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Vegas, Baby, Vegas!
Yes, Internet, I’m headed to Vegas! Why, you ask? To gamble? To participate in exciting acts of debauchery? To get completely hammered and wake up not knowing where I am? No!
I’m going to Photoshop World!
Let me assure you, I am not joking. I’m super excited about this! I’ve just recently started working on designing a website for my company, and I’m in over my head. I’m trudging through the madness that is Dreamweaver CS3 and Photoshop CS2 and I have no clue as to what I’m doing. I’ve tried some online tutorials, and they’re helping a little. But a lot of them are written in a dialect of geek that I just don’t speak. I’m told that this conference/expo will be a fantastic learning experience. There are SO many workshops I want to go to, and a lot of them are schedule against each other. I’ll have to figure out some way of cloning myself before I get there, so I can see everything!
As a bonus, my sister is coming out Friday night, and will hang out with me until Sunday when we drive back. My friends Tony and Kerry will be out there as well, so I’ll hook up with them at some point too. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Vegas, and I’m looking forward to going back. I’ve never stayed at Excalibur before, so this will be a treat. Think they’ll let me have a room in a turret, so I can pretend to be a princess?
 This is Mia.
She is the little love of my life. She’s cute and cuddly and the loudest snorer you’ve ever heard. We got her almost 4 years ago from a woman who’s pug accidently got knocked up. We’d been looking for a pug at every shelter in Southern California, but we only found one little guy who was 8 years old and sick. I felt so sorry for him. I wanted to take him home with us, but I didn’t know if I could A) care for a sick dog, and B) handle losing him if he got worse. So we kept looking, and finally found an ad for pug puppies in the paper. We had already decided we wanted a little girl pug, and her litter had 3 girls and 3 boys, so we went to check them out. They were all gorgeous and I wanted to scoop them all up and run off! One of the girls was a runt, and they weren’t selling her. The soft spot on her head hadn’t fully closed, and they were afraid she was going to be brain damaged or not live very long. But she was adorable. The other girl was a mean little thing. She was wrestling with all the boys, and kept coming to play with me. I loved her immediately and kept trying to get Jason to agree she was the one we should take home. Meanwhile, he’d been playing with the boys as well, and keeping an eye on Mia. She just kind of sat back and watched everyone. She wasn’t shy at all. She just was taking in the scene.
 Since the day we brought her home, she’s been a doll. She never cried at night, she didn’t destroy everything in the house, and she has always loved to cuddle. Jas and I spend a lot of time sitting on the couch with the laptop. She likes to come insert herself under your armpit and snuggle down for a nap. Or if she’s feeling neglected, she will climb right on to your lap, plop her fat butt down on the laptop keyboard, and stare at you like “Ok Human, I’m here now. It’s time to pay attention to me!” Ever since she was little, she’s had Jason wrapped around her paw. We kept her in a puppy crate at night when we were housebreaking her, and when she passed the test, the plan was to buy a bed for her so she could sleep in the room with us. So we buy a huge fluffy bed, put it on the floor near us, and get into bed. She was not happy with this arrangement. She whined and cried and looked up at us with those cute brown bug eyes. The word SUCKER imprinted on Jason’s forehead began to flash, and suddenly she was sleeping in bed with us. Mia doesn’t exactly sleep “with” us. She prefers to sleep “on” us. And by us, I mean me. Her favorite spot is right between my knees, so no matter which way I move, I have to kick her out of the way so I can get comfortable. And if I get restless in my sleep, she’ll come lay up against my back, and slowly keep pushing backward toward me, so that I’m hanging off the side of the bed. She takes up a lot of room for such a small dog!
I got my hair cut last night, and I love it! It’s still the same style as before, but now all my split ends are gone, and my hair looks healthy again. I decided not to dye it, and just let my natural color grow back out. You can tell where I dyed it before, since it’s lighter than my natural shade, but it doesn’t look terrible. At least not to me. No one else has said anything, so they’re either laughing behind my back, or it doesn’t really look that bad. I’m going to make Jason take a picture of it, so you all can see and tell me if I should have it dyed again. Stay tuned!
I am fat. I know I am. No amount of "Oh you’re just big boned" will change that. But according to the BMI Calculator, I am obese. I happen to think the BMI is a load of crap. No one looking at me would ever think I was obese. Overweight, surely. I can settle for that. But the BMI takes no account of Male vs Female, body type, muscle mass, or any other important factors that determine a person’s total weight. Until they start using other factors do make that determination, I’m going to keep calling it bullshit.
So, I’m overweight. I have been as long as I can remember. I’ve never been one of the "skinny girls" even when I was toned and at my healthiest in high school. But then I went to college and gained the freshman 15. And the Sophomore 20, and the Junior 30. At my heaviest, I was 220 pounds, and only 5’8" tall. I’ve lost 20-25 pounds since January (I fluctuate back and forth) but I can’t seem to lose any more. I’m eating semi-healthy. I’m working out a few times a week. But I just can’t get past that point. I could probably eat a little better, but I’m a very picky eater, and I LOVE food that’s bad for me. Carbs and fat are my two favorite food groups. Salads are ok, but I only like ranch dressing, which is like the Holy Grail of fatty dressings. Pasta and bread are dietary staples to me. People keep telling me to cut out the carbs, but that would be the same as a starvation diet, and I’m pretty sure that’s not healthy. My sister swears by Weight Watchers and has been trying to get me to start with them. I just hesitate to spend money on something I could do by myself for free, ya know?
In a perfect world we’d all be secure with our self images, and not need to change ourselves to fit into society’s definition of acceptable. If only this were a perfect world…
I hate flying. I’m afraid of it. Being that high off the ground, and having zero control over my mode of transportation terrifies the hell out of me. I have, however, become much better at controlling my panic. It usually just creeps out during turbulence. I’ve had the super fun experience of intimately gripping the thigh of the man next to me in terror. Turns out he wasn’t my husband. Oops. Lucky for me he wasn’t the biggest fan of flying either, so he understood my irrational fear, and didn’t make me feel guilty. Or he was mentally screaming "GET THIS FREAK WOMAN AWAY FROM ME!" It was hard to tell.
So even with my immense fear of flying, I find that I am reasonably relaxed when it comes to delays at the airport. And it completely floors me that some people get SO uptight about it. Does your constant sighing or angry glares at the poor ticket counter associates make you feel better? Do you really think getting all agitated and shifty will make the rain stop, so the plane can take off? I don’t get it.
I watched a very angry man scream and yell at the guy behind the baggage claim counter for at least 20 minutes. Now, here’s the thing. The guy behind the counter was not responsible for loading the bag in the origination city, he was not responsible for moving the bag in the layover city, and he was not responsible for putting the bag on the appropriate carousel in the destination city. How is it ok to scream at him? In fact, wouldn’t it be better to speak to him nicely, and make him want to help out? Would that I ever had his job, your claim would be filed in the large trash bin marked "ASSHATS" in lovely block letters.
I am a huge Angels baseball fan. I’ve loved them since I was a kid, and that continues on today. When Jas and I lived in Anaheim, we went to the games at least once a week, if not more. Now we live a little further away, but we (or I) go at least a couple times a month. Watching in person is much more fun than watching on tv. Most of my fun, aside from watching the Angels win, comes from my intense love of people watching (and mocking). Over the years, I’ve seen a lot of scary trends at the ballpark, and recently I began compiling a list of dress code rules that I would have at Angel Stadium, should I ever own the team. After you read the rules, you’ll notice that I won’t have a whole lot of people left who actually pass the test. But come on people, it’s quality, not quantity, right?
Disclaimer: This list is intended to be humorous in nature and is not an attack against any specific person or persons. Unless you’re a Yankees fan. Then it is.
1. You may not wear articles of clothing that have logos or names of other Major League Baseball teams, if that team is not playing on the day you enter the park. So if the Angels are playing the Red Sox, you may have Red Sox paraphenilia. However, if they’re playing the Twins, that Red Sox stuff needs to stay home.
a. You may not wear Yankees attire. Ever.
2. You may wear articles of clothing that have other sports teams on them, provided they are not Major League Baseball teams. This includes, but is not limited to, minor league baseball, basketball, football, hockey, soccer, or educational institution teams.
a. Should you choose to wear articles of clothing from other sports teams, you are subject to being laughed at for not knowing what sport you are watching.
3. You may not wear articles of clothing that have the names of Angels players who no longer play for the Angels, if they are still active in Major League Baseball. Yes, Joe Schmoe played for us last year. Yes, you have a shirt with his name on it. But he plays for someone else now. Get a new shirt. Support CURRENT players, not guys who deserted us.
a. You may, however, wear articles of clothing with the names of past Angels players who are now retired, even if they did not retire as part of the Angels organization.
b. You may also continue to wear clothing of a player who has been sent down to the minors, as long as he is still on an Angels farm club team.
4. You may not wear heels to a baseball game. Bring a change of clothes if you need one. But heels are for fancy venues, or walking the streets. They are not for a baseball game.
5. If your shirt does not cover your fat roll, you will be required to purchase a new shirt, or leave the park. Plain and simple.
I think that should cover it. I tried to ban Yankee fans from the park altogether, but I figure I’ll just raise the beer prices on the days New York is in town. That should be punishment enough.
Saturday night was the final night of Tim McGraw & Faith Hill‘s Soul 2 Soul tour. Say what you want about the type of music, but they are incredible together. Separately, they’re amazing artists. She’s so much fun to watch, and her voice is just gorgeous. He’s a great performer, and his songs are wonderful. But my absolute favorite part of the show is watching them together. You can almost see the electricity on the stage. I get goosebumps when they sing together, they’re that good. He looks at her with this huge grin like he can’t believe that not only is this gorgeous creature singing with him, but she’s also his wife. They’ve been married for almost 11 years, and he still looks at her like they’ve been married 11 days. I’m a little jealous. They played for nearly 4 hours straight. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a concert that’s lasted so long (aside from festivals where multiple bands play. This was just two people!)
Two thumbs up. If you ever have the chance to see them, take it!
I finally graduated college this year. It only took me 10 years of working full time and going to school part time, but at least I’m done. I have a fancy piece of paper that’s going to collect dust on my wall. Woo!
So now what do I do?
I was so burned out on school by my last year, that I almost just gave it up all together. I swore over and over and OVER that once I was done with school, I wasn’t going back. I was even a little bitter at my boss when he asked me (before I’d even graduated) to take an online Web Design class during the summer. (Over it now, Kev. No worries!) But now I’m bored. I thought I’d have a ton of extra time to do all sorts of fun things. That extra time has been quite elusive. I work later into the night, and come home and do a few chores around the house, and then suddenly it’s time to try and get to bed. I’m not entirely sure where the hours go.
I’ve decided to go back to school. Crazy, huh? Except this time I’m going to take classes that I’ll actually look forward to. I want to take an Adobe Photoshop class. I’ve read a lot of online tutorials, and I could probably do just fine without taking a class. I have figured out a lot of it myself, but only when it comes to designing mastheads and web page layouts. But I want to learn how to make my crappy photos look awesome. I’m always in awe of the photos that Dooce puts up on her pages. I’m hoping someday mine will look just as wonderful. Or at least the people will look like people, instead of pasty white corpses.
I’m also wanting to take sign language classes. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been fascinated by sign language. It’s actually the only class I got an A in when I went to college the first time. I have sign language dictionaries, sign language software, and already know a ton of words (and not just the bad ones!). Someday I think I want to be a sign language interpreter. I guess that’ll depend on how quickly I learn. I’m trying to find someone to take it with me, so I have someone to practice with. Not a whole lot of people I know are even remotely interested in learning, so I’m probably going to be on my own. But hey, maybe I’ll make some new friends!
Me (on phone with customer): That component comes in Red, Royal Blue, or Hunter Green
Customer: Ok, I’ll take Yellow.
Me: (pregnant pause)
Customer: Hello?
Me: Um, we don’t have it in yellow. We have Red, Royal Blue, and Hunter Green only.
Customer: Do you have it in White?
Me: <slamming head on desk> NO. We have it in Red, Royal Blue and Hunter Green.
Customer: I’ll have to check with the board and call you back.
Me: ok. Thank you, bye.
*cut to a few hours later*
Customer: Ok, I’ve spoken with the board.
Me: Fantastic. Which color did they choose?
Customer: Can we get it in Tan?
I hung up.
My sister amuses me greatly. She’s got the best "I couldn’t possibly care less what you think of me" attitude I’ve ever seen. We went down to the beach yesterday (because pasty white is apparently NOT the look of the summer). So we’re driving around and around looking for a parking spot. Finally she spots one, but there’s a teenage girl standing there, attempting to save it for someone. Jen isn’t having it. She continues to drive right at Spot Holder Girl, as if she’s not there. SHG keeps trying to say she’s saving it, and Jen just keeps shaking her head and driving. Then SHG makes a stupid decision. She’s going to abandon her space and walk over to Jen’s window in an attempt to explain the situation. Right. Because Jen’s persistent driving into the space while shaking her head meant that she’s totally open to listening to the forthcoming explanation. As SHG walks around to Jen’s window, Jen drives right past her into the space. SHG’s mother pulls up right behind us and looks furious. Fortunately for them, I suppose, the spot right next to us opened up and they got their space. Didn’t stop them from slamming their doors and aiming death looks in our direction. Evil Spot Stealer’s that we are!
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