My First Adventures into Working Out Since High School...

I woke up at 5:00AM this morning to drive my butt across MoPac (the highway) to start boot camp. It was… strenuous. Here’s how it went down.

Two Weeks Ago…

Me: I think I’m going to sign up for boot camp.

Co-Worker: Why would you ever want to do that?

Me: I need motivation and I think I could be motivated by paying X amount of dollars and having someone push me.

Co-Worker: For half that price I’ll yell at you all day.

Me: Whatever I’m going to do it.

So, I signed up.


One Week Ago…

Boyfriend: (Spying my shopping bags) What did you get me at Acadamy?

Me: I didn’t get you anything and you should be damn lucky you still have a girl friend after I braved Acadamy the weekend before back to school. Since when is it okay for seven year olds to stand in the middle of the walkway swinging back packs around their arms like hula-hoops? I thought I was going to have to cap some little punks.

Boyfriend: I think it’s been okay since 1992… maybe 93. Why didn’t you get me anything?

Me: I’m ignoring your questions, but look at what I got!

So, I showed him my new shoes (on sale) two new pairs of shorts, and socks. I once read an article that said if you buy something new to wear to work out, or you think you look cute you are more likely to keep it up. I fully believe this and I’m thinking of putting into other contexts… like if you look cute in new clothes your dishes get cleaner when you wash them. Or, if you go out and buy those new Nine West boots walking from your car to your desk will be an enlightening experience.


Last Night…

Me: I’m leaving to go grocery shopping and then go home and get to bed early for my big morning. I’m like a real adult right now.

Co-Worker: Good Luck. Don’t die.

So, then I went grocery shopping for healthy food like a real adult.


Later Last Night…(around 11:00PM)

Me: (Shaking Boyfriend awake from where he had fallen asleep on the futon) Boyfriend, let’s go to bed.

Boyfriend: Mumble, mumble, mumble…

So, I set my alarm, put on some Arrested Development, and lay my head down for a good night sleep.

Sleep?

Sleep?

Sleep?

Yeah, it never came. I watched the whole DVD of Arrested (Season 2 disk 2) and still nothing. I was hot, Boyfriend was all over the bed, my pillows weren’t laying right… seriously uncomfortably. I am also one of those people who freak out and think that on the day of the early morning boot camp/air flight/long car ride is the one morning that their completely reliable alarm will not go off. (This happened to me once in Berlin. I was staying in a hostel with those black out window things and somehow in my drunken state the night before had set my alarm to 27 o’clock. Yeah, guess who didn’t make her flight the next morning… she’s the gal typing with the burning abs and quads.) Last night I was not inebriated nor did I down stein after stein of yummy German beer, yet I was super paranoid that I had set the alarm for some wrong time or PM instead of AM, and I couldn’t sleep.


Later, Later Last Night… (3 AM)

Boyfriend: Will you stop moving around so much!

Me: (By this time I am laying with my head at the bottom of the bed and Boyfriend is pushing my feet out of his face.) I can’t help it! I’m burning up and I can’t get comfortable and I’m never going to be able to go to sleep!!!

Boyfriend: You have “first day of school” nerves!

Me: No… I’m just really hot and you’re like a furnace next to me.(Okay and maybe I had a few nerves...)

Boyfriend: Stay here I’ll go sleep on the futon.

Me: No, you can actually sleep in here. I’ll go to the livingroom.


Later, Later, Later That Night… (3:45AM)

Me: ZZZZZZZZZ


Early This Morning… (5:00AM)

Alarm: RING RING!!! WAKE UP!!! RING RING!!! GET UP YOU FATTY I KNOW YOU’VE ONLY BEEN SLEEPING FOR AN HOUR BUT YOU HAVE TO GO WORK OFF THOSE WINGS FROM LAST WEEK AND ABOUT 1500 OTHER FATTENING MEALS YOU’VE HAD LATELY!!! RING RING!!!

So, I get out of bed. I put on my new shoes my new shorts, my German T-Shirt, and my awesome gift from God that is the sports bra I finally found.


Still Early in the Morning… (5:30)

Perky Trainer in the Pink Hat: Welcome! Today is Ab and Legs day. But first lets run a half a mile and listen to some Fergie!!!

My Legs: No. Please. No Running….

My Mind: I can do this. Piece of cake. Have you seen the awesome new shoes I’m wearing? I’m going to tear this track up!!!

My Legs: Oh Hell no…

Yeah… my legs won. If you can call being on fire after the first lap and not being able to breathe winning because they knew, unlike my dumbass mind, that this whole running thing would be a problem.

Perky Trainer in the Pink Hat: Now we are going to do lunges, and then hard lunges, and then death lunges, and then “lunges the Devil himself invented and came up from Hell to teach me to make you people cry.” Awesome! Only 573 more to go!!!

My Legs: Amputate us now!!!

Perky Trainer in the Pink Hat: Now let’s do squats, and slightly harder squats, and jumping squats, and side to side squats and make your legs burn harder squats, and “squats Hitler made the Jews do like all the time”!!! Awesome only 573 more to go!!!

My Thighs: Fire! Fire! Fire! Is there no God! Someone put out the fire!!!

Perky Trainer in the Pink Hat: Ab time! Let’s do some crunches, and legs lifts, and bicycles, and then repeat that 18 times. Go!

So I did these things and I wanted to cry and go home and sleep, but I got through them.

Perky Trainer in the Pink Hat: Time to go to the Tennis Courts (we were at a local middle school) and do jump squats up and down the court! Oh and let’s do them like 25 times! Go!

Me: I HATE YOU AND YOUR STUPID PINK HAT!!!!!!!

But, I did them and I survived and I will go back tomorrow and do them again.

Oh and then leaving I hit a rock and scratched my rear bumper.

Boot Camp 1.
Lemon Lady 0.

The Emmy's: The Good, The Bad, and The "What The F Were They Thinking"...

I know you guys love reading about me making a fool of myself or if I can’t summon a “Lemon Lady mucho embarrassing” blog post, you will settle for a “here is one of my friends being awkward in a social setting” post. But, not today my friends. Not today. Today I want to talk fashion. And not “I’m on like the 18th season of Project Runway, and I have hipster bangs, and I’ll be really bitchy but make really fabulous clothes” kinda talk, but real fashion talk. With real designers and dresses made out of silk not paper streamers found in a craft store.

Let’s talk about the Emmys!!!

Jayma Mays (Burberry Prorsum): She looks 100% adorable. Like I kinda want to squeeze her until she pops and them steel her jewelry. By the way, in case you are a huge Glee fan, but don’t have the endless internet hours as I seem to have, check out wwepw.blogspot.com (What Would Emma Pillsbury Wear) for your fix of beaded cardigans and anything else Jayma Mays may wear as Emma Pillsbury on Glee.

Kate Gosslin (Carmen Marc Valvo): Why the F is Kate Gossling at the Emmy’s and why is she doing the Kelly Kapowski comb over? I mean she had that horrible hair because she was a mom of eight kids under the age of five and she had no soul, but isn’t she rich with nannies and such now? Get a stylist!!! Or at least when you go into the salon and your hair dresser says, “I want to do something a little crazy but super cool…” politely say, “No thanks. Can you please just take off the dead ends and give me a few layers.” The worst you could end up with is a bad Rachel circa 1997.

Lea Michele (Oscar de la Renta): “You call him Oscar?” “That is his name.” (Please keep reading past my jokes with myself in my head.) Lea, if lose any more weight, your head will fall over and you’ll have to have Brittany hold it up, and honestly she has the best lines in the show and you don’t want her stealing your thunder. Or, maybe you could be in one of those wheelchairs with the head holding thing and Artie could be your love interest this season. Then again I like Artie and “insert Asian Girl’s name”, so Lea eat a Hamburger.

Tina Fey (Oscar de la Renta): Yes, her dress looks like it’s covered in WingDings font. Yes, it is a risk. Yes, I like it.

Sofia Vergara (Carolina Herrera): Okay she is gorgeous, and although I’ve only seen one episode of Modern Family (yeah I know I need to get on that) I thought she was hilarious. But this dress looks straight from the sale prom rack at Macy’s. And, not the good sale prom rack where I got my senior prom dress for 35$ as seen here… but the crappy, we only have weird colors and mis-squined sale prom dress rack. Lo siento Sofia. (Oh and I see you trying to hide Rita Wilson. I'm getting to you soon.)

Kevin McHale (designer unknown): Best. Dressed. Man. Of. The. Night. Hands down, he looks amazing. Artie has become Artie the “Hottie I want to make out with in the library in between the book stacks in a kinda popular section so we might get caught.” The glasses, the one button suit, the swagger… everything is perfect.

Christina Hendricks (Zac Posen): For those of you who don’t follow red carpet looks like they’re all the Super Bowl, Christina has had some very bad days. She talks about loving her curves, but not being able to find a designer who can handle her… um… GIANT BOOBS. She almost got it right this time, almost. If I were her I would have told my limo driver to stop at a Walgreens on the way there and picked up a pair of scissors and cut off those sleeve dangly things. Give her some thick straps to hold those St. Bernard puppies up, but they don’t need tentacles.

Emily Blunt (Christian Dior): Um, can’t Emily afford a new dress that doesn’t have barnacles attached to it like it was dragged across the Atlantic caught onto the bottom on the May Flower?

Heidi Klum (Marchesa): I said earlier I wasn’t recapping Project Runway and these wouldn’t be dresses made from ribbon in a craft store. Evidently Heidi didn’t get the memo, or Seal lost it.

Rita Wilson (Prada): Rita, Rita, Rita… One: Some things are better left to the 15 year old runway models. Two: You don’t wear your Prada Chandelier dress with your Prada Chandelier Mules. Three: You don’t wear your Prada Chandelier dress with your Prada Chandelier Mules. And Four: Where are your husband’s eyes?

January Jones (Atelier Versace): This is the dress everyone is talking about. What was she thinking? Who does she think she is wearing something like this? And again, what was she thinking? It is plastic? How many mermaids were killed to make the scales? If you stare at her pointy boobs long enough do they tell you secrets? Should it be longer in the front or do you chop off the Princess Diana train? Did she get in a fight with rabid raccoons on the way to the Emmy’s because why would her hair intentionally look like that? There are good risks and bad risks, this was a bad one.

Then there are the “What the F were they thinking” dresses…

Dianna Agron:

Mindy Kaling:

Naya Rivera:

Project Runway Episode 5: I Kinda Want to Punch My TV...

Here's how last night went down. My friend Cupcake came over to watch Project Runway with me. She brought yummy snacks, bruchetta and cookies, and I had the wine. We chatted for a while about this and that and then pressed play on the DVR for what I was hoping would be a fun little episode of one of our favorite TV shows. Wow, were we wrong. So usually my process is pretty time consuming. I sit down with a pad of paper, a pen, a glass of something alcoholic, and I start. There is a lot of pausing and restarting and rewinding. Although the episode is one a a half hours, it usually takes me about two and a half to finish watching the episode. I didn't want to subject Cupcake to this annoying way of watching the telly, so I was actually a little excited to sit and watch one of my favorite shows like a normal person. Then the show started and I wanted to gouge my eyes out with popsicle sticks.

After cupcake left, I took a break, laid down with Boyfriend, and played some Toobz (my favorite App game) and tried to relax, but in the back of my mind I knew I needed to re-watch PR and take notes. So I got out of bed, turned the lights back on, and sat down with my notebook. I got 14 minutes into the episode before I just couldn't go any further. I quit. Pretty much this recap is going to be a little different. My Bad. I just couldn't...

This weeks challenge is to split up into two teams of six and create a cohesive 6 piece line bases on trends for fall 2010. Since Straight Michael won last weeks challenge he gets to pick his first team member and picks Gretchen, and then Gretchen never shuts the F up for the next hour and a half and I want to turn in my vagina and just give up on my gender. April sums it up nice, "Michael Costello (Straight Michael) is such a dumb ass for choosing Gretchen. Do you want to hire Hitler?" Here are the teams...

Team "Menswear for Women in Camel"
Straight Michael
Gretchen
Christopher
Andy
Ivy
AJ

Team "Military Lace"
April
Mondo
Gay Michael
Valerie
Casanova
Peach

Then they go to Mood and we learn that Mood has a doggie that roams the store named Swatch. And that's cute.

Back in the work room we get 40 minutes of Gretchen, Ivy, Andy, AJ, and Christopher (who I still never remember) bitching about how horrible Straight Michael it. He can't sew, can't cute fabric, can't design... He might as well just jump off a cliff and save himself the bullet he sucks so much at life and making ugly camel clothes. Gretchen is the total ring leader. She is bitchy, snarky, I hate her condescending bangs, and just down right mean.

The only other thing going on that gets any air time at all is Casanova's melt down. Tim comes in a says he is worried that Casanova's look is again looking old and Casanova throws himself down on the couch and says he is going to quit. Oh and he does this in an outfit that is totally Kermit the Frog meets Buddy the Elf meets... Gay. It's fabulous. Eventually his teams convinces him to get his flamboyant and kinda whinny bum back to work.

Runway time. In a huge underdog victory, Team "Military Lace" wins. Although the judges seem to like it and they award Casanova the win for his white pants and lace top, the collection is pretty tacky. Like KMart tacky.

While the winning team is on the runway getting their praise. Team Loser, team "Menswear for Women in Camel", team "We kiss up to Gretchen for some ungodly reason" is chilling in the back room devising a runway plan. Their plan, suggested by Evil, Evil Gretchen is, "We Stand United" in other words, no one is going to throw anyone under the bus and they are going to stand by what they made.

So, of course, five minutes after they land on the runway the back stabbing begins and who starts it, Witchy Witch Gretchen. She throws Straight Michael under the bus and then so does everyone else. Heidi and Michael are confused because, as they say numerous times, Straight Michael has immunity and can't be Awf-ed, so why do they keep bringing him up. Finally Judge Michael totally calls Gretchen on her bullshit. First she thought there was nothing wrong with their beautiful collection and then she's throwing teammates under the bus and calling their work crap. For this she is in the bottom two with AJ, but they end up sending AJ home.

I think its important to say that yes, I understand this is Reality TV. I get that there are producers and editors cutting and splicing hours of film to make this hour and a half episode. I still think Gretchen is a horrible human being and I am proven right by Tim Gun. When AJ is kicked off he comes back into the waiting room to say goodbye to everyone. Then Tim steps up and says, “I don’t know why you allowed Gretchen to manipulate, control, and bully you. I don’t understand it. A.J., you’ve taken the bullet, and now I have to send you to the workroom to clean up your space.” Gretchen is a horrible human being and I hope to God next week's episode is back to funny hats, but I think it's going to be a "real woman" challenge and I'm okay with that too.

(If you want to see the really ugly collections go to Lifetime.com. They are too gross to clutter up my awesome blog.)

Last Night's Conversation and Our Secret Cocktail Recipe...

Yeah… hospital week is done. I actually have another story, but I think I’m going to save it for later. As funny as it is, no stomach pumping story is going to beat “The worst, most awkward, most embarrassing story of my life”. In all reality I’m still sort of emotionally exhausted from that post. When Boyfriend got home yesterday our conversation went something like this…

Me: “I need to tell you something.”

Boyfriend: “What?”

Me: “It’s what I blogged about today and it’s kinda embarrassing…”

Boyfriend: “More embarrassing than the time you wanted Joe Boxer smiley face shorts and see through white track pants?”

Me: “Totally.”

Boyfriend: “More embarrassing that the time you quoted Ian Malcolm from Jurassic Park in your Project Runway Recap?”

Me: “It was Ian Malcolm from The Lost World, and yes.”

Boyfriend: “More embarrassing…”

Me: “YES! I get it. I’m an embarrassing, awkward nerd.”

Boyfriend: “This one time in the middle of the night I went to the bathroom and after I washed my hands I accidentally dried them with toilet paper because it was the first thing my hands went to because I was half asleep.”

Me: “That story couldn’t even pick the lint between my story’s toes.”

Boyfriend: “What?”

Me: “Whatever. Listen to this…”

And then I told him the story.

Boyfriend: “So you wrote on your blog about your Pap Smear? Like details? Isn’t that a little… um… gross?”

Me: “I don’t think I made myself clear.”

Boyfriend: “You said ‘fingers inside me’?”

Me: “Well, yeah… But only for comedic affect.”

Boyfriend: “But, were they inside you?”

Me: “Yes, but…”

Boyfriend: “That’s gross.”

Me: “You don’t seem to be concentrating on the most important part of the story.”

Boyfriend: “It’s funny. You karate kicked your doctor. I get it. But can you please be a little less disgusting next time.”

Me: “My doctor getting the bloody nose was the funniest (yet most embarrassing) part of the story.”

Boyfriend: “You know what I mean.”

Me: “Yes sir. Not more ‘fingers inside me’ talk.”

Boyfriend: “Thanks, and your story is pretty F-ing funny.”

Me: “I know, right…”

And, because once upon a time when I started this blog I wanted it to be more and just embarrassing stories of me and a few of my friends, here is the recipe for the cocktail of choice in our home.

The Polish and a Pickle

Ingredients:

1 shot Dripping Springs Vodka (or any other quality Vodka for those who don’t live in central Texas)

1 Polish Pickle

Directions:

Drink the shot of Vodka. Take a bite out of the pickle. Enjoy.

The Worst, Most Awful, Most Embarrassing Story of My Life...

I know I said this week is Hospital Week, but I’m going to stretch “hospital” to also mean “doctor’s office”.

Okay so you know how I usually state how this is going to be another embarrassing story about myself and then I go on to type a funny little happening that caused me to blush at the time or even put my hand over my eyes and say to myself, “Wow. How awkward and weird can I be?” This is not one of those little funny quips. This is the Granddaddy of all embarrassing stories. This is the Big Enchilada, the Head Honcho, the Story to End All Embarrassing stories. I am pretty sure, like 90%, that I’ve never told this one to anyone. I mean even after drinking three bottles of wine with Davis Girl or downing Purple Margaritas made from Everclear with LSU Friend until they cut us off … still never told this story.

Also, tacos are not involved.

Here goes…

While I was in college I routinely went to the same doctor. I feel like I need to say that I saw her more than once because, just like hair dressers, I usually never go to the same one twice. I don’t know why really. I can get great medical advice or an awesome haircut and still never go back to that person again. I think it has to do with the fact that I am a procrastinator. I usually don’t go to the doctor until I’m convinced I’m about to die from Ebola or I’m about to run out of birth control. Also, I don’t ever get my hair cut until it has been 2 months overdue and I’ve had a crappy week at work and I just got paid. Magically those stars align about every 6 months. Because I wait and put off these appointments I usually spend an hour calling around trying to find some person (doctor or stylist) who can see me that afternoon.

My doctor was a young woman named Dr. Nguyen. I really liked her a lot. Davis Girl recommended me to her after she started seeing Dr. Nguyen about six months before my first visit. Davis Girl liked her because she was young and still really excited about medicine, gross illnesses, and curing people. At this time Davis Girl wanted to be a doctor and Dr. Nguyen helped her get a job as a tech at one of the local hospitals. I liked her because she explained procedures and medication in easy to understand terms, she was quick but I didn’t feel rushed, and she gave me lots of free samples for pills when I was trying to figure out something to help my back pain. (Turns out all I need is a bottle of Vodka and a large hot bath.)

For the Big Enchilada of embarrassing stories, I’m at Dr. Nguyen’s office one afternoon for my yearly pap smear and to renew my birth control. As I’m hanging out in the waiting room Dr. Nguyen’s totally hot boyfriend comes in the front door with her totally adorable dog. He introduces himself to me and then explains to the receptionist and me that he was out running with the dog and he got called into work and doesn’t have time to take him home, so he needs to leave the dog here with Dr. Nguyen. The receptionist says it’s no problem, takes the leash and hot boyfriend leaves.

10 minutes later I’m in the exam room with the tech/nurse lady (the one who takes your temperature and blood pressure) when Dr. Nguyen pokes her head in and asks me if it’s okay if her dog hangs out in my room because one of her partner's patients, who is in the waiting room, is allergic. I say it’s okay. She smiles at me and tell me his name is Ed and that he is very sweet. Dr. Nguyen then says she will be back very shortly once I’ve changed clothes. She and the nurse/tech/assistant person exit the room leaving only Ed and myself.

Being the dog lover that I am, as soon as the door closes I immediately crouch down to play with Ed. He comes rushing over, wagging his tail, and starts licking my hands. I pet him and talk to him and have myself a gay ‘ol time. The receptionist told me Dr. Nguyen and the Hottie rescued him from the shelter and I did see the Town Lake Animal Shelter ID on his collar. I also noticed that his full name was Special Ed, not just Ed.

After playing with the Ed for a few minutes I undressed and put on the soft white robes Dr. Nguyen has for her patients instead of the usual paper gown. (This information is not needed for the story but I always thought it was nice of her to have robes and not paper dresses without backs.) She knocks on the door and I tell her it’s okay for her to come in. When she enters Ed gets up from my side where he was sitting and goes over to her, wagging his tail. Dr. Nguyen pets him for a few minutes and we small talk until she tells the dog to go lay down so she can wash her hands and put on gloves.

We talk for a few minutes about why I’m here and how my back is doing.

Nothing weird happens.

She does a breast exam.

Nothing weird happens.

She has me do some back stretches.

Nothing weird happens.

Then she has me lie on my back so she can press on my stomach and feel my organs or something… I never know why doctors do this. Okay I mean I know it’s to make sure I don’t have giant Spleen tumor or to check to see that my Liver is in fact still there, but there is no point to do this to me because I am so ticklish. You know how three year olds are ticklish. That’s how ticklish I am. I laugh until I cry and sometimes I can’t breathe. Just like a three year old, you can look like you’re about to come across the couch to tickle me and I’ll burst into laughter. Now, I don’t know if you think this is funny or just sad that a 25 year old can’t control herself anymore than a 3 year old, but it’s true. Boyfriend even has strict rules about how and where he can touch me as not to tickle me. I know… weird. Yeah I get it. Back to the story…

Dr. Nguyen: “Okay, now I’m going to check to make sure your Intestines are still inside you.” (Or some other medical talk like that…)

Me: “Sure thing.”

Dr. Nguyen: Press… Press…

Me: (tying to hold it in) "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

This is when my appointment starts to go downhill. Although I can’t see this because I’m laughing up on the exam table, evidently my laughing has caused Ed to get extremely uncomfortable. Over my snickering and giggling I hear him start growling and get up from where he had been laying down all appointment.

Dr. Nguyen: “Ouch!!!! WFT!!!!!”

Me: (sitting up) “What? Are you okay?”

Dr. Nguyen: “I think Ed just bit me…”

Me: “Seriously?”

Yeah, my sweet little Doctor has just been bitten in the leg by her adorable rescue dog because she was tickling me. I quickly start apologizing for making noises like a rabid 3 year old, while Dr. Nguyen starts apologizing for her retarded dog. (Yeah, retarded. There is a reason his full name is Special Ed.) She stops my exam to clean her bloody wound and bandage it. Five minutes later, after a lot of “Wow that was weird” talk, my doctor is ready to finish my appointment. I should mention that she did ask me if I wanted her to put Ed in an empty room for the remaining time of my exam. Poor Ed was trying to hide in the corner, had his tail between his legs, and that look that all dogs get when they know they’ve done something seriously wrong. “Oh. Shit. I’ve seriously messed up. Why did I bite her? Why did I bite her?” You know, that look. I'm a big softy, so of course I said I didn't mind if he stayed. I mean he didn't bite me.

Five minutes later I’ve got my feet in the stirrups and Dr. Nguyen is… um… doing her doctorly thing down there, when I feel something brush by my feet. (Okay Time Out. Remember how I said I’m like a 3 year old when it comes to being ticklish and I giggled and laughed out loud when my doctor tried to do her job by seeing if my insides were in fact where they should be. Well, I’m like a three year old on crack when it comes to people touching or messing with my feet. I explode. I can’t help it. Something inside of me snaps and I can’t keep it together. Okay Time In.) Something just brushed against my foot. Then that something, which I can tell is very furry, stops under my foot and move his head back and forth causing his head hairs to tickle my feet. I can’t hold it in even though my doctor has her F-ing fingers inside me!!!

Me: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

But I don’t just laugh. Oh God, if only I just laughed I could have said at the beginning of this post that this is just another tail of me being my awkward, weird self. But this is the story to top all stories, so no, I don’t just laugh. The dog’s fur makes me laugh so much that my foot spasms and jumps out of the stirrup and I knee my doctor in the face which causes her nose to start bleeding which causes her dog to freak out and start barking wildly.

(Yeah, go ahead and read that sentence again. I’ll wait.)

Fuck my life.

If you are waiting for a cute end to this story, there isn’t one. If there is an upside to this story, a very small upside, it is that Dr. Nguyen was done with my exam so I didn’t have to wait for her to stop her bloody nose and control her dog to finish my appointment. She left to tend to her nose, I got dressed in record time, and was out of there ASAP. I did have to go back the next day to get my new birth control prescription that I hadn’t waited around for the day before (because there was no way I was going through that ordeal and not getting anything out of it). Dr. Nguyen had left it at the counter and the receptionist practically threw it at me when I asked for it.

And I’ve never been back since.

And that just might be the worst, most awful, most embarrassing story of my life.

When I Broke My Foot at the Happiest Place on Earth (No Not Disney World)... Okay the 2nd Happiest Place on Earth...

I’ve decided that after yesterday’s post this week will be all about hospitals. Won’t that be fun? Trust me I won’t write about the one time I almost could have maybe died Sophomore year of college because I had Meningitis (viral not the killer bacteria) and the school clinic I went to on Saturday morning told me I had the flu when really I could have been dying with Meningitis (because no one knew that I didn’t have the killer bacterial kind.) Then when I almost (maybe sorta) died Saturday night I had to make my Ex-Boyfriend (yeah the one with the snakes) take me to the hospital. Then four hours later when my parents arrived from San Antonio evidently my father took Ex-Boyfriend aside and was all, “Thank you for saving our daughters life. We are lucky she has you.” WFT!!! Ex-boyfriend told me that two weeks later and I only nodded but deep down I couldn’t believe he had taken this complement from my sweet, trusting father when he did nothing but drive me .3 miles to the hospital after I called him to help me save my own life!!! See that story isn’t really funny, so I won’t go into it.

But the time I broke my foot at Shlitterbahn… hilarious!

First things first. For you reader who have never been or never heard of Schlitterbahn let me explain to you the awesomeness that is the “hottest, coolest time in Texas”. Schlitterbahn is a family owned water park in New Braunfels, Texas. It has on numerous occasions been voted the best family water park in this country. (Yeah, it’s that good.) The original side of the park, it has two sides now, uses only water pumped from the Comal River. The water is used, sans chemicals, then dumped back into the river. One of the greatest things about Schlitterbahn is when you buy an admissions ticket you can then bring in as many coolers and as much food as you want. This means that after five hours of water slides, wave pools, and water-coasters you don’t have to pay 12 dollars for a turkey leg. Oh, and central Texas has a large German community, hence Schlitterbahn or “slippery road”.

So pretty much in an area where the nearest beach is at least a four hour drive, Schlitterbahn is the greatest thing ever in the 100+ degree Texas summer heat. Davis Girl, Boy Roommate, Old AT Co-Worker, and I decided to go on a Monday to avoid some of the crazy lines and annoying families. It was a great day. We rode lots of rides and slid down lots of slides. At about 3, Davis Girl reminded us that she needed to go back to where we parked our cooler and re apply sunscreen because she is all white and transparent. At this point we were on the other side of the park and it would take us about 20 minutes or so to get back to Camp Cooler. I don’t think any of us wanted to go, but we all took one for the team and decided to walk back with Davis Girl. After all no one wants a friend with skin cancer. So we walked all of twenty steps until we get distracted by this…
Han’s Hideout.

This is pretty much the kiddy pirate ship ride of the park. It’s made to be climbed on by seven year olds, so of course we thought it was the coolest thing since sliced bread. There were different levels and platforms and each had buckets of water to dump on people and guns to shot water at people. Again, awesome. Then at the very top of the ship there were two slides, side by side, to race your friend to the bottom… you’re seven year old friend.

So, we get to the top and Davis Girl and Old AT Co-Worker pick a slide and race each other to the bottom. Once they are on their way, Boy Roommate and I step into place to take our turns. Now, everyone who has ever been to a water park knows that you have to wait for the employee at the top of the slide to give you okay to start your own wild ride to the bottom. I step up into “next rider position”, and immediately turn to the fifteen year old in the red tank top to give me the okay to slide. He looks me in the eye and… yes this happened… winks. Now I’m all hopped up on adrenalin, all excited to beat Boy Roommate down the slide, and I take this wink as, “Hey, Girl. Go ahead and slide down this awesome pirate ship water slide, and while you’re at it, beat this dude to your left. You can take him. Go for it.” So I go. Evidently I was suppose to take this wink as, “Hey, Girl. You’re a little hottie. I know you are probably at least five years older than me and some people might call you a statutory rapist, but I think you and me could have a little something, something going on. Oh, and you shouldn’t go down the slide yet.” So I’m going down the slide. I’m having the time of my life… well not so much. I mean it’s a cool slide and all, but it was designed for seven year olds. Anyways, 10 seconds later I round the last turn in the slide and BAM!!!! I run right into Old AT Co-Worker’s head. Actually my left foot runs right into Old AT Co-Workers head. Like this…

Now I was not expecting to slide into my friend’s noggin so my first thoughts and reactions were of complete shock and bewilderment. I mean I was having fun, sliding down the water slide, and then POW Old AT Co-Workers head. Something didn’t add up. Very quickly the lifeguard at the bottom of the pirate ship was all up in my personal space asking me why the heck I was running into the nice young man who was sliding before me. Honest to God the first thought that ran through my head was, “Wow I’m really fast. I totally beat Boy Roommate down the slide.” Then I hear shouting coming from the employee at the top of the ship, “Why did you go? I didn’t tell you to go!”

Davis Girl: “Wow Lemon Lady you can’t just go whenever you want to go.”

Boy Roommate: “Dude, cheating doesn’t count. You didn’t beat me.”

Old AT Co-Worker: “My head is fine, but really you should have waited till the guy said you could go.”

Lifeguard at the Bottom: “Ma’am you must wait to be signaled to ride our rides.”

Me: “The guy totally gave me the okay!!! We can go ask him.”

As I am finishing this last sentence I try to stand up.

Me: “OOOAAACCHHHH!!!!”

Then I looked down and saw this…

Yeah, in the 45 seconds we had all been arguing about whether I had the right away to slide down the pirate ship of death a golf ball sized lump had appeared on my foot and I couldn’t put any weight on it.

Lifeguard at the Bottom: “Oh, man. Do you think it’s broken?”

Me: “It hurts…”

Davis Girl: “We need to get you to first aid.”

Me: “What the F is under my skin???”

Boy Roommate then picks me up and carries me in his arms across the park to the first aid station with mothers giving me the evil eye and whispering to their children, “See that’s what happens to you when you don’t follow the rules.”

The people at the first aid station then force me to sign a paper saying I won’t sue their asses before they would give me an ice pack for my foot. Then they put me in a wheelchair and made me sit out in front of the park why everyone else in my party goes and fetched the coolers and cars. I sat there for almost thirty minutes why eighth graders talked about the “poor, pathetic girl in the wheelchair” and “Why would anyone in a wheelchair want to spend the day at a water park.” I hate kids.

After spending thirty minutes driving around looking for an open clinic in New Braunfels, we decided to just drive back home to Austin. We ended up in the same Emergency Room I had been to eight months prior when I had Meningitis. Except this time I really wasn’t dying so I got to wait four hours to see a doctor. Surprisingly, I was in a very good mode (and this was even before the doctor gave me Vicodin). This tragic accident had happened in the afternoon, so we had practically had a full day at Schlitterbahn, Davis Girl had came and went with food for herself so she wasn’t a crazy bitch (you know those people who can’t function without a high blood sugar level) and we got to have wheelchair races in the hospital hallways.

Then I found out my foot was broken, and it would remain broken for the rest of summer. FU Schlitterbahn and the evil German family that invented you.

How I Ruined My Family's 2009 Memorial Day Weekend...

Before I get to today's post I just want to remind everyone who is reading that if you aren't following my blog you could... It makes me really happy to know people are reading about me embarrassing myself on a daily basis. No pressure, but there might be a big prize for followers!!! Okay there is no prize, but still it only takes a few seconds out of your day.

How I Ruined My Family’s 2009 Memorial Day Weekend…

This story still makes me laugh when I think about it and again falls into the “this would only happen to me” category.
Boyfriend and I made plans for Memorial Day Weekend to drive down to San Antonio and spend time with my parents and my sister, brother in law, and nephew who were also going to make the trek down south. My parents were excited because we would all be there, but more importantly the grandson would be there. I’m sure Sister and Brother in Law were excited because my parents would be playing with their kid 24/7, thus giving them some breathing time. And myself? I was just happy to be with everyone and no working for a weekend.

On Saturday my mother decided that we should pack a picnic, grab our swimsuits and floats, and spend the day at the river. What an American thing to do, right? I think she made this suggestion because Brother in Law had planned on going to the lake with his friends for the weekend until Sister told him they were going to her parents. So that morning we packed the cars (Yeah cars. My nephew can’t go anywhere without an entourage of plastic crap.) and headed 10 miles down the road to the river. The Guadalupe River twists and turns all throughout central Texas and I feel like you can never be more than 15 miles away from it if you are anywhere in between San Antonio and Austin. My parents own a piece of land in a community where there are parks with access to the river. We enjoy going to these parks because you have to have land in the community to use them. This means that not everyone and their step children are trying to enjoy the same plot of nature you are.

Okay that was the back story; here is when this post starts to pick it up…

We arrive at the river park and all is well. It was sprinkled on us a little in the car ride over, but once we reached the small parking lot for the park the sky was clear, the birds were chirping, and Brother in Law and I couldn’t get in the water fast enough. Toobs were blown up during the car ride and beers were popped as soon as the car stopped. We all grabbed as much baby crap as we could and walked down the hill to the river. It was beautiful. We were worried there wouldn’t be any water in the river and we were wrong. The river was flowing on the deep side and nice and shallow for wading and the kiddo on the shallow side. One other family was spending the day swimming and relaxing by the water with their two elementary school aged kids. Brother in Law and I were in the water on our floats with our beers before Sister and my parents had even put down the coolers and bags. It was wonderful.

Okay I guess that was more back story: here is where the dialogue picks up…

Two Minutes Later…

Me: EEKKK!

Brother in Law: Are you okay?

Me: A fish just touched me leg and freaked me out.

Dad: Lemon Lady don’t be silly.

Me: It creaped me out.

Dad: You’re ridiculous.

The little fish touching me weren’t scary or dangerous by any means but I moved away from them because I don’t like river or lake “things” touching me. You see I love going toobing and I love the lake, but I don’t like touching anything in either body of water. It has to do with not being able to see under the water and the fact that rivers and lakes (with only a few exceptions) are gross. Bottom of the lake between your toes – gross. Getting into your toob on the river bank – gross. Swimming in the middle of the lake not touching the bottom or nasty floating algae – fine. Toobing down this river with a beer in your hand staying away from the creepy, dark, shaded banks – fine. I moved all of three feet down the river and away from the little fish. There was a slight current and because I have delicate feet and didn’t want to float down the river only to have to walk back to where my family was sitting I put my feet on a rock that was almost big enough to be sticking out of the water. I need to remind the readers that this was very shallow water, like maybe 8 inches shallow. So this rock wasn’t that big. I had just enough space to nestle my feet so I wouldn’t float too far away from the beer cooler, my adorable nephew, or my hilarious brother in law.

Two Minutes Later…

Me: OOOUUUCCCHHHHH!!!!!!

Brother in Law: Hahahaha (I love how he has no idea what happened but still laughs because it’s happening to me and not him.)

Dad: Lemon Lady seriously they’re just tiny fish.

Me: (Still sitting in the toob, but holding my right foot in my hands) Whatever Dad, something bit me.

Dad: The fish didn’t bite you.

Me: Um, something did… It hurt and I’m bleeding.

Brother in Law: (Jumped up from his toob and was out of the water faster than I could put my bleeding foot back in the water to wash it off.)

I very awkwardly get out of my toob and try to stand up. I say awkwardly because there is no other way to describe trying to stand on unstable rocks on one foot so my father can see the blood on my other foot in a flowing river with one hand holding my toob so it won’t keep floating down the river. Awkward. I make it to my dad and he sees the blood.

Dad: Wow something did bite you!

Me: No shit.

Our fun day of at the river has turned into “What scary monster lives in 8 inches of water and has a taste for human flesh?” day. Also I don’t know if you really paid attention to the timeline of these events, but all of this happened before my mom and sister could slather enough sunscreen on themselves to get in the water. So my mom is examining my foot, Sister is holding my water loving nephew back from the river trying to explain to him that after talking about how he was going to get to play in the water all day for the past week he can now not get in the water, Brother in Law is still laughing at me and the whole situation, and my Dad…

Dad: Hey! She wasn’t lying. There is a snake over here… I think the snake bit her.

(Okay. Time for a Zack Morris style timeout. For the past six minutes we have been at the river we had already seen like five snakes swimming in the river, and we commented on all of them. “Oh, look. There’s another one. See over there…” But they were all on the other side of the river. Now this river, it’s isn’t exactly the Mississippi. The other side of the river, the “over there”, was maybe twenty, twenty five feet away. So in our minds the snakes swimming freely “over there” were of no danger because they were “over there” and we were in the shallow, 8 inch deep water “over here”. Yeah not a one of our college educated minds (well besides my one year old nephew) could put two and two together that if the snakes could swim on the west bank of the river… they probably could swim on the east bank of the river. Okay. Time in.)

Mom: Oh, no. Do you think it was poisonous?

Me: SNAKES AREN’T POISONOUS!!!!

Sister: Yeah, yeah we get it. (She had heard me lecture people on this before) They’re venomous… there’s a difference…

Me: There is a huge difference. People eat snakes and don’t die. If they were poisonous every back woods hick would fall down dead after frying up a Rattler. As long as they don’t eat the head, where the venom ducts are, the redneck is free to live and free to be an ignorant jackass.

Brother in Law: (To my nephew) Earmuffs. (Okay maybe he didn’t say that, but in my mind it would have been hilarious.)

Dad: If you two are done… I think Lemon Lady should go to the hospital and get that checked out. I can’t tell what kind of snake this is, but if it’s a Cottonmouth we better get going.

(Okay I’m just going to call all of these Zach Morris Style Time Outs in the future. I was not bit by a Cottonmouth or any other venomous snake. As much as I was flattered by my parents not wanting me to die and all there was no way I was bitten by this… I am by no means a snake expert, but Ex-Boyfriend (who I dated for a while during the beginning of college) was a big snake fan and I learned a lot about our no-legged friends from him. Plus we bought a few and kept them at my house so for a little while I shared an apartment with four slithery friends. Venomous snake bites hurt like Hell. Like they burn and you wriggle with pain. Although I had never been bitten by a snake (mine were lovers not haters) I knew I wasn’t “wriggling” in pain. It surprised me and I yelled ouch, but fire was not coursing through my veins. Also, as much as I made sure you, the reader, knew that I did bleed, I wasn’t gushing blood or anything. Venomous snakes bite down with two fangs and they make large holes when the fangs are then withdrawn, thus causing the bitten person to bleed a lot. Me, not so much. Time in.)

Mom: We are leaving now.

Sister: You and Dad take her in your car and we will pack everything up and follow.

Mom: Okay. That’s good. Now we just have to get up the hill.

Me: What do you mean get up the hill.

Mom: Maybe Dad and Brother in Law and carry you.

Me: I can walk okay.

Mom: If you walk up that hill you will get winded and your breathing will get fast and your heartrate will rise and the poison in you veins will rush throughout your body even faster!!!

Me: Venom!!!

Mom: Whatever!!!

Me: Dad and Brother in Law can’t carry me up that hill. (This was true. It is a big hill.)

Mom: Okay walk, but try not to exert yourself and get winded, but also hurry up it’s probably a 12 minute drive to Boerne (the closest town).

The drive back into town was very uneventful. I didn’t pass out or die. My foot tingled a little bit and I was hot, but other than that it was very boring. We got into town and more importantly back into civilization where our cell phones worked and Mom found a 24 hour clinic. As Dad pulled up to the front door Mom was already jumping out and yelling to the clinic workers that I had been bit by a snake.

Clinic Worker #1: Um, yeah, you can’t stay here.

Clinic Worker #2: We don’t have snake bit kits or anti poison or anything.

Me: (Yelling from the car because my mom’s car door and the clinic door were both still open) IT’S ANIT-VENOM!!!

Clinic Worker #1: You’re going to have to take her to a hospital.

Luckily for us the nearest hospital was all of three miles down the road. Brand spanking new too! We got there in 45 seconds.

45 Seconds later… (Mom and I entered the hospital while Dad was parking the car.)

Mom: My daughter was bit by a snake!

Nurse: A snake. What type of snake? Was it Poisonous?

Me: Snakes aren’t pois..

Mom: Quiet Lemon Lady. (Turning to the nurse) We’re not sure what kind of snake. It was in the water.

Nurse: Let’s take a look…

I then spend two hours in the hospital while three nurses, my Dad, and my Sister and Brother in Law all tried to figure out what kind of snake had bitten me. Since I never even saw the little jerk snake I didn’t have much to say in these conversations. Dad saw it, but only all coiled up and underwater. Sister and Brother in Law saw it much better. Evidently after my parents rushed me and my bitten foot to the emergency room the other family that was at the river helped Sister and Brother in Law carry all the crap we had left back up to the car. Sister and Brother in Law explained what happened and they quickly called their kids out of the river. (Yeah these kids had been swimming and playing all of three feet from my rock with the snake under it and did it bother them? Of course not. Again, things that would only happen to me.) One of the kids had a net for catching fish and the grownups decided to net the snake out on to the river bank to get a better look at it for identification purposes. (That and you know Brother in Law and that other Dad loved the idea of catching the big bad snake.) Back at the hospital Dr. Whatshisface told me there was no way I was bitten by a venomous snake. Seeing how I wasn’t dying, I agreed with his diagnosis. (Evidently you have to get a PhD to know the difference between poisonous and venomous.) Once the nurses had the pictures of the snake (taken by Brother in Law on his iPhone) and the eye witness counts of what it looks like from Dad, Sister, and Brother in Law they decided I was bit by this guy… Introducing my toe eater… The Diamondback Water Snake.

Interesting Facts about The Diamondback Water Snake:

They are found predominantly near slow moving streams, rivers, and other small bodies of water. (Yeah I know.)

While not endangered or threatened, their main threat is human ignorance. Diamondback water snakes are often mistaken for cottonmouths or rattlesnakes and are killed out of fear. In actuality, diamondback water snakes (and other species of water snake) are far more common than the venomous snakes in their range, especially in areas that are frequented by humans. (This explains why I’m not dead and why we saw five of his little friends hanging out on the other side of the river.)

We went home and played card games and Risk for the rest of the weekend.


Just a little ending note... I am by no means making fun of the way my parents handled this situation. I love them both very much and I'm glad they were going to do everything they possibly could so that I wouldn't die. Thanks Mom and Dad. Oh, and I didn't just leave Boyfriend out of this story, he was working Saturday morning and drove down to San Antonio that afternoon. He fully thinks I'm super silly and probably kicked the poor snake.

Project Runway Episode 4: Crazy Hats and Bitchy Women...

This season of Project Runway just keeps getting better and better. I’m sorry there was no recap last week because of the wedding. I watched the episode on Sunday night and thought about recapping it, but decided against it. I’d rather write about Davis Girl’s boobs. It was this season’s first “unconventional” materials challenge. The designers had to make an outfit using only materials they could buy at a cheesy party store. Andy won with a ribbon dress and Sarah was out with an ugly dress made out of what appeared to be elephant skin and paper palm leaves. Moving on…

We open this dramatic episode with Ivy passed out and on her way to the hospital. Evidently Ivy “smokes and drinks a lot of Diet Coke” so Gretchen and Valerie decide she must have passed out because of stress. I’m not quite sure why they brought up the Diet Coke, but maybe it was an AD placement like the PiperLime accessories wall. Turns out Ivy was just dehydrated. All is well and she gets back to the hotel room at 3 in the morning all watered up and with a fabulous idea to recreate a vision she had at the hospital room. Nothing says fashion like hospital wear.

Meeting with Heidi on the Runway!!!

Ladies and gentlemen today we have the crazy hat challenge! Philip Treacy (who spells his name all crazy like his hats and looks like a banker from the Midwest) has brought his amazing milliner creations onto the runway for the designers to be inspired by. Michael C (who from this point on will be identified as Straight Michael) calls this opportunity “the Holy Grail”. Yes! Bring on the Monty Python hats! Then Heidi brings all the models out in the outrageous head gears and the designers get to pick their model based on what hat they want to work with. Except everyone is totally boring and sticks with the model they have been working with even if they kinda don’t like the hat they are stuck with. They all use the “I’ve had such success with ______, I have to stick with her.” I want to scream at the TV, “Um maybe Gretchen and Valerie can say that, but all you other dopes haven’t even been in the top so where is this success???”

Sketching Time/Mood Visit!!!

Everyone seems pretty excited about their ideas and we hear a lot of “freaking amazing”, a David Bowie idea, and even some warrior talk. As usual Mondo is being Mondo and wandering around Mood waiting to hear “a million, trillion voices from the fabric”. Oh, and Ivy is taking inspiration from the hospital curtains because I know when I see hospital curtains I think high fashion dress to go with my fuchsia, 2 foot high hat.

Workroom!!!

Casanova wants to quit because his work sucks and he can’t handle the judges telling him his works sucks. Really he is just being a queen and he gets back to work on a dress to go with personally my favorite hat of the group. (A lime green and black upside down question mark.) Valerie forgot to buy a zipper and my first thought is if only that dude Jason was still around with his fashion corset because I bet there would be an extra zipper or two hidden somewhere around his fabulous waist. Lucky for Valerie, Ivy steps in and loans her one. Kristen then spends the whole day freaking out because she has to design a dress around an orchid hat. She is so… confused and doesn’t know what to make. Really? Designing around a flower is hard? Be lucky you weren’t around for the make a dress out of flowers challenge (Santino season) or the get inspired by the botanical gardens challenge (when Kenly made the dragon scales dress). Hello Georgia O’Keefe dress… Go! And Then Ivy eats a leaf… that will help. Wait, now Kristen loves her hat and is going to make a black dress. (headdesk) Somewhere her thought process went from “pretty orchid” to “I wore orchids in my hair when I got married” to “black dress”. Then she starts talking about sex and how flowers are like sex on a stick (or stem???) and then gets slapped in the ass by Casanova and she’s back to work.
Apparently it’s Father’s Day. Happy Father’s Day Straight Michael and… um… no one else.

Tim Visit!!!

Valerie is making a jacket with zippers, but more importantly she has a tape measure wrapped around her noggin like a hip head band. April is making hot shorts that look like a diaper. Then Tim says this gem to AJ, “The woman that can afford that hat can afford a poke-a-dot dress where the poke-a-dots line up.” Snap. Peach wants to make a short dress, but not short enough to show off the “good china”. Classy. Mondo has new glasses, again. Who the Hell is Christopher??? Tim calls Casanova’s dress “Donna Karen circa 1988” and Lifetime gives us DonDonDon scary music.

Later That Night at Atlas…

Trash Talk Time!!!

Gay Michael talks about Casanova’s old lady dress and I feel like he is stealing Tim’s thunder. Don’t steal Tim’s thunder. Gretchen is complete crap. Evidently this snobby attitude started last week after her two wins in a row. She is like that chubby girl (yeah, they’re all chubby) in my college classes that had an opinion about everything and would never ever just shit the F up. (Except this is fashion so she is skinny.)

Runway Morning!!!

Gay Michael spends too much time with hair and makeup making sure the “stay true to the hat.” Dude it dosen't take a rocket scientist or a master hair stylist to put her hair in a bun. Oh, God. Casanova is thinking Princess Laya hair. Remember the taste level, Casanova. I heart Mondo so much. He is giving his model a Tavi mustache. I also heart that Philip Treacy is positioning the hats on the models himself.

Runway!!!

Hahahahahah…. Heidi walks out onto the runway with a giant “upside down rose being rammed into her forehead” hat and “Kiss From a Rose” is playing over the speakers. Awesome.

AJ: This is very Ladies who Lunch meets Pretty Women. I can't tell if the poke-a-dots match up but it looks pretty well made. I feel like there could have been a little less tulle for my taste. I also don't see the connection between the hat and dress, but then I was thinking what I would have designed for this hat and I couldn't think of anything better. Safe.

Andy: The only thing I can think of when I see this dress is the movie Big Business with Bette Midler and Lily Tomlin. So in the movie both Bette and Lily play twins separated at birth and then end up meeting in New York at the Plaza hotel. Country Bette tries so hard to be fashionable and I believe she would have bought this in aheart beat. This had to have been Andy's inspiration.

April: Wow this chick has some serious balls. I actually see the whole "futuristic resort" thing she was going for, but I agree with the judges that she didn't take if far enough. And by "far enough" I mean far enough down her legs. Michael calls this the layered panty look and all the judges end up hating it. I am glad the let her squeak by to the next round because at least she was creative. Oh and does anyone think that April is like Anne from ANTM way back when during the season Eva won? I mean doesn't she just scream weird artsy college volleyball player??? Anyone???

Casanova: This hat is still may favorite, and the dress isn't bad. I think this is the first challenge where I can really see that Casanova can sew. Granted he is sewing a dress from 20 years ago, but at least the man has some skills. I love the bright lip, but pink lip stick can't be the best thing about the outfit if you want to win.

Christopher: All of the designers love this and I don't get it. Why the belt and leggings and giant boots??? I feel like all the accessories take away from the prettiness of the dress/coat thing. You really can't even see the model under all that crap. To quote Ian Malcolm from Jurassic Park's sequel The Lost World, "It's so agreeable to be proven right." The judges hate this! Michael says that the hardness of the accessories and the curtain dress take away from the softness of the hat and I couldn't agree more. Christopher, Sir, you are in the bottom three, but safe to come back another day.

Gretchen: Obviously she isn't winning since we haven't had to hear her talk about how wonderful she is all freaking episode long. She made crazy jopher legging things and a tunic I think I saw at Macys the other day. I hate Gretchen so I don't want to talk about her stupid look anymore. The hat is totally awesome, though. It reminds me of when I was in 3rd grade and a part of Odyssey of the Mind. We did a skit about the Trojan War and made helmets from plastic plant pots with feather things running the length of the head made out of coffee filters. That is the Philip Treacy version of my OM helmet.

Ivy: Dude this girl has on an amazing hot pink Malibu Barbie hat and she made a hospital curtain suit thing. Go Away Ivy.

Kristen: Okay, answer me this. If this dress is support to be sex, why would Kristen put a red piece of fabric coming out from in between the models legs? She talked so much about the symbolism of an orchid and then she made an poorly made Jessica McClintock "Aunt Flow" dress. The judges don't like it either and put her in the bottom three where Nina disses her matchy matchy flower shoes. Philip Treacy brings up the very good point that if she was trying to make a flowy dress to match a fragile flower hat, why would you make it out of heavy black satin. For this, Kristen is sent home.

Straight Michael: Pretty but boring handkerchief dress. Casanova brings up the point that every girl in Puerto Rico has ten of these dresses in their closets. I had a few about 5 years ago so the fact that they are popular in Puerto Rico now makes since. I'm not sure if I like the colors together, but maybe the color combination is a little too sophisticated for me. The judges love this look!!! Nina likes the nude shoes and Philip Treacy likes that he brought the look together by the iridescence-ness of the hat and dress. (This seems hard to see on TV and in the pictures.) Turns out they really love it and he is the winner!!!

Gay Michael: OMG I love this wacky look!!! The top looks like it is made out of perforated card bored, and the skirt... it's a crinkle skirt. AKA a broomstick skirt. My mom had like ten of these back in the day and I had one with the ABCs on it. Props Gay Michael, Props. The judges love it too, even after Gay Michael describes his hat as warrior/farmer (my favorite kind). He also goes on about the sun in his outfit and what represents the sun??? This tiny little gold belt you can barely see. Boyfriend calls this look "American Gothic" and I totally agree.

Mondo: Mondo, Mondo, Mondo... this is ridiculous and yet I still kinda love it. You can do no wrong in my heart. I love how nothing goes together and that you have a since of humor in your design. The pants are a little high wasted in my opinion, but whatever. Please more mustaches in the future.

Peach: One of the coolest hats goes to one of the dumpiest designers. It's a complete Lilly Pulitzer knock off that has nothing to do with the hat. Sorry Philip I too feel your pain.

Valerie: I was excited to see this look because she began by describing it as David Bowie from The Labyrinth and talked about making a cool white leather jacket with lots of zipper detail. Where is that look? Because that's the look I want to critique. I just think this is disappointing because I was expecting more. The judges like it, though, and put Valerie in the top three. And then they go on to describe the jacket.. "Hello it's not a jacket!!! It's a vest... maybe, but not a jacket!!!" The judges call it hard yet sexy and Michael likes the geometric hem. Philip Treacy doesn't see the connection between hat/mask thing and the dress. This got me wondering if you think he has preconceived notions of what the outfits should look like because he's spent so much time on the hats. What do you think???

BTW: Ivy is a bitch and I hate her (and Gretchen) for not being happy for Straight Michael's win. I stood up for her Asian Ass during the first challenge when she sucked and now she's judging other people when she can't even make it into the top three???

Next Week: Team Challenge and a whole lot of tears...

My Plan For Winning The Lottery...

Lately I’ve been thinking about winning the lottery. (Okay, I should probably cross that out because “lately” is so vague.) I think about winning the lottery ALL THE TIME, and not in a, “hummmm, that looked like a nice car. If I won the lottery I would totally buy one of those.” kinda way. But in a, “Here is my 27 step plan for collecting my money, dishing it out, and how I would live the rest of my suddenly way awesomer life”.

A few years ago I watched a show about lottery spenders who changed their lives for the better and spenders who completely fucked up their lives with all the money. I can’t tell you how much that second group of people pissed me off. I mean really old man you couldn’t think of anything better to do than bring 25,000$ cash into a strip club right off a highway??? I understand your daughter is upset that you were SHOT TO DEATH AND ROBBED, but don’t you think in her mind, deep down, she totally thinks her dad was a complete moron… just a little. Or, there was this guy from Florida who spend all his money collecting ancient Samurai Swords and life size statues of John Belushi who also built his 15 year old son his own house in the back yard. Then he wondered out loud to the camera, “How could my son get so mixed up in drugs he would be in rehab at age 18?” Really dude??? You gave him thousands of dollars in allowance money and his own bachelor pad. How could he not get addicted to meth and cocaine??? It’s just like Mark Price’s house in Germany. The parents of Mark and Jon Price decided it would be a good idea to give their sons pretty much their own house when they moved to Germany. Mark and Jon had the basement apartment all to themselves. It had a living room, two bedrooms, small kitchen, bathroom, and most importantly its own door. Yeah, they could come and go as they pleased and lock their parents out. Now in my 16 year old mind this was the coolest place in the whole wide world. In my 25 year old brain, the one that never wants children and thinks teenagers are creepy, I KNOW THIS IS A BAD IDEA! Hum… what went on at Mark and Jon’s house… Drinking… check. Drugs… check. Fornication (I was going to write “don’t you ever watch Friends” here as an inside joke to Germany people, but then I read it back to myself and I didn’t think other readers would understand that I was talking about the TV show and not just watching my friends have sex…. Awkward.)…check. All of these things happened and we were good kids!!! This Florida son can’t be a well adjusted guy (his dad drinks coffee every morning with his John Belushi statue in the garden). He really had no chance at a normal drug free life.

Watching another show I learned what to do when I find out the lottery Gods have blessed me with the golden ticket. The first thing I will do is put the ticket in a safety deposit box in a bank. This excites me because I’ve never had anything special enough to warrant getting a safety deposit box, but I’ve always wanted to go back behind the large “wheel door” safe thing in the bank I use. (See winning the loto would just make all kinds of dreams come true.) After that I would immediately driving straight to San Antonio to see my parents. On the drive down I would call my mom and completely freak her out that I have something important to tell her and she’s going to need to sit down. Maybe I’m pregnant or on drugs, I haven’t decided which angle I’m going to work, but when I get there I’ll be all somber until my parents can’t stand it any longer. Then I’ll be like, “Surprise bitches I won the lottery!!!!” (Except I won’t say “bitches” so maybe that’s the lingo I’ll use to tell my sister and brother in law instead.) Then we will dance around the room together.

Getting the parents in on my winning secret is a good thing, because I’ll probably need them to recommend a tax attorney to me. See I also learned that you shouldn’t just turn the lottery ticket into the state and collect your money, but get an attorney to set up a trust for you in some random name. In Texas all lottery winners’ names are public record and any ol’ shmuck can look up the name of past winners. I don’t want every dead beat in Texas knocking on my door for hand outs, hence the trust. I’m guessing my parents know a tax lawyer. I mean if anyone I know knows a tax lawyer it would be my parents, since they have money and stuff...

Okay so I’ve now collected my money and it’s in the “Tinkerbelle Trust of Texas” (or something like that) and now I get to dole it out. What sucks here is I’ve already paid a truck load in taxes to just get the money in the first place and now giving it away will cost another truck load. Because of all these silly taxes I’ll need to win at least 50 million originally so I can collect 25 million only to lose another 10 million in taxes giving it to family. I figure I can give at least 5 million out to the family for various houses, debt pay offs, and college funds. Then I can play like I’m Oprah and Santa Clause’s love baby and be all, “Boom you get a house!” “Boom you get 200,000!” “Boom!” “Boom!” “Boom!”

So far none of my friends don’t know anything about my sudden wealth. Boyfriend will be the first to know after all my family. I think I’ll be pretty exhausted after playing Biracial Santa for my family and I’ll surprise Boyfriend with a trip. I can pick him up from work with all our bags packed and take him to the airport and he won’t know what’s going on until he sees the boarding passes that say “Maldives”. Then he’ll go crazy, and I’ll go crazy, and it will be awesome. (I might have to revise this plan and go to the Seychelles if those crazy Somalia Pirates are still around, but it’s no biggy… when you’re rich you can change plans quickly.) Then while we are laying in the white sand or lounging in our hut of over the crystal clear water I will tell him the whole story how I have been a multimillionaire for over a month now and how it has killed me to not be able to tell him. Then, if we are able to go to the Maldives, we will eat dinner at that restaurant that’s completely underwater in a clear tube thing so we can see the fishes and sharks.

Then when get back from out trip…
1. Quit the job, and spend my day doing things I like to do until I figure out what I really want to do.
2. Hire a personal chef.

Yeah, that’s my plan. Soul search and eat well. I would stay in my little rental house until I found something I really loved that I could fix up, or until Boyfriend found land he liked and we could build. I would spend my days learning and taking classes. Classes on how to be a better writer. (First lesson: fragment sentences and too much punctuation) Classes to teach my how to make jewelry (because I like sparkly fun things) and how to weld (because I think it would be so cool to learn to weld). Later on in life Boyfriend and I could travel the world. I really want to go to Machu Picchu and he wants to see Europe and Africa. I have always told Davis Girl if I won we would fly to New York and go shopping, and an old Ann Taylor co-worker of mine and myself made a deal a long time ago that if either of us ever won the lotto we would pay of each other’s Ann Taylor cards. So, I would do that for her. I would tip people really well and buy the cutest fawn Great Dane puppy I could find. Like this one…

I plan on winning the lottery very soon so get your requests in now.

Crappy Bands, 8th grade A-Hole, and a Batman Mask...

Random Thoughts…

A couple of days ago I was driving two co-workers and myself to lunch at Subway (Eat Fresh). As I pulled into an empty parking spot I noticed that next to the Sandwich store was a small postal shop. I had two or three letters in my car I needed to mail, so this discovery made me happy. I turned to the co-worker who was riding shot gun and told him to open the center console of my little SUV and pull out the envelope. Turns out the letter I was looking to mail was nowhere to be seen but there was a stack of CDs inside, and which CD happened to be on top of the group??? Creed. Oh, yeah straight out of sophomore year My Own Prison. Both co-workers then spent the entire lunch hour singing in raspy Scott Strap voice. (Yeah, I know his name and didn’t have to look it up.)

So who do y'all think is the band that's all cool and whatnot right now, but in 10 years will embarrass me by being on my iPod???

I did a post few weeks ago about my greatest grudges of all time. The story about Karen pushing me into the big bathroom and then how I got blamed was just long enough to write a blog post about. This one isn’t, but this person is just as much a mortal enemy as evil 1st grade witch, Karen.

Tristan Maldonado. Tristan Maldonado told all the cool people in 8th grade he saw me picking my nose in English class. Okay, here is where we all need to be honest. We have all, this includes you Tristan, picked our nose at some point. Sometimes we don’t have a tissue. Maybe what we thought was just going to be a light nose scratch turns into to something more once your hand gets up there. Whatever the reason everyone has done it. I admit it. I have picked my nose. What I would never, ever, ever do… is pick it in a room full of mean, snobby, 14 year old haters. Middle School is harsh and there is no way in Hell I went anywhere near my nose in the middle of English class you mean insensitive jerk!!! Seriously why would anyone say something like that? I wasn’t exactly part of the popular crowd in 8th grade, but I was not a loser either. I was short, had braces, wore my sister’s clothes all the time (because she left the house before me and came home after me), and in honors classes, but not a loser. (Oh, and now that I remember it… It was Honors English, so he was just as much a nerd as I was.) Then, and this is where you’ll be like “oh, no he didn’t”, my senior year of High School he told Best Friend that he thought I was hot. Yeah, “Oh no he didn’t”!!! You don’t get to think I’m pretty you mean, hateful, jack ass!!! You, sir, are now and forever on my shit list.


Oh and at the wedding Chicago Bridesmaid took this classic…