Thank you notes...

Some Friday nights, if I stay awake long enough, I watch Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. On Fridays he writes thank you notes to a variety of people. Thank you, Jimmy for providing some desperately needed writing inspiration....

Here are my 6 thank you notes for the week:

Thank you, lady in the bra section of JC Penny. You were so kind to ask me if I needed help... and then when I said, "Just looking for a new bra" you looked at my chest and said, "You looking for a push up bra? You've had some kids, eh? My daughter has that problem too."

(You are wondering what I said in response to that? Well, I said, "no kids, just genetics and too much chocolate".)

Thank you, eBay for making me love you and hate you within a week. I needed a bed in a bag for cheap. I had a bright idea to look on eBay. I found the perfect one, bid on it and won it. It was like winning the raffle... never mind the fact I was the only bidder. FengShi Wong (or whatever her name is) was prompt to send my bedding... straight from a Chinese sweat shop in North Carolina. I love you, eBay and FengShi for making my eBay dreams come true.... But then I got the bidding bug and found a Chi. I bid on it and won (this time I had some competition). After I paid for it, you so kindly sent me an email saying the item was removed (due to some violations) and I needed to contact the resolution department. Say what!? My Chi flat iron is probably laced with some chemical known to the state of California to cause hair cancer. Thanks for letting me know (after I already used the product) that Bridgette Fidal Castro Lopez from Miami, Fl is selling Chi's illegally from Miami (code name for Cuba). It probably isn't even a Chi. Stupid American that I am. eBay, consider this thank you as a way of breaking up our week long relationship. Craigslist, I am back on the market!

Thank you, right-wing-extremists (a.k.a "racists" by some) who are proponents of Arizona Senate Bill 1070 AND opponents of the bill who have relied on the media to teach them about the bill. Both of you make me embarrassed to be an Arizona resident.

Proponents who are extremists-- You scare me. If you put as much passion into solving the global poverty problem as you do fighting illegal immigration, we probably wouldn't have a problem with illegal immigration in the first place.

Opponents of the bill you need to read the dang thing before you tie yourself to the stair railing at the capital building.

I believe strongly in standing up for what you believe and speaking out against things you don't believe in. But jumping on a bandwagon driven by the media alone is not only socially dangerous but doesn't make you look too smart. Once you have read it THEN protest, picket, and chain yourself to tree.

(Just for kicks, see Youtube video below to watch our Attorney General admit his ignorance and you only need to watch the first 60 seconds of it.)

Oh, and if you must know, I have read SB 1070. I am neither against or for the bill itself-- just a plain ol' American who is a proponent of following the laws of the land and that national security is the main responsibility of the Federal Government. Doesn't it seem kind of silly to make illegal what is already illegal? I hope they figure something out!

Back to my thank you notes (that rant was longer than I intended).

Thank you, people in slow moving vehicles (i.e. buses, trucks, and Cadillacs) for pulling out in front of me while I am going full speed ahead on the surface streets and highways. You make my commute full of rage and anger. You especially make my day when you pull out in front of me going 10 mph, then throw your Marlboro cig out the window and it conveniently hits my car.u c

And while we are thanking drivers...

Thank you, people who like to talk on their cell phone while driving. This alone doesn't merit a note of thanks... but when you are on the phone while driving 20 mph UNDER the speed limit, in the fast lane, just talking away, oblivious to all the other people who have places to go, now that deserves a thank you AND a good old fashioned kick in the shins.

Thank you, lady in my ward for putting me on the distribution list for your emergency preparedness committee by accident. I love getting all your FWD: FWD: FWD: FWD: FWD: emails about how the rising price of meat will spur on Armageddon. You know what I appreciate the most, dear sister? That you deny I am on your distribution list! Like the other day, when you reminded me of a mandatory meeting... and I responded saying, "I think you sent this to me in error. I am not on the emergency preparedness committee". You respond back saying, "That email wasn't from me. I don't know what you are talking about." And the time a few months later when I reminded you AGAIN that I am on your distribution list and you said, "You aren't getting those emails from me. You must be getting them from someone else in the ward." HUH?! I would block your emails but I find learning about essential oils for insects absolutely fascinating.

P.S. I am sure that the above thank you note will come back to haunt me one day when you become my Facebook friend and look at this blog. If that happens, I am just going to deny I wrote about you and tell you this blog doesn't exist.

I am too old for this...

My mother in law gave us a $25 gift card to Hollister-- and we needed to use it before the end of January. So a few days before my 32nd birthday, I decided to go (for the first time ever) to Hollister and buy myself an early birthday present. Yeah, when you want to be reminded of how old and chubby you really are, go into a store specifically for young teenagers.

Before I go into detail about my sojourn into the depths of skinny adolescence, let me just tell you that they didn't have Hollister when I was a teenager. Well, there was one but it was not a clothing store but a small town established in the 1800s. Good ol' Hollister, CA. The high school mascot is a Haybaler- (people who put hay into bales?). Real cool... and the epitome of what the Hollister store isn't...

Back to my story. I walk in and was greeted by a teenage worker folding shirts the size of my pinkie. I walk around and realize that their size large is actually an extra small in old lady size. So I bravely ask, "Do you have anything for females in an extra large?"

She looks at me with a blank stare and thoughtfully says, "Nope... but we sell extra large size in the guy's section."

Great... but I am not into dressing like a teenage boy. That is so 1990's.

I wandered and find some t-shirts... in the girl's clearance section. I frantically search for the largest size. I try it on in the unisex dressing room (awkward) and it took me 1/2 hour to peel it off. I wasn't depressed at all after that incident.

I continued to look and see another stack of clearance shirts-- ones you can tell aren't all that cool because there are 50 of them still left. Oh, and they were right next to the shirts (also clearance) that said, "Santa's Little Helper" written in silver glitter. Not a good sign.

I was so desperate to leave with a Hollister shirt as a last ditch effort to feel young even though I am growing old. Heck, I was willing to pay $10 for one if it fit me.... and it did, kinda.

Now I only have $15 left to spend...

An hour later, inebriated by the mass quantity of teenage cologne bursting through air vents, I concluded there is not a single article of clothing that was going to fit-- even in the teenage boys section.

I was determined to spend the remaining money on something, anything!

I tried the perfume. It reminded me of a 21st century version of the Exclamation scent I wore to 8th grade dances. (Only Exclamation was only $5.99 and this perfume was $50.00).

I tried the lip gloss (and no I didn't put the herpes infested tester on my lips-- I put some on my hand instead). Bleh... If I ever need travel sized colored pomade, I would just by that lip gloss.

The only other thing that I could find was body wash, spray and lotion that smelled like Laguna Beach with a hint of a Strawberry Shortcake doll. So I bought them....

Feeling old, out of place, unfashionable, and fat, I went to the counter to purchase my goods. The clerk said, "Oh I love this lotion! Are you buying this for your daughter?" Okay, that last part really didn't happen but I am sure she was thinking it. I ended up spending 13 extra bucks because I didn't add correctly. My math skills haven't gotten better with age.

Hollister, thanks for reminding me that 32 years old is just 7 years away from being 40!

Just when you think you are losing weight...

Let's talk about how not so fun it is to be asked if you are pregnant when you actually aren't. Whether you are married or single, thin or thick, if you aren't pregnant it hurts to be asked if you are expecting or when you are due.

Once, several years ago and 50lbs heavier a little boy at church poked my stomach and asked with a giggle, "Are you pregnant?" My reply? "Nope, just fat but that was nice of you to ask." He said, "Your welcome" and walked away. I walked away too... all the way home at ate 20 donuts, gained 20lbs and then really looked pregnant.

The other time was yesterday. Here I am losing weight (or so I thought) and someone says, "I don't know you very well and I hope I am not crossing the line... but woman to woman, are you pregnant?"

You have no idea how much I wanted to say, "So glad you asked, why yes I am! I am carrying twins squirrels in my double chins. I am going to name them Dumb and Dumber after you."

But I didn't.

And I wish I did.

I just said, "No... why do you ask?" She said with a nervous laugh, "Well, for a few mornings you looked like you were sick, you have been munching on snacks a lot and you have been forgetful lately." I was pretty impressed that she thought of that stuff on the spot. At least she didn't say, "Because I notice you are peeing a lot and your uterus is huge".

I didn't defend myself... just laughed and said, "Yeah" and went back to munching on my apple.

Those few mornings when I look like I was sick? One morning I forgot to put on eyeliner because I was running late. The other morning my hair was frizzy/curly and I was late to work because of traffic... Being late makes me sick... and so does frizzy hair.

I have been munching a lot lately because I never have time to eat breakfast and lunch so I have to eat whenever I can. You eat an apple and yogurt during the day and then everyone thinks you are pregnant.

And, I have been forgetful because... well, truth is I am conveniently and intentionally forgetting all those things I don't want to do... Like talk to nosey people!

Blah. Next time I hear a question prefaced with "woman to woman..." I am just going to interrupt and say, "Yes. Twin squirrels!" and then turn and walk away.

Halloween

Yesterday, I went to the mall with my husband. While he was in the dressing room, I patiently sat in a chair. I must have looked bored because a little boy who was shopping with his dad took pity on me an smiled. Remnants of the chocolate dipped cone from Dairy Queen he consumed minutes earlier framed his grin. The smile shortly went to a stare and finally I said, "hi".

That was enough to incite the precocious 6 year old to talk to me about life, starting kindergarten, and that he wears ties to church.

After a lull in the conversation he looked at me again and said, "It's almost Halloween!". I then asked, "What are you going to be?" He excitedly responded, "Ronald McDonald!"

For a brief moment, I actually liked Halloween. The fact that a 6 year old was delighted about dressing up as a freakishly absurd clown was amusing to me.

I love fall, the colors, caramel apples but Halloween is my least favorite holiday. Before you call me un-American, here are my top ten reasons why:

1. It bugs me when people mispronounce the word, "Halloween". It's not HOLLOWeen, people, it's HALLOWeen!

2. Having my parents inspect my candy for razor blades, arsenic, and glass invoked paranoia and a severe distrust for my neighbors. Wondering if the individually wrapped snickers was injected with cocaine took the fun away!

3. Dressing up like a jack-o-lantern. Parents-- never let your children do this! It gave me a complex. I wore a bright orange oversized sheet, stuffed with newspapers green tights. Going to the bathroom was IMPOSSIBLE! In defense of my parents, I did this of my own volition-- I needed a costume at the last minute and borrowed it from a friend.

4. I almost peed my pants at a Haunted Forest once... or thrice. I wish I could say it happened when I was 5... but I was more like 25. I was on a date-- and he never asked me out again. Come on, incontinence is HOT!

5. The year the beloved faux-wood paneled station wagon got egged by wanna be gangsters... and I had to clean it up.

6. Getting blamed for egging someone's house. I promise I didn't do it... I had better things to do on Halloween, like poke my eyes out with lollipops laced with switchblades.

7. I overdosed on candy corns a few years ago. I now break out in hives at the very sight of them.

8. Why is it that Halloween is every Mormon girl's chance to dress like a hoochie? "What? I dress up like a pole dancer? But it's Halloween!"

9. When I was a kid, we had Halloween one time-- and that was on Halloween, October 31st. Now days, kids have 2 weeks of Halloween and it takes away for the true reason for the season-- to celebrate dead patron saints.

10. Since I never liked to say, "Trick or treat" at the door (I was shy), the neighbors only gave me the nasty candy or if I was lucky, pennies. When I say nasty candy, I mean circus peanuts, wax lips, and those strawberry candies wrapped in strawberry paper. Really, who likes those?

In creating my list of reasons why hate Halloween, I thought of something that I actually like about the holiday--the movie, Watcher in the Woods! NERAK. The best Disney movie ever!

Happy Halloween? And don't forget to inspect your Boston baked beans!

When the camera doesn't love you as much as you love the camera...

Those who know me know how much I enjoy getting my picture taken. My love for the camera developed soon after I received my first digital. The ability to delete any unflattering picture before it goes to print and the art of positioning the camera to make me look 25 lbs thinner makes me happy.

Well, there are times when I don't have the camera... and when that happens it ain't pretty!

A few weeks ago, the Arizona Republic did a story on the firm where I work. I knew they were coming so I wore my favorite suit, spend hours on my hair, and even wore lipstick. My goal? To have the best picture taken so I can show posterity I really did work for corporate America before I sold Avon.

I really thought there was a chance to have this moment of glory-- after all, the photographer took dozens of pictures of me in action. I was wrong:

I saw the picture when I got to work. My eyes only focused on my double chins! I heard about a million robo-cop jokes for the week after. One of my co-workers drew puppet strings from my hands, as if I was a marionette puppet. I can laugh at myself. Really.

You never realize how many people actually read the paper until there is an embarrassing picture of you published. I got phone calls all day long wondering if I had seen the picture. Comments included, "You look... cute?" or "It's a nice picture?".

My favorite email came from my friend Joel. He said, "Nice Edward Jones article in the Business section of the AZ Republic today. You got your very own photo! I imagine you are supposed to be teaching finance, but it looks like your teaching Kung-Fu! ;)"

I can laugh at my moment of glory, forever kept in my scrapbook. Actually, while putting this article in my scrapbook, I found a few photos taken... before the invention of the digital camera.

This above beauty was taken about 10 years ago on a Relief Society camp out. In case you can't identify me, I am the one wearing over sized gray sweats, an over sized striped shirt and an over sized plaid flannel jacket (that I probably bought at Savers for 99 cents). No wonder I never had a boyfriend!

And the last one I found was also taken in a moment of athletic fame-- my home run in the high school softball game:

Pay no attention the fact my shorts are riding up and that I look like I am running from a Mexican gang.

"Laugh at yourself first, before anyone else can." ~ Elsa Maxwell

Segregation at Lowe's-- Let's Picket

Scott and I were at Lowe's in Tuscon a few weeks ago. Walking down the aisle, I noticed cute, little rocking chairs. Wondering how much they cost, Scott I walked closer to them to check it out the price. That's when we noticed the price tag. It was pretty pricy... 49 bucks for a tiny chair. The economy is really making things expensive! My thoughts were quickly distracted by the title on the price tag: "White Children's Rocker". I thought we got rid of segregation a long time ago!! What they should have written is "Children's Rocker- white". Scott dared me to threaten to sue them for not having a black children's rocker-- you know, just for kicks.

I decided I would just blog about it instead... and maybe file a complaint with Lowe's so they send me a ten percent coupon. That way I could buy us a white children's rocker for only $41.10! And then paint half of it black. Then resell it on Ebay as the "black and white children's rocker" for 55 bucks. I'd make a profit and allow ebony and ivory to live together in perfect harmony...

The Wedding

I have been married for almost 3 months now. Time flies! Seems like only yesterday I was wearing the girdle and tossing the boquet! I thought I would put up some some pictures for all you who haven't seem them already on the facebook.

I discovered fake eyelashes. Aside from feeling like Tami Fay Baker, they weren't really all that bad. It took my about 8 hours to get used to and by the end of the night I decided t0 never wear them again unless I am in the Mrs. America pagent.