aren't scared of whatever you fear. Now, I realize you're probably saying, "Really, Ambassador Obvious?" Nevertheless, it's not obvious. At least not to them.

And it's not like they don't mean well, because they really are trying to be nice to you and help you. And it's not like they don't understand irrational fears, because chances are, they have them, too.

Yet, yesterday, here I was, nearly catatonic with fear in the dentist's chair, and I'm constantly hearing things like "Oh, it's not so bad." Heh. Not so bad, eh? How about I dump this basket of spiders on you? That won't be so bad. Why don't we just walk casually into this enclosed space for thirty minutes? I don't think it'll be so bad, Mr. Claustrophobic. Oh, why, Miss Coulrophobia...would you like to go to the circus with me?

Then, there's the other popular phrase they like to say to me: "Yeah, I'm not fond of going to the dentist, either." Right. I'm sweating through my jeans right now, I just sucked my gum down my throat by accident while I was hyperventilating, and you're "not fond of it", either? I'm not fond of the wacky neighbor who saves newspaper clippings of every theatre article that comes out for me and loads up my mailbox with them. I'm not fond of Jennifer Anistan's haircut. Saying I'm not fond of the dentist is like saying I'm not fond of being doused in gasoline and set on fire.

So, as a public service announcement, the next time you try to rationalize with someone who has an irrational fear, just remember: they aren't fond of people trying to rationalize with them.

Do you have any irrational fears?

I'll Fly Away

2011-06-02T22:12:00.002-04:00

So, I'm fresh back from the Big City, and I have to tell you...my flight experience was interesting. Not an hour after we flew into Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, another plane landing there blew a tire upon landing and caught fire! Luckily, there were only a couple of minor injuries, and even more luckily...it wasn't my plane! Yikes!

Even without knowing fellow planes are catching on fire, flying always gives me a small case of the willies. Therefore, I try to pack to the letter so as to not get bogged down in security lines and risk further anxiety. I need no help in that department. This is why, when packing, I looked on the airline and TSA website to make sure I knew what I could and couldn't take on the plane, which, of course, led up to this blog...

Granted, a lot of this stuff I knew. You can't bring large cans of hairspray or shampoo, you can't bring weapons, etc. Got it. However, I did find some interesting things on that list I didn't expect.

#1: Did you know that you can take alcohol on a plane as long as it's less than 140 proof? Haha. So, basically, you can bring alcohol as long as it's ONLY eighty percent. You have to leave the REALLY hard stuff at home.

#2: You may not bring your personal chainsaw as a carry-on. (*snaps fingers*) I was planning to hedge the shrubs/carve some chainsaw sculptures/cut down a Red Oak while I was airborne.

#3: However, you MAY bring along your own personal flotation device or life jacket, just in case, but it counts as your personal item in addition to your carry on. At this, I imagine myself walking through security at the Atlanta airport wearing floaties and a pink innertube with a dinosaur head. "Oh, this? It's my own personal flotation device. I'm concerned I might need it."

So, how about you? How do you feel about flying?

What, No Zombies?

2011-05-20T20:44:00.004-04:00

I here there's supposed to be a Rapture tomorrow. It is for this reason that I feel like this post needs to be out there, just so I've gotten it off my chest when the Big Kahuna comes. (Side note: I like to refer to Jesus as the Big Kahuna. Since today at about 8:49 pm.)

Whether you're a diehard believer, an athiest, or somewhere in between, there's one thing you have to admit: communion is weird. Okay, well, maybe you don't have to admit it, but even if you don't, deep down, you know it to be true. I mean come on. We live in a culture where vampires scare the hell out of us. Why? Because they drink blood. And yet, on special Sundays when that giant cup (or tiny cup for you Baptists out there) is passed around, everyone gets all serious and drinks them a little Jesus juice. Right. Okay, so if Jesus does in fact show up tomorrow, what would you do if he held his wrist out to you and said, "Go 'head. Have a little suckle."? Would you slurp on him? (Side note: and before you guys go poking holes in my theory and saying how he doesn't have blood anymore because he's a spirit or something, just let this be a hypothetical.)

And even if we forgot all about the blood, there's the other tiny factor that, in the church is called "sacrament," but in our every day society is better known as "cannibalism." Yet, still, everyone treats it like it is perfectly normal to pretend we're munching on Jesus' delicious God-flesh. Ouch. Somehow, this doesn't seem quite...kosher?

Then again, who am I to judge? You might like to eat Jesus' liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. If that's the case, more power to you. For the time being, I think I'll stick with the pasta and mountain dew.

If the Rapture happened tomorrow (*giggle*), what would you like to do with your last twenty-four hours on earth?

My Mama Told Me...

2011-05-08T15:56:00.008-04:00

Happy Mother's Day, Blog Club! In commemoration of this day, I'm sharing just a few of the many lessons I've learned from my Mom, complete with pictures!

Item 1: Sometimes, it's okay to blend in. Or not.
Item 2: Even if you're different from somebody else, it doesn't mean you can't still be friends.Item 3: Trust is an important thing. Choose who you trust wisely.Item 4: Always play well with others. And share your toys.Happy Mother's Day, Momertola!
What lessons have you learned from an important mother in your life?

A Big Day

2011-05-02T22:33:00.005-04:00

'Ello, 'ello, Blog Club! Today, I come to you today to talk to you about a matter you are incredibly sick of and are willing to scream your head off if you read one more thing about it. That's right...It's Osama Time!

However, do NOT be afraid, Blog Club, for I come in peace. There's been way too much political b.s. today about who should get credit or what's wrong or done wrong or right, but I'm here to clear the whole thing up, folks. "How?" you ask? Why, because I know who REALLY deserves the credit, of course.

Sure, Bush E. Poo started the war on terror, and Obama's administration followed through. But the real person we should be patting on the back, the real person we should be giving mad props to for this momentous milestone in history is none other than the person who, no matter what the world may say, is really responsible for the kick-ass stealthery and all knowing wonder that was able to track down the man who has been hiding out for a decade...

That's right...I'm talking about...

STEWIE GRIFFIN!

Haha. I jest. I'm very proud of our armed forces and those who put themselves in harm's way to bring a killer to justice. Let's take today not to dwell on the politics and who "gets" the credit...let's just be proud as a nation that September 11 has finally been avenged. Cheers!

Not-so-Brilliant Friday

2011-04-22T19:43:00.003-04:00

Hello, Blog Club! I'm having a lovely day of suffering on Good Friday as I try to pass a kidney stone. How very apropos. But, since I'm on the subject of Good Friday, let me pass on to you (haha! Get it? Pass on! Kidney stone...pass...okay. I'm shutting up) some thoughts on Good Friday. Or rather, let me give you some thoughts I have had on Good Friday. (Side note: wow, that's a lot of "Good Friday's" in one paragraph.) Here we go:

*I wonder if TGIFridays gets more business on Good Friday than on a normal Friday. In fact, I wonder if they get more business on normal Fridays than on other days of the week.

*Good Friday was probably not a very good day for Jesus. He probably didn't come up with that name. He probably would've called it, "Oh, wow, this sucks harder than a Dyson vacuum that will be invented in the 21st century Friday."

*Jim Caviezel hasn't really done much in his film career since playing Jesus in Passion of the Christ. That's either because people found out that popcorn and Jesus-beating didn't go so well together, or it's Jesus' way of saying, "Oh, really, Jim? You think you know suffering? I'll show you suffering...END FILM CAREER!" (Side note: my Jesus is 1% forgiving Son, 99% badass.)

*If Friday is Good, and Sunday is Easter, why doesn't Saturday get a cool name? Saturday is left out, and it saddens me. It would be awesome if we called it "Sleep Saturday," and everyone used the whole day to catch up on sleep, since that was Jesus' "dead day," if you will.

And on that note, I should probably drop out and chill with my ice water. (haha! Get it? Chill? Ice? Yeah. Okay. I'm leaving that alone again.). Happy Good Friday-- kidney stones rock. (haha! Get it? Stones...rock...okay. Nevermind.)

Has your Good Friday been good?

Star Struck: I Know Your Secret!

2011-04-06T20:40:00.004-04:00

Hola, Blog Club! So, first things first: for the two of you who actually read the "Mayday" post...yes, it existed. No, you were not hallucinating. Yes, I took it down. Why? Because shortly after I posting it, I was flooded with things I needed to comment on. Hence, the need for the retraction of the mayday. On to the post!

There is an important discovery I need to announce to you folks today, and it is this: I'm pretty sure that Dakota Fanning is Maggie Smith.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. "She is years younger than Maggie Smith, Colby. She isn't British, nor is she in the Harry Potter movies. How can she be Dame Maggie Smith?" To me, however, the better question is how can she not be?

Think about it. Maggie Smith is far too awesome to ever die. Period. And yet, she was born in 1934. You do the math. She's getting on up there in years. Now, we come to Dakota Fanning. She has always acted brilliantly, even as a very small child. One thing that stands out about her is, alas, the poise of someone with many, many more years of experience underneath her belt. MANY YEARS. Say, fifty-five-ish years, kind of like the fifty-five years Maggie Smith has been acting. Maggie was born in 1934. Dakota was born in 1994. Maggie Smith has had roles in three movies with the word "secret" in their titles: The Secret Garden, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Dakota was in The Secret Life of Bees. Coincidence? I think not!

How can you deny it when faced with SUCH overwhelming evidence? (Side note: please ignore lack of overwhelming evidence.) When the Dalai Lama passes away, the country of Tibet is searched far and wide for the child who is his reincarnation. But would someone as brilliant as Maggie Smith wait to die before she was reincarnated? Of course not! She would want to pass along all of her secrets to the next Maggie while she was still around. (Side note: please ignore that passing along information would be unnecessary if they are the same person.)

Maggie. She was born in Essex, England. There is an Essex in the state of North Dakota. Just keep that in mind.

If you could choose a famous actress to play you in the movie of your life, who would you pick?

Perfect Match

2011-03-22T13:32:00.000-04:00

Today's blog post is brought to you by identity confusion and emotional scarring.

Blog Club, I'm here today to talk to you about a problem facing our world that has been going on for some time now. It has been the source of turmoil in the hearts of people everywhere, even if, as they grow up, they don't realize it is part of the giant problem that their therapists will one day refer to as "mommy or daddy issues." I'm talking, of course, about people dressing their children in matching outfits.

You've seen this one in more places than you probably care to. Two little girls, sisters, adorned in matching pink dresses and bows. A set of kids of staggering ages all formatted into the same outfit, even though it is slightly changed to accomodate "girl," "boy," or "baby." (Please note that "baby" has no gender. His identity doesn't matter, as evidenced by using "his" to refer to her. She's a baby; she can't read.)

I guess this is a good idea because... Um. Er. Uh.... the kids might forget who their siblings are, so if they match, they'll remember? Or maybe the parents think they'll forget which are theirs, but can somehow remember, "The kids in the watermelon shirts are mine."

But please, please, whatever you do, don't tell me they do this because it's "cute." I can't take that. Especially with twins. There is just nothing more adorable than lack of independence.

Do you have siblings you used to "match"?

Chocolate, Facebook, and Other Guilty Pleasures

2011-03-10T16:34:00.006-05:00

It's that time of year again, folks. The time when the trees start to get green, the sun starts to shine a bit more, and my electric bill goes through the roof because of air conditioning. It's a time for new flowers to bloom, and as always, time for so many people in my little southern town (and maybe around the country...I'm not sure) to begin a tradition that displays their need to look a certain way, to show off their goodness. I'm referring, of course, to sacrificing something for Lent.

Now, you may be saying, "Colby, people who give up things for Lent do that because it is an important part of their faith!" And yes, in many cases, you're so right. However, I also know people who do nothing else religious for the entire year, yet they make this huge show of giving up something for Lent, posting facebook statuses about it or trying to figure out what they "should" give up for Lent. It's more of a trend for many than a real act of spirituality. Don't get me wrong here, either, because I'm not condemning anyone for not being religious. I'm not the most religious person either. I have my own faith, but for me it's a very personal and private thing, which is one reason I don't find displays like this attractive. It's those types of "for show" that made me feel more personal about it, because there was too much surrounding me in the Bible belt that felt insincere. Much of it isn't, but so much is, too.

Which is why I've decided that if someone is going to make a show of giving up something for Lent, it should at least be interesting. If it's sincere, go with your feelings, but if it's for show, might as well make it show. The main things I see people "giving up" are chocolate, facebook, and soda. Those are nice...and boring. Therefore, I present to you the Top Ten Things I'd Like to See Someone Give Up for Lent:

10.) All modes of transportation that include the use of wheels

9.) Use of the word "the," both in writing and in conversation

8.) Showers (Side note: this must include a daily video journal a la Avatar)

7.) All foods that aren't the color red. And yes, you may use food coloring, but it may only be once a week, with photographic evidence, and witnessed by a recognized member of the clergy.

6.) Spoons

5.) Coming within five square feet of a tree

4.) Saying their own name out loud

3.) Pants

2.) Lightswitches

And the number one thing I'd like to see someone give up for Lent:

Redlights. But, if they give up redlights, I hope they didn't give up good tires, luck, and the rich friend who can bail them out of jail when they have to run from the cops after they run the second, thrid,or eleventh one.

What's the oddest thing you've ever heard of someone "giving up" for Lent?

The Lowest of the Low

2011-03-09T00:22:00.002-05:00

You know what I'm sick of, Blog Club? I'm sick of all these facebook posts/bumper stickers/commercials about how much teachers or nurses, etc. make a difference and how we should repost this status if you know a nurse who makes a difference or hug a teacher today and thank him for helping.

Now don't get me wrong, folks. I'm not saying nurses and teachers aren't great. They are, and they make a difference. But you know else is great and makes a difference? Garbage men. But does anyone think to give them a pat on the back and a thank you? Nope. Does anyone post a status about how we should be thankful for our garbage men who sift through piles of our human filth every day? Nope.

And when you get down to it, the garbage men have way more for us to be thankful for than many of the more glorified occupations. I mean, seriously...who says, "I want to be a garbage man when I grow up"? (Side note: okay, so my dad said that...but that doesn't count). When people ask garbage men at parties what they do for a living (side note: garbage men go to parties, right?), do you think when they answer, "I'm a garbage man," that it's more often people nod and say how impressed they are or more often people stare at them awkwardly, put up two fingers, crucifix style, and back away slowly? They clean up our junk, my cat's dirty litter, my gross moldy food that was left in the refrigerator too long. They do what nobody else wants--or is willing--to do.

*Sigh* Poor garbage men. Always a garbage man, never a nurse.

What do you think are the least appreciated occupations?

Paparazzi!

2011-03-03T02:01:00.007-05:00

Whoa, Blog Club! I just closed an exciting chapter of my life called this year's annual Foodie! Awards show. It's an Academy Awards-style show put on my the magazine I write for, M Food and Culture, that honors local independent restaurants, theatres, and shops in our area. All of the proceeds of the show go straight to Jay's Hope, a charity that provides financial support for children in middle and south Georgia who have been diagnosed with cancer and their families. I've choreographed the opening number (*jabs finger to right*--that's me and my awesome partner during the show this year!) for the show the past three years and have been a part of it for four (it's been around five). This year's number was bigger and better than ever, so I wanted to post it BY THE NUMBERS!

Number of times we ran the Circle of Death: 452
Number of tricks in the show with "death" in their title: 2
Number of times we were missing at least one person from practice: 5,697
Number of rehearsals where there was a rope hanging in the middle of the stage: 1
Number of counts we had to flatten the Circle of Death into a line: 8
Number of times sounds were made to identify lifts: 9,005
Number of times a dress ended up in someone's mouth: 1
Number of bruises and sore muscles and pinched nerves: 4,065,822
Number of near decapitations: 1
Number of dancers in the show: 10
Number of fun moments had: impossible to count.

Thanks, guys, for a great performance, and stay tuned for the BLOOPERS REEL coming soon to a blog near you. For now, sit back and enjoy the performance!

EDIT DAY AFTER POST: I just realized I now have two posts entitled "Paparazzi." Um...oops. Or maybe this just means my next blog should be a "You know you're a Lady Gaga fan when..." list.

Serious Sunday: Peace Out

2011-02-13T19:55:00.005-05:00

Disclaimer: The following post is rated SICFBAM, for this is self-indulgent to the power of 95 plus the sum of Matt Damon and Shemar Moore's ratings on the 1-10 hotness scale. But So I Can Feel Better About Myself, I am posting this so that when I take my sweet ass time answering my e-mails, I won't feel guilty. BAM. On to the post!

I am hunted. I am hunted by people who don't realize they even like hunting, and sometimes don't even realize they are hunting for me. (Side note: Even as I type this, I realize it may not be the best analogy. However, because I dislike hunting and it worked in my head before I started typing, I'm going to go with it.) It's like they are all chasing me with rifles pointed at me, only they're blindfolded and think the thing they're pointing is a maypole or twirling baton and not a gun. Okay, this is getting ridiculous. I should stop being dramatic and over-complicating this...

I am at a point in my life where people around me think that because I have a somewhat flexible schedule, that means that my schedule should be flexible for them. People think that because I have a somewhat flexible schedule, that means that they should be able to state a time for a meeting, and I should automatically be able to be there. People think that because I have a somewhat flexible schedule, that means I should answer calls, messages, texts, e-mails, etc. NOW. (Side note: I also acknowledge the few humans in my life who don't do this- you know who you are, and the drinks are on me!)

Now, there is a problem with this. The problem would be, if everyone thinks my schedule should be flexible for them, it means I have no peace (None! Ever!). People who work an office job every day from 9-5 come home at five, and they're off. No one questions them if they say they're too tired for this or just want to be at home for that. No one judges them for not answering the phone or not getting around to their e-mail for a couple days. Nobody faults them for not getting around to any "extras" they didn't do, because by God, people are LUCKY for them even working on those extras at all, what with how tired and busy they are.

Back then (Side note: you know...then), I could sit down to write and feel like if I said I was writing, people around me respected that. They respected what my priorities were, and they didn't demand priority. I didn't feel like I had to make excuses for not doing something else while I was writing, because it was where my heart was, which was good enough reason. I'm not really sure how it changed. Maybe I didn't respect my own priorities enough. Maybe I started to worry too much about keeping other people happy rather than myself, not realizing that it would only make me even less available to them in the long run.

But, I have realized that now. This is why I decided to write this post, here and now, so that it is available for anyone who may need it. I love the people in my life, and I love the hobbies I'm passionate about. BUT. BIG but. But, I need to put my priorities back at the top of my ladder. I like to help out folks where I can, and I like to check in with folks so I know everyone is okay, etc. But, I need to put some boundaries up so that I can stop going insane. I need to stop feeling like I have to make excuses or explain why I'm doing what I'm doing at any given time, because it's a bit of a trapped animal feeling. The hunted feeling. See! There! I made it come together.

Are you hunted? Do you hunt anyone in your life...knowingly or not?

Rejection Revisited

2011-02-02T22:39:00.003-05:00

Happy Hump Day, Blog Club! Well, before we get to today's eyeful, I'd like to announce that the NAME THAT LLAMA (you remember...gentleman at top in front of cactus? Yes. Him.) voting has ended, and our beautiful banner llama is LORENZO! Now on to the post!

Today, I'm revisiting a little issue that has bugged me for years: the malicious neglect Disney has shown in not bestowing full princess-dom on Tinkerbell. I have long thought about what could cause this vicious betrayal by her own creators, but to best understand the slight, I think we must first take a look at, if not pure awesomeness, which qualities the girls Disney DOES recognize as princesses embody.

Number One: You mustn't have a damn clue what is going on around you. Cinderella just kept running despite the loss of one slipper. You have to be a different sort of special to not realize your feet are suddenly several inches uneven...while running.

Number Two: You must be so aware of your own beauty that you are lulled into a false sense of security that you have no enemies. After all, you're mesmerizing. How could someone not love you? "Sure, Creepy Old Lady, I'd love to eat an apple from a stranger!" Snow White exclaimed.

Number Three: You must have a stupid level of curiosity. "Oooh," Sleeping Beauty said, "That thing looks sharp. What would happen if I touched it?" "Hm. This giant beast with large teeth says not to go in the West Wing. Um...where was the West Wing, again?"

Number Four: You have the awkward, strangely intriguing, and somewhat alarming skill of attracting large amounts of different animals at random. It's a good thing Pocahontas doesn't sing in the shower...since she isn't in a shower at all. That could get awkward.

Thinking over all of these, I'd like to propose a comedy called Tinkerbell's Revenge. It wouldn't be animated, but instead, cast with real people and in the style of Kill Bill. The cast? Glad you asked! I have chosen the following cast because of--erm--the unique spin I believe each would bring to the role to give it a little something different than it would otherwise classically be.

Tinkerbell-- Ellen DeGeneres
Cinderella-- Amy Poehler
Snow White-- Ellen Page
Princess Tiana-- Wanda Sykes
Princess Jasmine-- Sarah Silverman
Mulan-- Margaret Cho
Pocahontas-- Roseanne Barr
Ariel-- Debra Messing
Belle-- Tina Fey
Aurora-- Alicia Silverstone
Rapunzel-- Amanda Bynes

I do believe that would help my lack of closure surrounding Tink's non-princess status. Maybe. Which princess is your favorite?

Love is a Battlefield (Literally)

2011-01-22T00:57:00.003-05:00

There is this new song out by Bruno Mars called "Grenade." I must...okay, I have to say...all right, I must tell you...

Okay. First things first, let me tell you the chorus, just in case you've never heard it.

"I'd catch a grenade for ya (yeah yeah yeah)
Throw my hand on a blade for ya (yeah yeah yeah)
I'd jump in front of a train for ya (yeah yeah yeah)
You know I'd do anything for ya (yeah yeah yeah)
Oh, oh
I would go through all this pain
Take a bullet straight through my brain,
Yes, I would die for ya baby...
But you won't do the same thing."

Okay, my first thought would be: Kind sir, from the bottom of my heart, please...GET. PROFESSIONAL. HELP. I don't think this is so much "love" as it is "obsessive and over dramatized."

However, upon further reflection, let me ask you this, Bruno: has she, in fact, asked you to take a grenade for her? That seems, um, a little presumptuous on her part. And downright stupid on your part, come to that, especially if she won't do it for you. (Side note: where are you guys, anyway? The Middle East? Palestine? The set of the new Terminator movie?)

Let's see here, Bruno. How can I put this delicately? Oh, wait! I have it! Bruno, she's just not that into you.

I guess what I'm really trying to say here is, lyrics fail. Period. Get a new writer. Or if you wrote it, maybe go ahead and take that grenade, because if there's a part two coming, I don't know if I or your therapist can handle it.

The Day is Here!

2011-01-18T23:45:00.002-05:00

Back here, I decided it was about time we named the llama who runs things around here. You know...the guy in front of the cactus up there? *jabs finger at top of screen*

Well, I said I'd pick my three favorites and then let you guys vote, so I've made my decision, and it's time!

*Ahem*

And the nominees are:

MELVIN, suggested by Nadine
LORENZO, suggested by Kristy
JULIO, suggested by Nancy

So, Blog Club, cast your votes! Everyone can vote once, and the most votes a week from today (11:59 pm 1/26/11 wins!)

Serious Saturday: My Best Friend's Wedding

2011-01-15T21:11:00.005-05:00

Tomorrow is my best friend's wedding day.

I'm not one to get weepy over things like this, really, but I started thinking about it, and I realized her last name won't be the same tomorrow. It's the name I met her with, the name I've come to associate with the person I know her to be. It's a name I've heard fall off my lips when I'd say her first name and someone would ask "Ashlee who?" I'd reply, and even though they might not be able to tell it in my voice, I could hear the pride that crept in, just because when I heard the name, even from my own mouth, all the images of this person who, until a few years back, wasn't even a part of my life. In fact, it wasn't even a name I'd heard before.

Then, chance upon chance happened together to set up the perfect circumstances that would collide us as friends. I don't know why, but we just clicked. She's someone who cheers me on in my good moments, and someone who has stood by me in bad. She has jumped when I needed help in freak dog emergencies and read even my most awful writing. I think I'm lucky to have certain friends who are willing to accept me as me, the good reliable things that come with it as well as the fallible part of me that makes mistakes and fails them sometimes, and she's definitely that. She's someone I've come to love as my family.

Tomorrow, she will change her name that will start her own little family of two. It's something I can't quite describe, because it feels weird, this changing her name. Yet, it feels like a privilege, to get to wander into this new phase with this new name. It feels like a privilege to have gotten to watch her fall in love, because I quite literally feel like I got to do that.

It feels like a privilege to know that those same sorts of random circumstances that crashed us together as friends are the same types of events that brought her together with JP, and to know that if he values her even an ounce as much as I do (and I know he does...), that I trust him to marry my best friend.

And we all know, my opinion is what REALLY matters here. ;-)

Congratulations, Ashlee and JP! I'm so proud of and happy for both you!

Sticks and Stones Can Break My...House?

2011-01-11T00:01:00.005-05:00

Ahoy, Blog Clubonians! I hope you've had a spectacular weekend past! Before the post I'd like to share some fun news: my dance partner and I competed this weekend and won both our American rhythm divisions (*jabs finger at picture of us waiting for awards ceremony at right*)! WOOT! I'll have some video up soon. Now, on to the post!

I'm a lover, not a fighter, usually, but today, I have a few bones to pick...with phrases. Again. Disclaimer: yes, I know the coming phrase isn't literal. But it's funnier to pick on it if I take it that way.

My first problem comes with the whole "People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" saying. Um, what should they throw, then? I mean, even a couch cushion could shatter that glass if it was unnaturally firm. And what about people OUTSIDE glass houses? I'm pretty sure that glass isn't just breakable from the inside... Also, does this mean regular people can throw stones? Like, say, people who live in houses made of vinyl siding? Can they throw stones only at their houses, or can they throw them at other things, like, say, potential intruders/Richard Simmons/the French? *rubs hands together* Does this mean can throw them at the mailman?

But I do feel sorry for the glass house people, not being able to throw stones. So, here are a few suggestions for what they could throw. You could throw a temper tantrums. You could throw a toga party. You could throw in the towel. (Side note: apparently, glass house people can throw a lot of things as long as they begin with the letter T.)

Then again, if you live in a glass house, you might not want to throw a toga party, either. Those things can get wild, and all it takes is one Greek with a jack and coke, and your whole living room has suddenly gone from a sunroom to back porch.

If you lived in a glass house, what would you be most concerned about?

Wishing You a Mildly Sarcastic New Year!

2011-01-05T00:23:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year, Blog Club! I hope your New Year's Eve was filled with fun and frivolity! Mine was nice and boring as I pecked away at my keyboard, working on current manuscript. But, I'm taking a break, because I thought it was about that time to ring in the year 2011 with my favorite blogosphere. Instead of posting my New Year's Resolutions for this year, I thought instead, I'd post a kind of serious, mildly sarcastic, maybe humorous list of things I learned in 2010 and how I hope 2011 will go. So, on to the post!

Things I learned in 2010:

*The sphynx cat needs many more baths than you think he does.

*You MUST have eggs at IHOP, even if you don't want them. A waiter tells me this. He is now my enemy just like the mailman, and I challenge him to a duel! (Side note: said duel shall be performed with foam fun noodles like you play with in the pool.) In fact, now that Fedex guy (who used to be enemy number one for jumping rope in the apartment above me and not reasons related to those for which I dislike the mailman) is no longer in the picture, I think I shall rename him Enemy Number One!

*If it looks like a rare Beruvian black duck and quacks like a rare Beruvian black duck, it's probably a rare Beruvian black duck. However, there is a chance it COULD just be something that is programmed to ACT like a rare Beruvian black duck, when in reality, it's just an ordinary, fat turkey.

*The schedule of ice skating in Georgia is really screwed up.

*There's very little you can't do with a swingset.

*In times of crisis, you true friends aren't the people who called to ask how you were. They were the people who knew how you were, so they were already at your house with tin foil or Slytherin necklaces.

*That I make a nice short, angry, sort-of Indian woman.

*You shouldn't be scared to let a guy chunk you a few feet over his head in a back flip. It's all good. You can land it.

*If someone has more enemies than your average sleazeball mafia laweyer, chances are it's not because they just can't catch a break.

*There is something else at Chickfila that might just top the chicken mini in the morning, and it is the cinnamon cluster. Though, an ideal morning contains both.

*Bass porn is real. (Side note: Bass as in the instrument, not the fish, though, the fish might exist, too. No telling.)

*You can't just go looking for the wild animals...you have to simply watch and wait, and they'll come to you. And then, you will video them. You must. For the sake of posterity.

*That if you dress like an owl at the movie theatre, you will end up interviewed. Twice.

What did you learn this year?

To: The Blog Club With Love, The Colbert Q.

2010-12-25T14:02:00.004-05:00

I guess my last question about this song is why are there twelve days of Christmas? Wouldn't 25 be more appropos? Oh, well. Merry Christmas, Blog Club. A video, just for you...

PS: New music video filming starts tomorrow. Am pumped.

Did you get anything exciting for Christmas?

Even More Christmas Creepy

2010-12-14T01:47:00.003-05:00

Look, Blog Club, I ADORE Christmas. It's my favorite time of the year. But recently, I was forced to point out to you guys how strange the song "12 Days of Christmas" really is (Side note: which I will be remaking, coming soon to a blog near you!). But guys, it doesn't end there. Since then, I've thought about several other Christmas songs that are a little "off," and it's all because at a point, they insist on bringing in the creepy children's voices. I give you:

At about 3:40 in time...

And if you doubted the need for Krampus before now, you won't when at about 3:15 in the next video, the children start screaming.

And speaking of Krampus...I have one more song I'd like to share with you since I've bombarded you with these creepy children in the earlier two videos. Enjoy!

What's your favorite Christmas song?

The Lone Partridge

2010-11-30T19:34:00.006-05:00

Today, I was watching The View, and they were discussing "The Twelve Days of Christmas" and how it would cost ninety-something thousand dollars (I forget the exact figure) to purchase the objects in this popular song. As they discussed this, though, all I could think about was why the heck anyone would want those specific things. It has to be some kind of DaVinci Code-esque thing, this "Twelve Days of Christmas."

I say this because most of those things have very few practical uses (aside from the partridge in a pear tree. You can do a lot of things with a partridge in a pear tree). In fact, like Sesame Street, I'm starting to feel like the writers of this song, if they weren't trying to cover up a centuries-old conspiracy, were a little twisted.

First of all, they definitely had a bird fetish. Partridge, doves, calling birds, geese, swans...I mean, I've heard of bestiality, but this is ridiculous! And the swans have to be swimming. What, Mr. Twelve, you have something against lame swans? Someone hasn't read the ADA. (Side note: On this blog, we are equal opportunity swan supporters. There are floaties available for all non-swimming swans and sunscreen for swans with fear of water.).

Then, of course, we have the French hens. Not only are we against handicapped water fowl, but now we have nationality prejudice! How would we know they're French, anyway? Are they going to be wearing little berets and singing, "Alouette"?

What isn't French (necessarily) are the maids. They can be swimming or French or lame or in a pear tree...as long as they're milking. Wait...what? Must get head out of gutter. This is a post about Christmas, not about goat boobs. In fact, there are no goats in this song. There wouldn't be. They don't have feathers.

What I'm saying here is...someone should really write a new Christmas song while hopped up on a healthy combination of egg nog, Christmas cookies, and tears of children harassed by the Krampus. (Side note: Hm. *thinks*) This song just brings up too many hard questions, some I haven't even addressed. 'Cause something tells me that the mental image I have in my head of the "lords a leaping" is wrong. But if the picture twelve Jesuses jumping into the air (with fist pumps) is wrong, then I don't wanna be right.

Paparazzi: An Owl's Tale

2010-11-23T23:38:00.006-05:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, this past Thursday evening/Friday morning, my dreams became reality when Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 was released into theatres. I was at the premiere, all decked out as Hedwig (Harry's owl). I felt like I had paparazzi, because both of our area news programs interviewed me for TV, and I was stopped by strangers who wanted their pictures taken with me. It was fun. What was more fun? The movie itself!

So, my overall feeling was that it was what I hoped for. However, while I think they got some things right, I also felt there were certain things that could be done better, too. In case you for some reason have a strange brain disorder that doesn't allow you to form your own opinions/burst into tears when questioned about even the most inane things/can't talk because there is a small umbrella stuck in your mouth, I will throw out my assessment (done in the style of the scoring of O.W.L.S.) of what the movie got right and what it didn't so you can feel free to throw rocks at me if you think I'm wrong or cheer and boost me up on your shoulders and declare me your queen if you like them. Here we go! Outstanding: Giving Neville a moment to stand up and show that yes, he will stand up to the death eaters in this film.
Troll: That one line including the lame name-calling, "Losers!" as well as that it was the only time we saw him in the movie.

Outstanding: That they used the line, "The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are Coming."
Troll: The fact that this line didn't come from Kingsley's lynx Patronus, but rather, from a random ball of patronus-like light that spoke Kingsley's voice

Outstanding: The 7 Harrys were cool
Troll: That they explained Hagrid taking Harry as being for sentimental reasons rather than the real, logistical one the book used.

Outstanding: Hermione wiping her parents' memories before leaving home
Troll: Leaving out Harry and Dudley's handshake as the Dursley's left Privet Drive

Outstanding: The scene where Bellatrix tortures Hermione
Troll: The way the rest of the time, Helena Bonham Carter plays Bellatrix almost like comic relief.

Outstanding: The way the Order used the security questions from the book.
Troll: That the fact that Mad-Eye's eye was on the back of Umbridge's door was just glossed over.

Outstanding: The return of the house elves.
Troll: That two of the most important characters, Snape and Dumbledore, weren't seen almost at all.

Outstanding: When Ron and Harry charge Death Eaters in Malfoy Manner to save Hermione.
Troll: How Harry, instead of using expelliarmus, just kind of grabs Draco's wand out of his hand.

Outstanding: Luna calling Dobby, "Sir" in the cellar.
Troll: Pettigrew was stunned outside of the the cellar rather than the all-important "hand incident."

Oustanding: That the seventh movie managed to, through random scenes and newspaper flashes, introduce characters like Bill and Mundungus in only seconds.

Troll: That because of the stupid cuts from previous movies, the seventh movie had to introduce characters like Bill and Mundungus in only seconds.

Anyone else have movie 7 thoughts?

1,2,3, Cha Cha, Blog, 2, 3...

2010-11-16T02:27:00.002-05:00

Hello, my lovely Blog Club! I'm glad you've dropped in today, because I have a very important topic to discuss with you all. It is a topic that will change the world and alter the way you view life as you know it. It is...ballroom dancing.

Okay, okay...so maybe when I said "change the world," I meant something more like, "It is a topic I'm obsessed with." Maybe when I said it would "alter the way you view life" I meant something a little more along the lines of, "it might entertain you for a couple of minutes." Either way, ballroom is important in my life, as is the human ballroom critter I dance with (Hi, Will! *muah!*). In preparing for upcoming competition, we've "watched film" to perfect our routines. However, in doing so, it's brought to our attention some of the strange things we do and say that might seem a little "off" to non-ballroom dancers, which led to:

You Know You're a Ballroom Dancer When...

...within five seconds of a song coming on the radio, you've already classified it as a chacha, rumba, mambo, swing, etc.

...you come home covered in sweat, not sure if it's your own, and you actually didn't give it much consideration at all until you wrote this blog post one day...

...you've stopped in the middle of practice to matter-of-factly discuss a timing issue or talk through a step when you realized you were still in hold/holding hands/upside down in a dip

...you have caught yourself chopping onions/changing tv channels with remote/or typing an email to the rhythm, "Quick, quick, slow."

...you know the flavor of your partner's hair

...you've practiced swivels while pushing a grocery cart through Kroger.

...you've said, "Hold this for a second," and were referring to your leg.

...you are watching a movie where two people dance, and you are really, REALLY offended that the guy's right arm is on the girl's waist when they are "in frame."

...even when you're practicing bare footed, you still don't put down your heels.

...you will launch yourself full speed, face first at the ground for a reverse dip, because you know your partner has you.

...you know that if it looks good, it only needs to be practiced 801 more times. And the 801 more times will actually happen.

...you know what ballroom partners and refrigerators have in common.

...the level of coolness of a variation is directly proportionate to how insane you have to be to attempt it.

...when asked your height, you respond with your real height and your height in heels.

...you know that the "uh" beat and the "and" beat are two TOTALLY different things.

...you gage how productive your most recent practice was based on how many sore muscle groups and/or new bruises you have

...you have practiced Cuban motion...in the seat of your car

...you are offended by floors that have cracks in them, which...we were, but the performance felt good anyway:

Stay tuned: llama name voting coming soon!

Drama...and Llamas

2010-11-02T22:47:00.004-04:00

Special announcement! The one-act play I choreographed this season won Region competition today! Woot! This concludes the drama portion of this post. Now, on to the llamas!

Now...as you have all noticed, the word "llama" not only appears in the title of this blog, but an actual llama in the banner. I may have told the story of how I became so in love with llamas before now, but in case I haven't, here's the reader's digest version:

4 friends. Lunch. Notebook. Animal look-alikes. Llamas. Turtles. Turtle named Llama. The End.

Now that I read that back, it didn't make much sense. Maybe I'll give a more detailed account sometime, or even better, devise an Internet scavenger hunt in which you can piece together the story! Ooh, la la!

Anyway, the whole point to my rambling is this...I feel our

beautiful banner llama at the top needs a NAME! So, I ask

you, Blog Club, for name nominations for our lovely llama

friend above. Leave your suggestions in the comments,

then I will pick my favorite three and we'll take a final vote. Now remember...I love titles, the more ridiculous the better, and creativity counts!

So, Blog Club...whatcha got?

Dressed for Success

2010-10-31T15:40:00.000-04:00

True story: someone called me to ask me to borrow my wings. Then, someone asked to borrow a wand. Then, someone asked if I had a witch hat to borrow. Colby Marshall: the one stop shop for all of your Halloween needs.

That's when it hit me: I haven't planned anything to dress up as for Halloween. This could be for a variety of reasons, but I think the main one is because I wear costumes so much on a regular basis that unless I have a special party or something I'm going to, I don't feel the need to use Halloween as an excuse to dress up. The costumes I remember the most vividly from my childhood Halloweens are a pumpkin, Sleeping Beauty, Ariel, and the young novice nun from Sister Act. Seriously...I dressed as a nun for Halloween once.

You know, come to think of it, the whole trick-or-treat concept is pretty frightening if you ask me. Kids come to your door to basically threaten you if you do not comply with their demands. Not only that, but they come in disguise, so that if you didn't have time to pick up any candy with which to bribe the little fear mongers, they can perform their evil on you without fear of retribution. Oh, yes! Nothing can possibly go wrong here!

That said, I'd at least like to be ready for them when they arrive at my house in all their greedy glory. They may be able to get away with their petty intimidation tactics, but I won't give up my hard-earned Skittles without a fight! So, since I haven't prepared a costume, my dress is my prime tactical option against the little gremlins.

My first thought is to dress as a giant banana. Then, I would greet all trick-or-treaters with "Peanut Butter Jelly Time." Only those who respond with, "Now where ya at, where ya at, where ya at?" would be given candy. I also thought of being one of the three blind mice. This is good on a couple of levels. The best, of course, is that I could pretend to actually be blind. This way, if I was forced to use the cane that is part of my costume to beat off the frightening children who come to my house seeking my food, I could feign ignorance if their parents got upset. I could simply claim I was trying to walk out side and make sure I wasn't close to tripping on anything. Then again, I could dress as Colonel Sanders and give out chicken legs. Maybe next year, they'd pass my house all together.

Next year, maybe I'll throw a giant Halloween party so I have a reason to dress up. What should I be?

Are you dressing up this year? Happy Halloween!

Meant to Be

2010-10-20T20:24:00.003-04:00

Today's post is purple for Spirit Day in support of the campaign to end anti-gay bullying. Love is love...and just because something is different from you doesn't mean it's wrong. /End speech. On to the post!

Speaking of differences...

I have long talked about my desire to have a tail. Heck, it's even up there in the blog banner. Go ahead...go look. I'll wait. *taps foot impatiently* Okay? Done? Good.

Now, the reason I bring this is up is because recently, I received the most magical gift of all time. The other day, my mom called me up and said, "Can I come over? I have something for you." I told her sure, unsure of what she could be bringing. Anyone who knows my mom knows she has a knack for unearthing certain treasures many people never find. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for what she brought.

She walked in and held up a black hoodie. With cat ears on the hood. AND. A. TAIL.

Does this fulfill my dream of having a fully-functional tail installed that I could swirl in circles while dancing? No. Is it the appendage I imagine I could extend "rope-style" to my friends to pull them out of that well they fell into? Not exactly. But it's a darn good start.

Blogger currently has pictures "down." Don't worry, though...pictures are coming!

Thanks, Mom!

Serious Sunday: Silence

2010-10-10T23:01:00.002-04:00

This Sunday, I've been doing some thinking, and one of the main things I've thought about is silence.

Silence can be terrible; it can cut like nothing else can. Family members who've fought and don't speak. Friends who have had something come between them, but both are too proud to be the first to say, "I'm sorry." Silence can be loud, and silence can hurt.

But, this weekend, I made another discovery: there is a beauty in silence. Granted, it is a different kind of silence, and it's a silence that doesn't come along every day. It's a silence when words have been said, feelings felt, and finally, all there is to do is simply be quiet and listen to the sounds of contentment that words can't describe, sentences can't further, or explaining can't multiply.

When all is said and done today, breathe in the silence, and let soak into you everything words can't give. Because if you listen hard enough, the silence will tell you something.

A Tutorial

2010-09-27T22:56:00.003-04:00

I know sometimes it can be hard to tell what is badass and what is not. So, Blog Club, in case you are having trouble, today I'm going to help you out a bit with a few examples.

Cake that is badass:

Cake that is not badass:

Ninja that is Badass:

Ninja that is not badass:

Tattoo that is badass:

Tattoo that is not badass:

I hope this has helped you.

The Monster Mash

2010-09-20T14:15:00.005-04:00

Everyone who has been around this blog for any period of time knows that I love to make videos for my blog. Our most recent video was an adventure, so when my cohorts and I started to think about what video to make next, we knew it had to be something even better. Well, another thing anyone who knows me knows is that Lady Gaga plays in my car on loop about 24/7. I love her music, and I love how deliciously unconventional she is. I myself have--*cough*--one or two eccentricities, so her "let your freak flag fly" attitude thrills me to no end. I'd known for a long time I had to do a Lady Gaga video. Then, when her "Bad Romance" video came out, I saw something that thrilled me even more: it had a SPHYNX in it...only for a split-second, but there it was. A sphynx that looked like MY sphynx...who's middle name is GAGA.

So, we decided way back then we'd film a tribute to Bad Romance, though we filmed "Ice Ice Baby" before it. During the filming, I heard some of the greatest quotes from my friends I could imagine, and the BEST one, I've saved for the very end of the video. I hope you enjoy it! (Side note: and if/when you do, please go to the youtube link and "like" the video on youtube and subscribe to my channel!)

Serious Saturday: I'll Never Forget

2010-09-11T23:36:00.004-04:00

It's hard to believe it was almost a decade ago when I was walking to my locker in high school and heard people chatting about how a plane had hit one of the Twin Towers. A few minutes later, I sat in AP English class and watched silently as the live news coverage showed the second plane hit. I remember hearing when the Pentagon was struck. One of our old principals had started working at the Pentagon. The horror continued all day, and the aftermath went on for days and weeks. Countless dead, wounded, missing...families were ripped apart, hearts broken, faith shaken. But the dust cleared, and we stayed strong. Words were uttered that day, "We will never forget."

And I haven't fogotten. But today, I saw so many posts on facebook, etc., pertaining to 9/11 and the current mosque situation...and there were those words: "We will never forget." It made my heart hurt a bit, to see those words connected to so much hate, because I've always thought of that phrase as being tied to hope. We would never forget those lost, the sacrifices that were made, that the enemies of America were capable of this. But, unfortunately, somewhere along the lines, we stopped thinking of our enemies as the people who perpetrated these attacks and started to slip down the scary slope of blaming people who liked like them or sounded like them...but alas, weren't them.

So today, I choose to remember with love.

I choose to remember by not letting the seeds of hate that our enemies planted in our hearts that day fester there and weaken me.

I choose to remember by not allowing the same hatred they had for us that led them to attack our way of life cause me to show hatred for a certain group just because they have the same skin color or study the same religious books as our attackers. After all, I'm white and a woman, but I hope not everyone holds me to the standards of Lorrainna Bobbit.

I choose to remember today with love.

I choose to laugh with friends.

I choose to dance like nobody's watching.

I choose to dance like SOMEBODY's watching.

I choose to write, and to learn, and to live.

I choose to not be afraid.

I choose to tell the people I love how much they mean to me, and I choose to smile.

I choose to move on with tolerance, love, and respect. Those of us left after 9/11 have so many things to be taught from that tragic day, but let hate not be one of those lessons. Sadness? Yes. Bitterness? Understandable. But don't let them teach us their hate and intolerance. There's been enough of that.

How are you remembering today?

Instant Death.

2010-09-06T22:30:00.008-04:00

Facebook is important to me. Strange? Yes. Lame? Maybe. True? Definitely. But I can't help it. I feel certain "types" of facebooking simply should not be allowed. Once upon a time, I even declared myself the status police. Later, I began to "hide" friends from my News Feed and even defriended some when they committed the facebook deadly sins.

Since then, I've let a lot of things go on my facebook news feed. However, Blog Club, today I have decided it's time to crack the whipand return to facebook instant death. I simply can't take some of these things anymore. I'm going blind on a daily basis (Side note: If you are reading this to someone who is blind, please now pretend you accidentally read that wrong, and that it really said, "I'm going to FIND them on a daily basis).

But in the interest of fair warning, I suppose the rules should be written out in fixed form so that they may be read, learned, and referenced often. Since I don't have any stone tablets handy, I'll post them here. I now present to you, Colby's Top Ten Facebook Commandments:

10) Thou shalt not attention seek in your statuses. Posting "I have a horrible headache" one day is fine. If you are posting about your headache Monday, your post-nasal drip Tuesday, your explosive diarrhea Wednesday (Side note: these are sounding like theme days gone horribly wrong), and your toe fungus Thursday...maybe you don't need a facebook status. Perhaps you need a hospital. A psychiatric one.

10B) Thou Shalt not encourage these attention seeking morons. If EVERY time Toe Fungus Freddy posts about his toe, you're the first one in line to say, "Aw, huggy bear! Hope you feel better!" then you, too, should burn in the eternal fires of internet hell.

9) Thou shalt not (only) lurk. Yes, facebook was created so that you could pull up pictures of your ex-boyfriend from high school and laugh about how, since he dumped you, he has gained 45 pounds and scoops the barbecue meat out of a tub at a local place called That's My Pork. And I'm not saying that's not okay. It is. However, the rules of fair stalking state that you must at least post enough statuses or pictures, etc. so that anyone who would like to friend-stalk you has the opportunity to do so. Taking their info and giving none is just bad form.

8) Thou shalt not add extra letters to words. Adding extraa lettersss to words does nottt emphasize them anymore than if you just wrote the regularr word correctlyyy.

8B) Thou shalt not put the words "txt me" in any facebook status unless there is a specific reason to request the texts (ie, "I lost your number, so text me). If someone wanted to text you, they would. Or, why don't you grow some cahones and text someone yourself? You could've done that while you were posting the facebook status.

7) Thou shalt not post constant God statuses. I love the Big Guy just as much as the next person, but believe me when I say people don't really get on facebook to get a sermon. They log onto facebook to find out whether their friend's current love interest has moved from "it's complicated" to "in a relationship" just like every other normal human.

6) Thou shalt not go overly emo in facebook statuses. We all get sad sometimes, but if you're venting your sadness on facebook more often than you're writing something interesting, you're walking the sin line. If you're about to drown yourself in your bathtub, I'm sure you would be better off telling a friend, a trusted family member, or Morgan Freeman.

6B) Thou shalt not post too many song lyrics. Yes, they may apply to your life right now. They might remind you perfectly of your perfect or perfectly awful relationship with your boyfriend/girlfriend/yoga instructor...but...if you post too many of them, you just make us want to shoot you.

5) Thou shalt lay off the damn exclamation points already!!!!!!!!!!!!! Also, lay off the symbol made on facebook when you typ <>

4) Thou shalt not defriend someone on facebook unless you are fully prepared for what it means. (Side note: For me personally, let's just say if I know you defriended me on facebook maliciously, you are dead to me. The end.)

3) Thou shalt not post constantly about how in love you are, how great your girlfriend is, etc. One time, it's cute. Two times, it's cute. Every two statuses you post? Yeah, you're going straight to my hide pile.

3B) Thou shalt not only interact with one person (your gf or bf) on facebook. If you only get on the site to post lovey-dovey messages on each others' walls and statuses, I know a better place you can do it...ever heard of a private message? A cell phone? A hotel room? A cardboard box?

2) Thou shalt not post big announcements with no further details. You know good and well that if you post, "Yay! I'm moving!" someone (or 80 someones) are going to ask where. And this, my "friend," gets dangerously like our attention seeker at number ten.

And the number one status offense:

Thou shalt not post cryptic statuses. If you want to bitch about something, don't say, "Bob is so upset." For you are the worst type of attention seeker; you know good and well people are going to post asking what's wrong. If you didn't post what it was, chances are you didn't want them to know and aren't going to tell them, either. Damn it...you know what they say...if you can't say, "Bob is pissed off because he just walked in to find his wife sleeping with our next door neighboor, his wife, and a goat," then don't say anything at all.

Any other facebook no-nos from you guys?

Gotta Gotta Cut Loose!

2010-09-02T00:13:00.004-04:00

Sorry I haven't visited much lately...I'm hoping to have some time to visit you guys some today. But, I thought I'd post quick update!

I have been MIA a bit because I am going to be in the Paramount Pictures remake of Footloose! I went to the open casting call the week before, and I was cast the same day. We started filming last week. I'm just a lowly high schooler, but I'm honored to be a part of the production and to get paid to do something I love. So, even if it's not exactly a "movie star" role, it's something I'm thrilled about.

I'll try to post some about my experience in filming as we go along, though it will obviously just be "what it's like" and nothing that gives away details of the movie since that is a no-no. Thanks to all of you for your support and for continuing to come back even when I'm a few days between posts.

For now, I need some sleep! So...what's your favorite movie?

They like me! They really like me!

2010-08-26T01:05:00.004-04:00

I like to think I'm a nice person. Sometimes, though, I don't just think it. I know it. Allow me to explain...

* I know I'm a nice person, because when I go to kill some ants, if I see that one of them only "kind of" died, I'll go ahead and kill him all the way so he doesn't have to suffer. I'm NICE!

* I know I'm a nice person, because when someone falls down some stairs, even if they roll legs over face in an all-out tumble, I will have my cell phone ready as I laugh my butt off, just in case they are seriously hurt. I'm NICE!

* I know I'm a nice person, because if I'm dancing with my partner and he has some ache or pain from a move we've just done, I'll go ahead and stomp on his foot really hard with my three inch ballroom heel so he won't think about his other pain anymore. I'm NICE!

* I know I'm a nice person, because when my husband's alarm clock goes off in the morning and he doesn't wake up at first, I just kind of shove him out of the bed, because I don't want him to be late. I'm NICE!

Do you ever just know you're a nice person? Heehee :-) Hope you had a nice Wednesday!

Sunday that is Semi-But-Not-So-Semi-Serious

2010-08-22T21:05:00.004-04:00

The whole nation seems to be up in arms over the whole "we're building a mosque near Ground Zero" fiasco. I call it "fiasco" simply because Democrat, Republican, left, right, sideways...everyone seems to have an opinion, and those opinions can get strong. You've got people tweeting angrily in ALL CAPS, pointing in people's faces, waving bloody American flags, and (oh, the humanity) answering biased facebook polls.

But, while I agree this is a serious issue, I think there HAS to be a better way to address the amped up emotion surrounding this controversy. Therefore, I present to you the Top Ten Ways for Opponents and Supporters to Approach the Mosque Controversy More Peacefully:

10.) A rousing game of musical chairs. Think about it...you can still isolate people, make them feel bad about themselves, and mock them...but...there's music! And chairs!
9.) Tug of war. Opponents on one side of rope, supporters on other side. Whoever falls in the mud pit wins the property. Problem over.
8.) Line up slip -n- slide facing mosque site. Choose 3 best competitors from each side. Each take turns sliding toward site. Whichever side has the competitor who slides closest to the mosque site wins.
7.) Two words: interpretive dance
6.) Five more words: All-American hotdog eating contest
5.) The whole issue should be decided by a thorough round of "Your Mom" jokes. The winner's Mom gets control over the mosque site.
4.) Stand across the line of protest. Each member of opposing team gets a chance to toss a grape into the mouth of the opponent across from them. For every time you catch a grape, your side gets a point. First team to ten gets mosque-ness.
3.) Four more words: double dutch jump rope.
2.) Two more words: ultimate Frisbee

And the number one way for opponents and supporters to approach the mosque controversy more peacefully:
A good, old-fashioned spelling bee. First word: "Calm the heck down. The people who committed 9/11 would love nothing MORE than to see us all fighting." Ok, so that was more like nineteen-ish words, but you get my drift.

But wouldn't it be nice if the world's problems could be solved by a quick game of limbo or go fish?

A Visit From an Old Friend

2010-08-15T22:28:00.003-04:00

So, before the main event today, I'd like to let you all know that the Monkey has created his own twitter account. (Side note: if you are not familiar with the monkey, go to the labels sections and click the label "The Monkey," to read more about this evil little bastard.) I warned him he better not do anything distasteful, but I can't promise anything. Anyhow, feel free to follow him on twitter @FightMonkeyStev. Now, on to the post!

Today, my friends and I were getting ready to shoot more for a new blog video for you fine people when I heard a knock at the door. And when I opened the door, low and behold, there he was. Praise heaven, for he has returned!

That's right, ladies and gentlemen...it was our old friend Fred.

Now, in case you're new around here, here's how I met Fred last summer.

I invited him to be a part of today's video shoot, but he was too busy to oblige today. Still, I like to think he was happy (and by "happy" I mean "terrified") to see me!

Next time, Fred...next time. I still love you...even though now I have to deploy a set of ninja squirrels to rough you up for refusing me today. I'll tell them to go easy, though. I want you healthy for next time!

'Twas a happy Sunday surprise.

Something's Fishy

2010-08-13T22:57:00.006-04:00

Today, I have a very special animal cool-ety for you, Blog Club! My hubby had a rare day off, so he and I took a little trip to the Georgia Aquarium, which happens to be the world's largest aquarium. I thought I'd share a few of my pictures from today and introduce you to what I think are the coolest animals I saw. Meet:

"Hello. I am a hammerhead shark. Meet your doom."

Stinging Nettles. Sting for sport.

"We are sharks. Please for us to eat you?

Are we noticing a pattern here yet?

Electric eels. Prepare to be electrocuted.

"We is jellies. Back off, bitches!"

More sharks. Will be killing you now.

"We are the piranhas. We are in your waters, tearin' off your skins."

And last but not least, the most badass of them all...

"I'm a seahorse. Welcome to your hell."

Oh, wait...

So, which is your favorite?

What the...: Putting the X in Exercise

2010-08-07T23:04:00.004-04:00

I must start today's blog by saying...I have no idea what this is about to do to my search terms on google. Heaven help. Now, on to the post!

By now, most of you have probably seen this abomination on TV. But in case you haven't, ladies and gentlemen, I give you...the shake weight.

Okay, okay. Okay. Okay. (Side note: I'm saying "okay" a lot in a drastic, last ditch effort to filter all of the really crude jokes I could make while I wait for the less crass analysis to seep in.) (Side note 2: Do not use the word "seep" in sentences referring to the shake weight. It does not help the crude jokes diminish any faster.)

Okay. I'm ready now.

I have to ask, Shake Weight People...what in the name of sweet cartwheeling Jesus were you thinking? "Hey! I have the perfect invention! Women could hold a cylindrical object and pump their arms up and down rhythmically. Women will love to work out their arms that way (if they're sluts.)!" Come on, Shake Weight People...not only would that commercial cause even the Amish to break out in laughter if they watched TV, but creepy old men and Richard Simmons are probably performing a similar motion to that commercial in their weird, lava-lamp decorated basements.

What's next for you guys, huh? "Tired of your lips looking thin and in a line? Want the sexy, pouty 'O' of a mouth like Marilyn Monroe? Try the brand new O Stick! It's a simple cylinder approximately five inches in circumference with a rounded tip, which you insert into your mouth for twenty-five repetitions, five times a day. It'll shape and define your lips into the pouty O you've always wanted!" What they won't say on the commercial: "But you might want to do those repetitions in private...ya freakin' slut!"

For the record, there is also a shake weight for men that says it was developed by scientists who proved the motion of the Shake Weight could do for your muscles in 6 minutes what a standard dumbbell took over forty minutes to do. What do you want to bet the guy who figured that out was the one of the same guys behind the development of Viagra?

He's also most likely one of those basement guys I was talking about earlier.

It's the circle of liiiiiife! And it moves us aaaa-allll!

What's the strangest piece of exercise equipment you've ever seen?

Coming Soon to a Llama Blog Near You!

2010-07-31T18:37:00.003-04:00

Hola, Blog Club! Not much time today because I'm oh-so-very busy working on a surprise for you all (hint: it's a music video. Oh, wait, that wasn't really a "hint" so much as "telling you the surprise." Oops.). Anyway, I'm jumping in to give you a little taste of what is coming up, so without further ado, I present to you the Top Ten Pieces of Mysterious Equipment Used in the Upcoming Blog Video:

10.) LOTS of toilet paper
9.) Wings (buffalo, bumble bee, airplane...I'll leave that up to your imaginations!)
8.) A guitar-shaped container that holds a special liquid
7.) A lamp shade
6.) A flashlight
5.) A vase of dead flowers
4.) Applesauce
3.) Dirty laundry
2.) An air vent

And the number one piece of mysterious equipment used in the upcoming blog video it:
a hose...at midnight.

Stay tuned...

The Little Engine That Could, and Why He Did Us No Favors

2010-07-26T20:14:00.009-04:00

Before the main event, I'd just like to throw out a giant congratulations to my very first ballroom partner, Josh, whose group won the $10k first prize last Friday night on CMT's "Your Chance to Dance!" If you didn't see the show, here's what you missed:

I'm so proud! On to the post!

Despite my starting with this giant bit of good news, I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I am not an optimist. I won't apologize for it, either, because I'm not sure when it became the thing to be. I suppose it all started with that stupid train. "I think I can, I think I can!" *Sigh* I have some news for you: Tiger Woods thought he could keep nine hundred affairs a secret. If you want to know if positive thinking always helps things, ask the back window of Tiger's SUV...

Don't get me wrong. I'm not knocking positive thinking in its entirety. I'm simply pointing out that "positive" isn't synonymous with "good." Testing positive for tuberculosis, for example, would not be high up on the "to do" list. Being positive your cousin is a serial killer because you've just found a dozen frozen fingers in his freezer? Not a good thing.

Then again, there are plenty of people on earth who are positive thinkers to the point of recklessness. Optimists might call these types, "insufferable optimists." I think of them more as "in denial." You know these guys. They're the ones who find the fingers in the freezer and rather than seeing them as killer trophies, they say, "Oh! He must be doing some kind of scientific research to find a cure for finger cancer!" (Side note: He's researching an illness all right. It's called "How I can exploit these people who always think the best of people" disease.)

These are the very same people who will have this conversation with the guy who just found out he has TB:
Guy: "I have TB. My life sucks."
Insufferable Optimist: "Aw, that's hard. But think positive!"
Guy: "Okay. I have TB. I'm positive my life sucks."

All I'm saying is that positive thinking might get you somewhere, but it might not always be the right place. The Heaven's Gate cult was positive the Hale-Bopp comet was a sign they should all drink the kool aid to elevate to a spacecraft.

Whether or not a positive number and a negative number yields a positive number depends on the equation. Adding kool aid and a rare astronomic event to morons equals a lot of dead people who may or may not be travelling to a higher plane of existence in the tail of a comet. Call me a pessimist, but I have a feeling they'd have had a better chance at boarding the space craft if they'd hired the guy with TB to construct it out of Dead Finger Cousin's freezer appendages.

So, call it...optimist or pessimist? In denial? In a spacecraft?

Serious Saturday: It's Not (Always) My Job

2010-07-24T15:01:00.004-04:00

Dearest Blog Club, today, I'm letting myself off the hook for something.

As many of you already know, I am a chronic worrier. I worry all the time about big things, small things, medium sized things...I worry. Recently, one issue I've thought a lot about is keeping in touch with friends.

Now, I think it's important to keep in touch with friends. I may not always do a perfect job of it, but I always want people in my life to know they are important to me and that I care. However, I've noticed in recent days I'll suddenly realize I haven't called so-and-so lately, or I haven't e-mailed so-and-so in two whole weeks. I immediately start to worry they think I've forgotten them or don't hold them in high regard, etc. Must...plan...something...soon!

But today, it hit me: so-and-so is just as capable of calling me as I am him or her. So-and-so number two can just as easily send me an e-mail as I can him or her. I'm not the type of person to not return messages. I'm not the type of person to not return calls. Therefore, maybe I can cut myself a little slack. Unless one of the hypothetical so-and-so's is conducting a weird psychological experiment to test how long I will go without hearing from them before I initiate contact, then if one of my pals needs me, they'll give me a buzz. I'm here.

Phew. I'm glad I noticed that.

Are you a caller or a wait-to-be-called?

Animal Cool-ety: I'm SO Angry!

2010-07-20T00:01:00.007-04:00

Ok, Blog Club. This pisses me off:

He is not only sticking his tongue out at me, but he is called the sun bear. What the heck is so sunny about him? Does he also have tummy art and a cloud car?

This also pisses me off:

Look me in the eye when I'm talking to you, rabbit! LOOK ME IN THE EYE!

But nothing...nothing...pisses me off more than what I'm about to show you, Blog Club. Meet...the Red Panda.

Um, okay, so if you are a panda, why the hell do you look like a fox? Why do you look like a raccoon? And why do you NOT look like a panda? In English, this little bastard is also known as the "Lesser Panda." Dear scientists, may I kindly suggest a slight variation: "Notta Panda." He is also sometimes known as the Fire Cat. Oh, so now you're a cat, too, big boy? Did your mom tell you you could be anything you wanted to be when you grew up? She tell you that, huh? Did she also tell you we don't take kindly to fox/raccoon/cats who are technically closer to the weasel family? (Side note: He'sa weasel. I told you he was sketch.)

So, for all of these reasons, the red panda is a lying liar who lies about his confusing shapeshifter existence, which makes him NOT cool. He is also prone to rampant drug use, as displayed by this photo. Steer clear:

Fox? Bear? Cat? Raccon? Heidi Montag after her latest surgery? What do you think it is?

Recycling is Good for You!

2010-07-16T14:29:00.004-04:00

Ladies and Gentleman, this is a cop-out blog. Well, then again, no it isn't. I was just thinking how I haven't posted many pictures of the nekkid kitteh on my blog since I got him, and it made me think of this post I wrote a couple years ago. So, without further ado, I present a recycled blog post, Wrinkly Velvet Skin:

Let's talk for just a moment about what I would be like if I was a cat (Side note: Just because you don't take the time out of your busy day to think about this glorious notion doesn't mean that the rest of us don't!). In fact, I often think about what my life would be like as a variety of animals, but today's animal is a cat.First of all, I would definitely be a short-haired cat. Because while I love the long-haired variety, I have a pretty bad gag reflex and therefore feel like bathing myself would be preferable if I were short-haired. Especially since I like to take a lot of baths, although that might change if I were a cat and forced to bathe with my tongue (Side note: what did the cats do to piss God off so much that he forced them to bathe with their tongues? Maybe it was the whole being worshipped by Egyptians. God didn't like the Egyptians worshipping the cat, and He wasn't happy that the cats didn't correct them. But I digress.) Actually, it would be even better if I was a sphynx cat...then I would be all nude, all the time. That would be fantastic. AND I would be wrinkly, and wrinkly velvet skin is right on up there on my list of hotness. Yes, I'd be a sphynx.

If I was a cat, I'd spend a lot of time staring at people that didn't like cats (Side note: like me sister). I would just look at them, watching them squirm uncomfortably in their seats as they hope I'll look away soon. But I won't. They would try to act like it didn't bother them, try to ignore me, but I would be able to tell I was freaking them out. They would by now be silently begging me to stop, but I won't. I'm just going to keep on staring until they get so uncomfortable that they leave. And after they leave, I will go and lay in that nice warm chair they got up from.

If I was a cat, I would have a tail. I would swish my tail in people's faces, all the better for them to notice my magnificent new appendage. And if they still didn't notice it, I would stick my tail in their mouth while they sleep, because that's what angry cats with impressive, wrinkly tails do. The picture below is a little of what I imagine I would look like.

And alas, two years later, I have this:
What would you do if you were a cat?

Serious Sunday: Swing It, Baby!

2010-07-11T20:57:00.008-04:00

Before the main event, I must say...I didn't make it to 100 followers. I'm going to chalk this up to the fact that I didn't work hard enough during the week of the contest rather than face the unacceptable thought that I can't get that many. (Note to self: do top ten list on ways to get 100 followers). Perhaps soon I'll do a little more hardcore follower drive! That said, welcome to the new members of the Blog Club, because I adore and appreciate you even if you weren't number one hundred (Side note: though if you HAD been number one hundred, I'd have bought you one of those prank flowers that squirts people in the eye. I'm just sayin'.) And, without further ado, I would like to announce the winner of the BIG contest (Side note: and when I say "big," I mostly mean, "small"). The drawing has been drawn, and the name in my hand is...

Gypsyscarlett! If you'll send me an e-mail at colbymarshall1 at aol, I will chat with you about naming your character! :-) Now, on to the post!

For the past eight weeks, I've had the honor of working with an amazing cast, crew, orchestra, and group of directors on Swing! the Musical. We opened this past Friday night. My ankle feels like poo from being chucked in a flip over a 6'4/5" guy's head (Side note: Thank you, Kenny!), and my throat is a bit scratchy from crawling around on the floor as I molest a bass (Side note: guitar kind, not fish kind- also not kidding!). I'm bruised from head to toe (Side note: okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but I am bruised to the extent that another girl in the show and I have paperdolls on our dressing room mirrors so we can mark our new "boo boos" each night!), but I couldn't be happier.

Dancing is to me what *insert drug* is to an addict. I've loved it since I was two, and though I've since traded in the pink tutu for backless Latin dresses (Side note: sorry, Mom!), dance is something that once it is in your blood, there's no getting it out. It is one of the most brilliant natural highs on earth, and I swear, I've been on a "dance high" now for four days straight! Which for me is even more exciting, because Swing! is just the beginning: my new ballroom partner and I are prepping for competition in October! So, there's lots of dance to look forward to in the coming months!

Well, I don't have any video of the throw over oh-so-tall Kenny's head or any bass-touching footage, but I will leave you with a couple little teaser videos of my show partner Mark (Side note: I'm describing all these partners! It's getting confusing!) and I doing pieces of our West Coast Swing solo during dress rehearsal. I can only show these two tiny clips because they won't violate copyright because of fair use, but I hope they're enough to wet your appetite so that if you're in town, you'll run out and buy your tickets to see Swing tomorrow! We run at Macon Little Theatre Wed., July 14-Sat., July 17 every night at 8 pm and then Sun., July 18 at 2:30 pm.

So tell me...what lights you up?

Personality Breeds: I Know About That

2010-07-07T15:51:00.004-04:00

Before the main event, I'd like to announce that I am trying to reach a 100 followers of Spittin'. Therefore, in the spirit of that goal, anyone following this blog by 11:59 Saturday night (July 10) will be entered into a drawing to win the chance to name a murder victim in my current work in progress! So, pass this along if you're up for it, and if there's anyone you're just dying to kill off (Side note: get it? dying to...oh, nevermind), follow! Follow even if you're a pacifist! Follow if you're Amish! Oh, wait...

On to the post!

Do you that guy (Side note: and no, I'm not talking about Howard) who knows everything? I met him once. No, I think I've met him twice. Hold on...it was two different guys. Ah, now I'm seeing what it was. He is a personality breed: the authority on every subject.

This guy is a bit different from the know-it-all. The know-it-all has more of a bossy quality about him, and the know-it-all is very rarely someone you like other than their "knowledge." The authority on every subject is someone who might otherwise be fun, smart, enjoyable. However, he has the flaw of being quite convinced that he alone can tell you the wingspan of the South Slobobian Hairbrush Bird, even if you are a South Slobobian Hairbrush Bird expert and have been breeding South Slobobian Hairbrush Birds in your basement for nineteen years. Why? He read an article about it on wikipedia. His brother's roommate's fifth cousin's friend once saw a South Slobobian Hairbrush Bird on his trip to Africa. There is a picture of the S.S.H.B. in one of his "toilet reading" books.

He will also tell you how to breed the S.S.H.B. properly. Apparently, you have not been doing so for nineteen years despite the millions you've made in successfully competing your S.S.H.B.s in your local S.S.H.B. shows. He alone can tell you how to hone your technique, for he watched a Discovery Channel special on the S.S.H.B.

Don't worry about him not having enough to do, either. After he is finished correcting your horrifying attempt at doing something you've made your life's work, he's off to give tips to Jon Stewart on proper comedic timing.

Know any Authorities?

Viva la Blog Club!

2010-07-03T15:30:00.006-04:00

Today, I tell all nine or ten of you something sad: there aren't as many of you in the Blog Club as there once were (Side note: there used to be thirteen...). I know this is my fault. I disappeared on everyone, so I don't blame you guys for only checking this page when you've exhausted all other channels of ridding yourselves of boredom, including but not limited to testing the blast radius of the ketchup bottle in your refrigerator, tracing your own hand for animal art, and attempting to set a world record for fastest completion of the obstacle course you've created in your living room.

However, today I'm issuing the mea culpa in hopes you will drop by more often and thrill me with your fabulous comments. I'm pledging here and now that I will be here at least three times a week; every day if I can so manage it. I swear it on Matt Damon's delicious hiney (Side note: And it is sinfully delicious. By the way, how do you spell "hiney"?). Therefore, in hopes of a Blog Club reunion, I present to you the Top Ten Reasons to be an Active Blog Club Member:

10.) Blog Club members eat free on Saturdays at McDonalds! Only, you might want to grab your food and run really fast with it, because I'm not sure they know...

9.) If you're a member, when I finally do my little experiment involving Krazy Glue, marbles, and a family of oddly aggressive meerkats, it won't be on you.

8.) You too can learn how to play the harmonica! (Side note: I didn't say you would learn it here, I'm just pointing out that I will happily cheer you on, send you harmonica care packages, and/or make fun of your harmonica playing on twitter.)

7.) Blog Club members have tax exempt status (in a parallel universe and anywhere sea monkeys are sold.).

6.) Three words: I'm a biter.

5.) Instead of those dinky decoder rings, our cereal boxes comes with cooler prizes like ninja stars and tasers.

4.) If I ever do f*** Matt Damon, I'll totally give you guys the inside scoop and an exclusive interview, plus an autographed copy of a xerox of my hand, which would be the hand that touched Matt Damon's sinfully delicious hiney. (Side note: Hieny? Heinie? Hieney?)

3.) My mailman is sneakier than your mailman.

2.) Peer pressure.

And the Number One Reason to Be and Active Blog Club Member:

Because Morgan Freeman said so. And we ALL know what that means. You couldn't say no to Morgan, could you?

Have you ever taken a hiatus from your blog? How did you get back into the groove?

A Frozen Treat

2010-06-29T16:04:00.003-04:00

I don't even think this needs an introduction- it's been a long time in the making. Here it comes.

Do you have a "guilty pleasure" song?

Foot note: If you are looking for this foot note, we're playing find the hidden Mickeys...and friends. Leave your guess in the comments. The winner will get a spiffy surprise! :-)

Too Much Information?

2010-06-25T16:01:00.005-04:00

Before we arrive at the main event, let me take a moment to steer you toward my friend Lizzie's new blog. You don't know her yet, but let's just say you will soon (*maniacal laughter*). Pop by and welcome her to the blog-o-sphere at www.ninja-chronicles.blogspot.com !

Now that the announcements are out of the way, I have something serious to talk to you folks about: the gynecologist.

I know, I know...we're not supposed to talk about our visits to the gynecologist (are we?). But since when have I let that stop me? You're right: never.

This week, I had to go for that lovely yearly checkup. I was taken into a room, where I obligingly slipped into the oh-so-comfortable paper gown they arranged for me and leaped like a gazelle onto the table to wait for the doc to come back into the room. (Side note: There are posters on the ceiling. You can read all about how your daily serving of milk can prevent bone problems if only you happened to bring your monocle and/or magnifying glass with you into the hoo-hah doctor.)

After lying on the self-warming table for a few minutes (Side note: it took me a minute to realize the table was warming on its own and that I hadn't caught some sort of terrible heat rash from one of the chairs in the lobby), the doctor finally came in. As soon as he walked in the door, he started to laugh hysterically.

I don't know about you, but to me, this is never a good sign. The man looks at--erm--Venus Fly Traps all day...I guess he was bound to lose it at some point. But still, did it have to be during my fifteen minutes?

"I'm sorry," he says, "It's just that of all my patients, you're the only one that sits like that!"

At this point, I take inventory of what I'm doing. I'm lying back on the table, which inconveniently stops at my knees. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't put my feet in the stirrups until I have to; something about lying there with my feet splayed when the doc walks in the door seems a little too "Grand Opening today! Welcome, patrons!" for me. So, being the lady that I am, I prop one foot on one of the stirrups, and I daintily prop the other foot on top so that my feet are crossed at the ankles.

"How do other people sit?" I ask, a little appalled. After all, this is the only way it has ever occurred to me to arrange myself on one of these tables.

And do you know what? He didn't really tell me. I don't know if he just didn't realize I wanted a detailed sketch of other possible non-patooty-parading poses or if the answer was written Where's Waldo style somewhere in the ceiling poster. Either way, I still don't know the answer.

So, help me out, Blog Club. Put it all out there (in a figurative and not-so-much "to the Bat Cave!"sense, of course). What are the other options?

Dear Howard, How Have You Been?

2010-06-22T23:56:00.001-04:00

When I was in New York City a few weeks ago for BEA, I was on the shuttle back to the hotel when I heard the strangest conversation going on behind me. There were these two guys talking at a sound level usually reserved for a Bon Jovi concert; it was almost as if they were making it a point to have everyone on the shuttle hear what they were discussing. However, they weren't talking about anything about which someone would want others to hear, like "Oh my gosh, I had lunch with R.L. Stine! (Side note: I did!). Oh, no. They were talking about checking their e-mail.

"I didn't have a chance to check my e-mail this morning."

"I checked mine today when I woke up just before I showered."

"Maybe I can check mine before we eat dinner."

"I might check mine before dinner as well."

Then, After Dinner But Not Morning E-Mailer whipped out his cell phone. He proceeded to have a phone call with someone named Howard, during which he referred to Howard by name...and often.

"It's so good to hear your voice, Howard!"

"How are you feeling, Howard?"

"You have to take it easy, Howard!"

"Howard, I know it's been a rough week."

"I have to go now, Howard. I'm at the hotel, Howard. Yes, Howard, I'll be home at the end of the week. Goodbye, Howard."

Okay, now...you know how they say (Side note: you know...them) that one of the many "tells" of the liar is their lack of gestures and/or robotic movement? Well, actually, that may be the case with the every day liar, but with certain liars, the opposite is true. Consider the psychopath. (Side note: Did I really just say, "Consider the psychopath?" As in, "Consider the daffodil?" Sigh.) Dr. Robert Hare found during his research on psychopaths that their speech when lying (which is what they're doing any time they try talk about things they should talk about with emotion since psychopaths do not have consciences and cannot feel emotion like you and I) actually contains an abnormal amount of hand gestures. People gesture their hands when they are trying to find words. For a psychopath, this is any time he is talking about something where emotions are required, since emotion is like a foreign language to him. He knows what he SHOULD act like, and the hand "beats" are helping him to "get out" the way he must behave to fool others. (Side note: You should read his book, by the way. Without a Conscience...it's fascinating!).

Ok, long story short (*ignores group in the corner chanting, "Too late! Too late!"*), this has me wondering: if an overuse of hand gestures in the psychopath indicates absence of emotion and truth, did the overuse of his name indicate the absence of Howard? And if so, who was that psychopath on the bus talking to behind me?

And suddenly, all of the conversations suddenly made sense, and the puzzle pieces snapped into place. E-mails, Howard, beats, psychopath...he was talking to the Mailman, who I've always known is out to get me. He is sneaky, and he is not to be trusted. Let's revisit this conversation, shall we?

"It's so good to hear your voice, Howard!" now sounds like, "Yes, she's right in front of me."

"How are you feeling, Howard?" is now "Should I take her down here, or do you want her alive?"

"You have to take it easy, Howard," reads, "Standing by."

"Howard, I know it's been a rough week." = "If we're gonna move, we gotta move, boss!"

"I have to go now, Howard. I'm at the hotel now, Howard. Yes, Howard, I'll be home at the end of the week, Howard. Goodbye, Howard," translates to, "Damn it, she's onto us. We'll get her next time boss!"

You call it paranoid; I call it vigilant. Howard is out there...or is he?

Geographically Untraceable

2010-06-05T17:22:00.003-04:00

I have a confession to make. Hold on to the seat of your rickety computer chair, because it will blow your mind. *Deep breath* I know nothing about my heritage.

There. I said it. What do you think of them apples?

Okay, so maybe it's not as big of a deal as I made it out to be, but sometimes I feel it is. I have met so many people who say things like, "Oh, I'm half Polish," or "Yes, I'm French." Um...the last time I checked, I was American. Wait a sec...I'll look again...

Yep. I'm still American.

See, for some people, it makes sense for them to flaunt their heritage. For example, if they have family who still integrates that particular culture into their lives, I can see it. I have a friend who is of Irish descent, and his family takes part in a lot of Irish traditions, cooking, etc. I have more than one friend whose family is Italian and is, well, still Italian.

It's these folks who just kind of randomly "know" their background but don't know their background who I take issue with. If you want to declare your East Lower Slobobian pride, be my guest, but please have the decency to at least know who the prime minister of East Lower Slobobia is, for God's sake. Everyone knows East Lower Slobobians eat nine meals a day and drink only the juice pressed from freshly picked tiger lilies. Bone up on your E.L.S. facts before you don the E.L.S. t-shirt.

Come to think of it, maybe I should learn about my heritage. If I'm from E.L.S., I could be eating a lot more...

Do you know where you came from?

Nude, Lewd, and in the Mood

2010-06-02T23:33:00.003-04:00

The English language is funny to me.

The English language is funny to me, unlike honey, which isn't as humorous. It is quite tasty, though. It's not nasty like mayonnaise. Mayonnaise just puts me in a bad mood. The mood it plunges me into is a bit rude. Taking a bite out of a sandwich slathered with mayonnaise makes me want to to draw blood. In fact, if I found out someone put the mayo there on purpose, heads would roll. I would lead the culprit to a room, and it would be safe to assume they would never leave. Believe it...or not.

Speaking of knots, were you aware that the average person consumes something like eight spiders in their lifetime? So they ate eight spiders? You have to be kidding me! To eat eight spiders is gross. To have had your mouth violated in this way is a loss of innocence one can never truly get over. Unless, of course, you found a lover with a lot of couth. In that case, you might just win the race to overcome your fears because love conquers all. And that's the truth.

Booth.

I've LOST My Mind

2010-05-28T11:38:00.000-04:00

Lost ended this week. I am in need of a rant. If you haven't seen it, STOP READING NOW. SPOILER WARNING.

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My questions were promised to be answered. Somehow, in the last 2.5 hours, they assured me I would know. Well, I don't know. So, I have prepared my list of questions (and by "questions" I mean "grievances") I still have. And, because I do not have answers, I have also drawn some of my own conclusions (and by "conclusions" I mean "wild conjecture"). So hang on tight, because here we go!

*Item 1: What was so special about Walt?

Speculation: Walt was, in fact, the pilot of the plane. The crash was entirely his fault, and the Others were aware of this detail. They believed him to be an evil genius who could fight the smoke monster. You know what they say: fight fire with fire (or smoke with smoke, as the case may be). Unfortunately for them, they underestimated his ability to read their minds. He knew exactly what they were trying to do, and so he played dumb.

*Item 2: Ok, we know the numbers were seat numbers. However, that doesn't explain why they were all over the hatch, Hurley's lotto numbers, etc. So, what were they?

Speculation: J.J. Abrams cell phone number including area code.

*Item 3: Why did the pregnant women on the island die?

Speculation: It is possible the radioactive craziness of the island caused a strange sperm defect or womb malfunction (Side note: did I really just say "womb malfunction"?) that caused an--erm--fetus malfunction at a certain point in development. However, it is my assessment that the writers thought to themselves, "Claire covered the obligatory labor and delivery episode of the show. What could we do with the pregnant people that hasn't been done? I know! Kill them!" What? You think I'm wrong? You think they'd be that cavalier about killing off women just because they couldn't figure out what to do with them? Well, maybe you should ask Mr. Echo, Libby, Anna Lucia, Boone, Charlie, Ethan, and those random two people buried alive back in season one-ish for their opinions.

*Item 4: Why polar bears?

Speculation: Because we needed a little bit of realism.

*Item 5: Why did Charles Widmore's character even exist?

Speculation: Charles Widmore: "Can humans actually resist large evidence *of* suspicious wasps (intricately drawn *as* masterminds) over *the* ridiculously elementary?

Item 5: Where was the island?

Speculation: The island was originally planned to be Purgatory. However, when fans of the show began to hypothesize that the island was "limbo," the writers' dreams of being omniscient enigmas drowned faster than Charlie in the Looking Glass station. So to appear more mysterious, they vehemently denied the purgatory theory, thinking they'd have plenty of time to figure it out. The show began to take wilder and wilder twists (Time travel, anyone?) as the writers prayed they'd stumble upon something that would be as good as Purgatory. They even tried to test out the Atlantis route with the disappearing island and the giant foot statue, but dang it, the f***ing fans thought of that one, too! The final episode was reached, and they were more confused than Elizabeth Mitchell, who still can't figure out how her character Juliet went from kidnapping, creepy badass to Kate's less interesting replacement for Sawyer. "How are we going to fix this?" one said to the other. He couldn't possibly tie all of the loose endings--and smoke monsters--he'd created. "I know! We'll put the dog next to Jack at the end. Everyone likes the dog. Maybe if he's there, they won't notice we didn't answer any of their questions."

That, my friends, is the end of LOST. I'll probably have more thoughts on this coming at some point, but for now, there you have it. And for the record, I'm posting this post in flight on a plane, because I'm morbid like that.

What LOST questions did you want answered?

Lyin' Like a No-Legged Dog

2010-05-12T01:42:00.004-04:00

I live in the South.

The folks down here like to think of themselves as kindly. Why, they'd never hurt a fly. (Side note: this entire paragraph should be read in the over-done Southern accent of Reece Witherspoon's character in Sweet Home Alabama). The south is somewhere men still open doors for ladies, everybody shakes hands, and we have good ole' southern hospitality.

Now, what they don't tell you is that underneath this "southern hospitality" beats a heart of a people who will put you in a southern hospital. Yep, those sickly sweet phrases that sound so rich with southern flavor are actually just an elaborate coverup. So, to help you to be sure you aren't unaware of any of the nuances around you should you ever visit the Peach State (and for a laugh if you live here), I'm presenting you with a few handy pointers.

First of all, if someone ever utters the words, "I do declare," you better believe they aren't declarin' what they are thinkin'! Those words mask all other thoughts, thoughts that must be held in. Why, good southerners can't be rude by shootin' out every little thought that comes into our heads now can we? Instead, we declare...that we can't declare.

Second, let's say you move here and become a waitress. If you ever fill someone's sweet tea glass and hear them say, "That's gracious plenty," that's code for "I didn't mean that much, f***er!" And if you're the customer and the waitress tells you to, "Hold your horses!" Well, you should probably chill out, because if you don't, you and that waitress are fixin' to have words--or fists--in a shake of a lamb's tail.

And last but certainly not least, when Betty and Sue are sitting around talking about Martha Mae and how she's out partying, drinking, and sleeping with too many men and they say, "Bless her heart..." I think it's pretty safe to say they aren't exactly priests. But Southern gals can't just say "That girl is cheap tramp and a homewrecker who's just about the biggest whore I've ever seen." Southern girls can't say, "F*** you, Martha Mae. You suck at life!"

Oh, wait. Yes we can. F*** you, Martha Mae! And f*** your heart, too! (Side note: Wow, that was hostile. I'm not sure what sparked that. But I did enjoy it.)

Are there any sayings specific to your locale?

The In Flight Restaurant

2010-04-26T09:55:00.002-04:00

So, I'm on my way home from the Big Apple, and I'm typing this post from a mile in the air :-) Now, if only I could convince Airtran that it was a good idea to serve spaghetti mid-flight, I'd be set.

Speaking of spaghetti, while on my trip I got to eat some awesome food, but it made me think a bit about what I'd serve if I had a restaurant of my own. Therefore, I'm happy to present my menu!

Appetizers:
*Cheese Sticks (you can't not have cheese sticks)
*Bowl of Pickles (dill or kosher dill...nothing else. Also, if you ask for another type of pickle, you will promptly be escorted from the premises, beaten with a spatula, and banned for the rest of your life.)
*Chips and Salsa. The lowest intensity of salsa available is medium. And you know what? If you don't like hot salsa, refer to the previous appetizer entry.

Soups:
*Sicilian Chicken Soup, brought to you by the chef that I did NOT kidnap from Carrabba's. How dare you suggest I would do such a thing!
You have to get this soup. It is your only option, because it is the best soup in the world, and I don't think it's questionable. Take that.

Salads:
There aren't salads here. We don't do salad.

Entrees:
*Spaghetti Marinara, available with or without meatballs (Please note if you order any other entree besides this one, we will need two forms of photo ID, a detailed family tree, and a urine sample. You will also be subject to hostile interrogation and/or alien probe.)
*Salmon...fried, because that is the only way. It is served with a side order of macaroni and cheese and english peas, because that is what goes with salmon patties. Sides cannot be substituted; no exceptions.
*Cubed Steak- again, fried.
*Rice and gravy...a giant plate of it. That is all.
*Cinnamon toast Crunch, complete with milk.
Yeah, I think that's pretty much it. If you're on a no carb diet...or any diet...I guess you're screwed. Oops.

Desserts:
*Lemon bars
*Banana Split
*14 Layer Chocolate Cake
*Ice cream with milk (Yes, it has to come with milk; it does not come alone.)

Well, there you have it: my menu! You may now place your orders!

Backed Up

2010-04-23T08:08:00.000-04:00

Some people get constipated (Side note: how many blogs do you read that have that as a first sentence?); I accrue pent-up sarcastic commentary. Between manuscript revisions, a show, and life simply crowding the way, I've somehow forgotten to blog about some very important irritations. I started to write an entire blog about where I've been recently, but then I decided that would be wasting valuable time. After all, you guys don't want to know the boring stuff; you want to hear bitter diatribes about what, for most, are completely innocuous and inconsequential situations. It doesn't really matter when you bash things...just so long as you bash them. Keeping that in mind, here we go!

My first order of business has to be the American Cancer Society's recent commercials declaring that it is "the official sponsor of birthdays." Hm. Now, there are a couple of issues I would take with this,but forget me. You know who else would probably take issue with this? God. I'm pretty sure He has a monopoly on birthdays, deaths, tornadoes...you know, all the biggies. Unless, of course, we're counting Chuck Norris. After all, I hear Chuck Norris' tears could cure cancer if he ever cried. The conclusion? American Cancer Society, stop spending your valuable assets sponsoring birthdays and throw a few resources at kidnapping Chuck Norris. Impossible? Maybe. Worth trying? Definitely. On camera. On its own reality show.

My next complaint? Miley Cyrus...as a mentor on American Idol. Ok, can we just talk about this Fox? Are you trying to make my brain bleed? I found it interesting that this was the week of the show when the world basically discussed how much idol sucks and the judges slammed almost every singer for not being up to par. Coincidence? I think not. But, hey, maybe she can just hold up her hand in a peace sign and no one will notice...

My final issue for today (I'm so backed up there is no way to get them all out in one blog) is the way some basketball teams are referred to as "Cinderella stories." Hey, ESPN, I have news for you: Cinderella would like to tell you all to f*** off! Not only does she not play basketball, but she finds sweaty mean in nylon repellent. There is no way she'd be caught dead anywhere near that many plastic cups filled with cheap beer. Get a new mascot, low-ranked tournament teams!

So, that's what's on my mind today...what's on yours?

Do Not Tap on Glass

2010-02-18T22:26:00.003-05:00

It has been a long time since I've blogged about children. So...suffice it to say...oh, boy, have I collected some fuel for this fire.

Today, I was eating out with a friend, and I made a horrifying mistake: I sat at the table next to the door to the indoor playground. So, there I was, eating my chicken nuggets and talking over something with my pal. When suddenly, my eyes can't help but wander to the side.

There is a blonde boy standing there, his hands and face pressed up against the glass, staring at us. Now, anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that I know what is going on. He is attempting to read my mind. (Side note: for those of you unfamiliar with the mind-reading tactics of children, please refer to this post for specifics).

Now, I have to say, I am unfamiliar with the affect of plexiglass on thought waves. So, I do the only thing I can: I freeze. I don't look at him. If I don't look at him, he'll move on. It's kind of the same thing as a possum playing dead, only with children, you have to simply not react to them. If you react, they see your fear and will move accordingly. No reactions causes them to realize there is no--ahem--life to be sucked out, and so they will move on to a more active victim.

The parents of said child did not discourage his attempts; how could they, when they were so busy dealing with the wailing of the other child who was convinced it was injured every five minutes? There was also a baby there--or as I like to refer to it,a "fresh one." The baby was pleasant, however, which only served as confirmation on my theory that it's the older ones you have to look out for. The bad thing about babies is that, well, unfortunately they will reach age five sooner or later. If we could only create a Delorean that could zing them past the mind-reading years, everything would be hunky-dory.

Until then, I suppose it's time to make some more tin foil hats...

So,what do you guys think should happen when kids act up in public?

Bliz. Zard.

2010-02-12T22:56:00.003-05:00

*Sigh* It's days like these I really, really hate that I live in the South.

Okay, so maybe it's not living in the South that I hate...maybe it's the idiots who surround me. Let me backtrack, because I'm getting ahead of myself here.

Today, it snowed. Yep, there will inevitably be one day a year when it snows, and by God, you had better be ready to watch people hunker down like the President has just come on TV to announce we're being attacked by martians. Cases of bottled water fly off the shelves faster than you can say, "Overreact." Canned foods are stocked as well as milk and bread. (Side note: Frosty white precipitation somehow apparently causes all bland food items to vanish and the water supply to go into jeopardy. Apparently, snow is a magician.) Schools are cancelled. (Side note: mind you, at this point, no snow has actually happened. The schools and businesses were closed based on the threat of snow alone.)

Then, the snow does end up coming down (Side note: I say this because cancelled schools and flying bread happened about a month or so ago based on the threat of a predicted snow that never happened). Therefore, when it happens, all hell breaks loose. The city has shut down, and the streets are quiet. No one will move from their homes until it is over; we must all bolster our courage and pray for daylight.

By the way, I think it might be two inches at most. Send care packages...we're talking SERIOUS blizzard here. Armageddon.

The Birthday of Champions

2010-02-07T01:19:00.005-05:00

It's official...as of today, I've spend a quarter of a century on this earth! (*cue rowdy chorus of "Happy Birthday," followed by champagne bottles popping*).

Oh...wait...

I'm sitting in front of my computer with a glass of Hawaiian punch, listening to Anouk play on Napster and texting with a friend. My ears are uncomfortably warm. I'm wearing mismatched pajamas with a stain on the front of my t-shirt.

Okay, so perhaps not so glamorous. But, who cares if I'm not celebrating like wild, because the day is VERY young.

Oh...wait...

It's Super Bowl Sunday. Everyone knows there's nothing Colby loves MORE than a good football game.

Oh...wait...

Ok, so far this blog is NOT going the way I intended it. So, instead, I'm going to list 25 Wishes for my 25th Birthday! Here we go, in no particular order:

25) To win the lottery and travel.

24) Sarah Palin would be eaten by a pack of rogue moose avenging the deaths of their cousins.

23) My own dragon.

22) My family and friends to have perfect years with every happiness life has to offer.

21) I wish for the return of Meerkat Manor.

20) That I'll actually get around to replacing my dingy old wallpaper this year.

19) Please, Dear Sweet Baby Jesus, let all the questions be answered on LOST.

18) And maybe replacing the carpet if I strike gold.

17) Miley Cyrus to commit herself to insane asylum for a period not to be shorter than five calendar years in order to give the generation o brainwashed children the chance to return from her hypnotism. That, or undergo voluntary gum reduction surgery.

16) That twenty-five wasn't such a big number, because this is a lot to come up with at almost two in the morning.

15) That next year my birthday will actually NOT suck.

14) A year's supply of thin mint Girl Scout Cookies, and the Monkey to feed them to me.

13) Matt Damon, naked, and wrapped in bubble wrap.

12) No pain. (Haha, that's funny, right?)

11) For Chickfila to change breakfast hours from 6-10:30 to until noon. PLEASE.

10) A trip to New York to visit Ashlee

9) Trips...to places. Period. I want travel. I can has fundage?

8) Ideas to write and the stamina to actually finish projects.

7) Shemar Moore, wrapped in nothing. Nothing.

6) Ballroom. Please, Heaven, more ballroom.

5) A book sale...or two...or eight ;-)

4) The ability to let go of things I can't control.

3) The ability to become invisible...and fly.

2) To get my Hogwarts letter.

1) For the good stuff to outweigh the bad.

Twenty-five. Good grief-- it used to seem so far away, and I suppose it will again someday. Hope you guys have a rockin' Super Bowl Sunday. Cheers!

Rehearsal: The Non-Bloopers addition

2010-02-03T18:38:00.002-05:00

So, because I did the bloopers, here's a "bonus" practice video of something more along the lines of the real thing. Hopefully at some point I'm going to have video of the actual performance--this practice is missing a lift and a screw up or two, but for now, here it is so you can see sort of kind of ish the product :-)

Ballroom Bloopers

2010-02-01T17:21:00.004-05:00

Anyone around this blog for any period of time knows one of the loves of my life is ballroom. Recently, I danced the opening number of the Foodie Awards, an Academy Awards-style event put on by M Food and Culture magazine to honor local restaurants. I always video rehearsals before dance performances I choreograph, because I find "evidence" to be the best way to go back and fix things that don't look as great as others.

But when you video, sometimes things just go flat-out wrong or people get caught goofing off when they forget the camera is going. This is why I finally decided I to cut these great clips together to make a bloopers reel of practices. Today, I have laughed myself silly watching this over and over and over again. I hope you laugh as hard as I did! :-) (Side note: with apologies to my partner and all other victims of this video, who probably never expected these clips to see daylight...)

Serious Saturday: This Little Heart O' Mine

2010-01-30T12:26:00.003-05:00

Ahoy, dear Blog Club! First off, thanks so much for your sweet comments on the last post! *Sigh* I needed that ;-). Secondly, before we get to today's post, I have a little business to take care of. I'm going to be arranging/purging/updating my Blog Roll soon. If you'd like to be included or remain included (or if you'd rather not be associated with me and would like to be removed so as to not flag anything on the radar of anyone performing an insanity check on you...) please leave it in the comments. Gracias. On to the post!

It's serious Saturday, and today I'm reflecting on what a sensitive ninny I am. (No, really...). The more I get to know myself, the more I realize just how much I take the tiniest things to heart.

Weirdly, I'm quite good at rejection on a large scale (Side note: suddenly, I wonder if I have posted on this subject before. Deja vu. Sorry if I'm right). Sure, I might wince and cry a bit over writing rejections, or I will be sad if someone hurts me. But I can take someone stabbing me hard in the back with a paring knife a lot easier than I can handle someone not replying to a text message I send or being ten minutes late to meet me for lunch.

This is a phenomenon I have not yet figured out, but my best analysis is that it has to do with my feelings of respect as a person. I think we all want to be appreciated and considered, and I think for me, little considerations become critical. Why? Well, maybe it's because the people who are going to outright do bad things to you, you don't expect to remember the little things. Hell, you don't expect anything from them! It's easy to take something crappy, because you don't hold them to a high standard.

People you know love you, however, you tend to cut a lot less slack. They are supposed to know better, damn it. How dare they have lives that supersede your e-mails?

I guess the important thing is that I know better than to think everyone should have to be present for me every second of every day. My happiness is not anyone's responsibility but my own. I am well aware of that, and I will not expect any more than that.

However, if you'd like to return my calls, I wouldn't object to that, either. ;-)

Lettuce and Loss

2010-01-27T00:05:00.003-05:00

I have a confession to make. I feel I have lost my funniness. It's something like losing an arm, only I can still chop lettuce and hold a pencil. Not at the same time, maybe. (Side note: then again, maybe I could do both at the same time if I held the pencil in my left hand and chopped with my right, but then I'd run the risk of "squirting" the head of lettuce across the counter if nothing was stabilizing it. I guess I could stab the lettuce with my left-hand pencil, but then the pencil would probably break. Unless of course it was a mechanical pencil...but I'd have to stab it really hard to get it to go through the middle...)

ANYWAY, the point is this: I feel like I am not funny anymore. I try to blog and say witty stuffs, but what used to come to me like anorexic stray cats to a bowl of day-old tuna now eludes me like anorexic stray cats, um...not being bribed with tuna. (Side note: I would like to say the word "tuna" one more time, just because I feel that any time you speak of gross-smelling fish, you should speak of it in threes.)

So, if I've lost my mojo, I have to figure out how to get it back. Someone, anyone, can you help me? Am I just so busy I've lost touch with all of the hideous celebrity moron moments and the endless array of bad products lining the shelves? Is it that I've been forced to watch so much football on television I can no longer make a pun without using the word "punt?" What's a girl to do?

Sigh. I've lost it. Reward to finder of mojo: can of day old tuna. (Side note: Tuna, tuna.)

Queen of the Damned

2010-01-17T23:40:00.005-05:00

Oh. My. Wow. It has been ALMOST THREE WEEKS since I've blogged. You might want to take out your sweater and donate it to the damned, because apparently hell has frozen over. Nevertheless, here I am. TWO WEEKS LATER.

I have had a TON going on, so I just dropped by to let you all know I haven't died/been taken prisoner by a herd of angry llamas/been eaten by a band of Scandinavian orphans. I am here. I am going to make it! I'm just busy as the non-frozen over hell, and somehow, blogging has become less of a priority to me. (I know, who'd have thought it?)

I appreciate everyone still dropping by, and I'm sorry I've also been slack on visiting your blogs...I will be back to them in due course. After this Sunday, hopefully I'll be a LITTLE bit saner. (Side note: Okay, okay. Maybe not saner. My life may be a little less hectic. Wow, I am never using the word "sane" to describe myself again. That kind of freaked me out.)

In the meantime, please enjoy this picture of ALBUS, my new nekkid kitteh!

The Solution: Resolution!

2010-01-05T22:54:00.006-05:00

Blog Club! I've missed you guys! HAPPY 2010! For my first official non-interim post of the New Year, I'd like to tell you all my plans to take over the worl---COUGH---I mean, my plans to accomplish my goals this year. So, in no particular order, here are my RESOLUTIONS! (Disclaimer: "New Year's Resolution" is intended for presentational purposes only and cannot be enforced in any way should I choose to be a lazy ass slacker.)

**RESOLUTION 1: I Shalt Never Go More Than Three Days Without Dancing (Side note: So, I guess this is more like a commandment.)

I am a DANCER. However, there have been times this year when I've gotten slack and would go too long without dancing. Now, when you're a BALLROOM dancer, that's especially disastrous since there is something I kind of think of as your "magnetism" with your ballroom partner. It's actually not like a magnet...it's more like a battery (that is a magnet). In order for the two of you to stay in sync, your battery has to be recharged at regular intervals so that your magnet doesn't not attract to each other. Wow. That was a GREAT explanation (Please note sarcasm.) On to the next...

**RESOLUTION 2: I am going to try to be good to my friends and family in the way I'm kind to people I don't know as well. You know how sometimes it's easiest to take things out on those closest to us? It's also really easy to get upset with, frustrated with, and lose our patience with the people we love the most. I want to, in this year, treat the people I love the most with the courtesy I would treat someone I would want to impress, because that is as it should be.

By the end of this year, I want to say I have:

*Stopped being Good Old Reliable Colby, at least for 1/2 of my time.

*Been to 2 ballroom competitions

*Completed and edited a new novel

*SOLD a novel (YIKES! I hope this one makes it!)

*Attended 2 writer's conferences

Ambitious? Yes. Doable? I think so. So, hang on to your hats...this is going to be a fun year! Tell me...what are your resolutions?

New Year's Interim Post ;-)

2010-01-04T01:17:00.002-05:00

Oh, good grief! I have been MIA a week! I should be kicked in the groin! (HEY! Don't DO it...I just said SHOULD BE...that wasn't giving permission!). I have lots of New Year's-like posts coming up this week including a decade in review, stories from my awesome New Year's Eve Trip, the best of 2009, and more, but I'm do blasted tired to do that tonight. But please tune in every day this week for a New Year's Posting, because I'm ringing in the 2010 Spittin' Style! (Side note: and you must say it twenty-ten. Anyone who says two-thousand and ten will be given highly uncomfortable wedgies and/or oddly shaped toenails during a pedicure performed by an unskilled half-paralyzed monkey.)

So, in the meantime, if you visit me prior to my start of the slew of New Year's posts...leave it in the comments-- how did you spend your New Year's Eve?

Leftovers!

2009-12-27T23:11:00.004-05:00

In the tradition of everyone eating lots of leftovers post-holidays, I thought I'd post some bloggie leftovers as well. So please join me in revisiting this post I wrote back in February 2008...one of my favorites: It's Grow, not Grough. Hope you enjoy!

Primary schools have a sadistic streak to them in the shape of a little subject called “penmanship.” Okay, so let me get this straight: we first learn how to “print.” Then, after learning that, we should basically erase our knowledge of those letters and learn a new set of letters entirely. Yeah, that makes sense. You know that letter “m” we just taught you that has two humps? Well, the joke’s on you, because it has three now. Take that! Now back to print: it has two.

And while you’re at it, children, remember that spelling counts. So sound it out. Bow. (Sounds like BOUGH…which does not sound like TOUGH, which does sound like ROUGH but not like THROUGH.) This is not to be confused with bow, which sounds like row. Sew sounds like row, too, but we threw (not through) an “e” in there just to keep it interesting, keep you guessing. No (not nough, which is not a word…not know, which is a word but not this word) wonder so (not sew) many Americans have atrocious spelling. (Side note: for those of you worried about the spelling of “atrocious,” an alternate spelling is B-A-D).

So (not sew), as far as I know (NO!) the Chinese don’t have an extra letter set to make their characters “pretty” like we do. So what is cursive for (not four), anyway? (Side note: Please note the root word of “cursive” is “curse.”) Answer: Cursive is how we break the children of the mind reading. Think about it…this is the age when the mind reading stops. As soon as they learn cursive, the psychic episodes end. Why is this?Probably because they are too damn confused about why the capital cursive “Q” looks like the number two (hey, that rhymed!) that they don’t have the time or brain power to focus their telepathic energies. Way to beat them into submission, English Language! You go, girl! (Side note: Yes, the English Language is a girl. No, I don’t know why. No more questions.)

The Night Before

2009-12-24T13:50:00.003-05:00

Maybe you're like us and have to run from family get-together to family get-together with no down time whatsoever on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Maybe you're spending your Christmas Eve having a quiet day just with your immediate family. Maybe, heaven forbid, you're working on Christmas Eve (Side note: Good for you being online at work! Way to stick it to 'em for making you work!). No matter what, my wish for you today is that your day will be filled with all the people who matter, laughter to drown out all of the seriousness of every day life, and the spirit of love that comes with this time of year. Oh...and don't forget cookies. Those are important ;-)

Merry Christmas Eve, Blog Club. (Side note: Yes, despite this week's earlier post, I DO say Merry Christmas, and the phrase doesn't offend me!...I was simply saying I had no clue why the phrase Happy Holidays offends people so much!).

I leave you with the most awesome commercial of the year ;-)

Happy *&%$#!@ Holidays!

2009-12-21T23:01:00.004-05:00

Hello, Blog Club! Before I get to today's main event, it is with great sadness that I have to tell you I have enabled word verification in the commenting section. I hate that I had to do it, but I was being riddled with spam bullets and had to act accordingly. It is my hope that you'll all still comment as usual and this won't be too much of an inconvenience. Now, on to the post!

It has come to my attention that there is a huge problem facing our world that I was unaware of until recently: Christ has apparently been KIDNAPPED on Christmas Day!

What?? He hasn't been kidnapped? Oh. Well, what did they mean by "taking the Christ out of Christmas?" if they didn't mean he'd been kidnapped?

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!?!?!?

Lately, I've seen facebook groups, heard radio commercials, etc. about this phenomenon of "Happy Holidays" being some Krampus-driven phrase invented by bastards hell-bent on removing all traces of Christianity from the Christmas holiday. Now, call me crazy, but I'm not really sure when "Happy Holidays" became of the devil. In fact, until the blatant hatred of the phrase began, I never knew "Happy Holidays" didn't MEAN "Merry Christmas." I always thought, growing up, that people who said, "Happy Holidays," were simply using it to refer to the group of holidays I celebrate during the season: Thanksgiving, Christmas Day, New Year's. And even if that isn't the case...even if it's simply meant to include ALL holidays celebrated this time of year, is it a BAD thing for me to tell friends Happy Holidays so my Christian friends who celebrate Christmas are included as well as my Jewish friends who celebrate Hanukkah? It never occurred to me that it could be ANTI-Christian to include other people.

But, now that I think of it, how could Happy Holidays NOT be anti-Christian? I mean, how dare people spread joy and yuletide well-wishings? How DARE they love everyone! How DARE they not exclude people. Damn them AND their holiday cheer! BASTARDS! It's just like "X-mas." How DARE you abbreviate Christmas by taking the Christ out of Christmas!

What's that? The "X" in "X-mas" originated from the Greek letter "X" being the letter that represents Christ? You don't say. Well, don't I feel like a moron.

Well, a Happy Holidays and Merry X-Mas to you all! Tell me...what are your plans for Christmas Day?

Serious Saturday: Love Will Keep Us Together

2009-12-19T23:31:00.004-05:00

In the next couple of months, I will celebrate spending a quarter of a century on this earth. I've learned a lot of things in that fourth of a century. I've learned that you should never put something wrapped in aluminum foil in the microwave, I learned that white isn't really the best color to wear to an outdoor picnic, since sometimes it rains. But one of the most important things I've learned is a little deeper than this.

You tend to think about people in your life within the context of their relationship to you. You think of them as your sister, your mother, your friend. In turn, you usually treat them a certain way based on what they are to you. It's because our relationship to them is one dimensional. Sometimes it's hard to look at our parents and not just see them as our parents, but to also see them as whole people who have their own individual tastes, desires, and dreams. They have their own lives outside their relationship with us. They have friends, they have things that hurt them and stress them out. They are passionate about different things.

And why is it important to distinguish the difference between what your loved ones are to you and who they ARE? It's important because it's only when you can love them as PEOPLE rather than just what they are TO YOU.

So get to know your loved ones as full people, not just what they are to you. Learn about their goals, their fears, their wants, and their needs. Then maybe you'll be able to understand them a little better, and you'll certainly be able to love them even more.

Too Good to Only Post it for One Year...

2009-12-16T22:31:00.002-05:00

Part 1: The Letter

Part 2: Dreams Come True