You're Welcome (that's right you better enjoy my half assed blog posts bc you're lucky to be getting these right now... i'm just kidding. i tease...)

A few weeks ago I was sent this blog post by nearly everyone I know. It also made the rounds on Facebook fairly quick. I’m not going to lie, I laughed out loud. I also most peed my pants a few days later when I ran into a large chicken hanging out in the front yard of a house right across from the park we play kickball in.
You’re Welcome.

You know what else is funny. When my dog falls asleep with his teeth hanging out his mouth.
You’re Welcome.

You know is not so awesome... your giant dog learning how to get up on your bed that you don't allow him on. Actually it's even less awesome when he wakes you and your boyfriend up at 7 in the morning to let him out and feed him so you then take your sleepy ass to the futon to fight for space with your boyfriend and watch some DVRed soccer only to realize 2 hours later that you can't find your dog so you drag yourself back into your bedroom to find him laying in the middle of you bed.
But, he is really cute so You're Welcome.

Back to awesome, my coworker was reading this book at work. Evidently she went to Barnes and Nobles and asked for an equestrian novel. (She used to ride for the Kansas St. Equestrian Team.) They didn't have anything at the store so the order it for her. She had no idea what she was getting herself into until she opened the B&N box that came in the mail a few days later.
You're Welcome

Seriously You Guys... Can I Just Grow Up Already

When do you become an adult?

I know I’ve asked this question before, but seriously this time. When will I be a grown up?

Here are somethings that have happened in the past week that make me think I’m grown up…

I paid my car insurance
I made healthy food for lunches this week
I turn off all the lights in my house when I leave
I only had two glasses of wine on Saturday instead of the whole bottle
I woke up early on Sunday and took my dog for a walk

Here are some thing I’ve done in the past week that make me think I’ll be child FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE…

I paid rent – 2 days late
I had migas for breakfast with Boyfriend on Sunday and then two hours later I had second breakfast with LSU Friend that consisted of chips, guacamole, and a Bloody Mary
I went to Target with three things on my list: pool toys, candy, and face paint
I shot gun a beer completely sober in my own home just because Boyfriend said I couldn’t do it
I gave my dog a pig’s ear so he would be content while I played Beer Pong on my original 1947 hardwood floors
I went to a 4th of July BBQ with people whose average age was probably 28 only to spend 40 minutes in the pool singing along to the Disney songs playing from a fellow BBQer’s iPod with all the other people who were there.
…and I have proof…

WalMart and A Herd of Great Danes...

Long time readers will know that every now and then I write a blog post that is just a blog post. This is one of those. So, those that are here looking for laugh out loud, hilarious, embarrassing stories please check out this post or this post.

This past weekend I had Saturday Date Night with LSU Friend at the Draft House to view Bad Teacher and down some queso and pizza. The movie was funny, but not even Justin Timberlake not living up to my expectations as a nerdy substitute teacher can pull down Bad Ass Queso from the Draft House. After our intimate dinner and a movie, LSU Friend dragged me to WalMart across the street so she could stock up on snacks (does anyone else always type “snakes” instead of snacks? No? just me…) for her buddies birthday party the next day.

Weird.

This WalMart is weird. It’s a Super WalMart, but isn’t smaller than any other regular WalMart I’ve ever been in. This means that you have the large food area, but then the rest of the store is smooched together with no rhyme or reason at all.

Examples…
There was a random display of scented wax for making candles right next to the bathing suit cover ups and the Nursing Scrubs.
There was a large selection of Lemonade and other Crystal Light knock offs in the sewing aisle.
They had Big Business for sale on Blue Ray for 5$, but not on regular DVD. (Okay this isn’t an example of this particular store laid out in an odd way, but this just made me mad so I wanted to include it somewhere.)

Also, the rear wall of this WalMart (you know where the soda and dog food are stacked) wasn’t a real wall. It was one of those fake walls you see at Cosco or Sam Club. Like, you could look through the wall and see a whole other store back there with more food and racks of cheap tee shirts. I mean I understand needing a stock room, but that stock area was the size of this too small WalMart. Why have all that extra room? And why have it open to the masses shopping on the store side of the dog food wall? It kinda felt like Narnia might have been on the other side, so I wanted to sneak over, but then I remembered I was at WalMart and Narnia would probably have a door at Target before WalMart.

Oh and there was an awesome bike selling cheese in the deli!

But, alas… there was no chain.

Awesome find! Trick beer pong balls! But alas… the balls lie and bounce no higher than regular ping pong balls.


On Sunday, George Michael and I headed to a local dog park for an Austin Great Dane Meet Up. George Michael was a little over whelmed by all the large dogs and preferred to play with the non-Dane puppies in the park. However, I was able to trick him into being social with his own kind for a few minutes to get a few photos. It was so cool to see what I can only describe as a herd of Great Danes. They are so big! They are so pretty! They are so awkward! They are so not active! For the most part they stood around in small groups, just like the humans stood around in small groups. We, the humans, talked about how long we’ve had our Danes, where we got them, and funny stories about them. I’m sure they stood around chatting about favorite treats, those fucking pesky squirrels, and how wonderful a nap would feel right then.

I Need You Help! Oh, and Boyfriend's New Foot Wear...

Okay, blog readers, I’ve done a lot for you in the past. In the past year, well almost year, I’ve slaved over my TV set recapping series just to be seriously pissed off when people like Gretchen win Project Runway, I’ve embarrassed most of my friends (and I don’t have that many to start with), and I’ve shamed myself countless times by telling and retelling way too many awkward stories about my life. I’ve done this all for you readers.

So, I’m asking for something in return. I need advice.

My sister, over at www.froggyandthemouse.com is on this HUGE blog kick. She just got her own domain, she upped her blogging skills by tackling wordpress, she got some designer to make her fancy new graphics, she started Tweeting, she has a specific FaceBook page just for her blog, she blogs like every day… Can we all just take a moment and bask in my sister’s awesomeness…

Okay no more basking, back to doing.

I by no means and am trying to be my sister, but Sister has this goal of us both going to the BlogHer 2012 Conference and to do this, I would much rather have a sponsor (or multiple sponsors) to pay for a big chunk of the expense. Therefore I need to up my blog awesomeness and get some more exposure.

Being a part of BlogHer is really cool. I applied and did a lot of work like five months ago just to be put on a waiting list. Now, you can find me on their website www.blogher.com and that ad there ->

Yeah, if you click that I get paid… heck yeah!

My big issue with marketing my blog is I feel like it doesn’t fall into a nice, neat category for readers. Meaning I can’t market to fashion sites, because my blog is not a fashion blog. It’s not an entertainment blog nor a TV blog. I’m not a mother, military wife, or deaf African American gardener. If anyone can figure out how to explain LemonsLemonsLemons in 5 words or less, please let me know. And just FYI, “Awkward 20 something” seems to be too vague and hasn’t really helped me.

I would also appreciate some feedback about what you like and don’t like about my site. Do you like the title or do you think it’s weird and has nothing to do with what I write about? Do you like my blog’s simplistic style or should I jazz it up a bit? Are the BlogHer ads in a weird spot? Is the font to small? Do I use to many pictures or not enough pictures? Are you on Twitter? Would you follow LemonsLemonsLemons if it was on Twitter? What are you favorite posts ever? Which posts did you not care for? Do you miss the TV recaps? Would you like more red carpet coverage?

I know I’m asking a lot, but I’m very interested in hearing what you guys have to say and how y’all feel. I know many of you don’t comment very often, but please help me out today and leave a quick note.

Oh, and because I don’t expect you to do everything for me, here is a mini post.

Last week, Boyfriend and I drove to San Antonio to hang out with my parents, grandparents, and uncle. 30 minutes before we left Boyfriend came limping into the kitchen where my grandmother and I were playing a card game while waiting for dad to finish the ribs on the grill.

Boyfriend: “Um, do you think your parents have a Band-Aid?

Since Boyfriend refuses to wear shoes whenever he is within 100 feet of a pool, of course he was walking barefoot while cleaning the filter and of course he cut his foot. My mom quickly transformed in Wonder Mom and had his foot bandaged in less than five. One Dora the Explorer later and he was fine. Five minutes after that we were all sitting around the table eating ribs and everything in the world was good once again.

On Monday I came to a bag full of this on my table.

According to Boyfriend ALL this was needed to help him heal properly because his foot had almost fallen off in San Antonio.

Oh, and in case you are wondering what a “finger cot” is, here is a visual.

Yes, Boyfriend has been walking around all week with a tiny condom on his toe and he sees nothing wrong with this.

Please, please leave some comments and help me out. Thanks y’all!

Just Trying To Be A Good Daughter: Why I HATE Dick's Sporting Goods...

I wrote this post last weekend, but since it’s about buying my dad a Father’s Day gift and sometimes he reads this blog I’m waiting until Monday to post. However, I could not wait until Monday to write it, because I don’t want to lose any of my annoyance or vigor in this subject.

I officially hate Dick’s Sporting Goods. I will never go there again.

The thing is, I have all these negative emotions not because some A-hole sales person pissed me off, not because they royally screwed up an online order, not because as I walking in the store they ass raped me and then sold off my first born child. No, I hate them simply because they suck.

…

Correction The Dick’s Sporting Goods at the Hill Country Galleria in Bee Caves, Texas sucks.

This store has got to be the crappiest sports store I’ve ever stepped into. Which really disappointed me because A: The only other Dick’s I’ve ever been in was the one in San Antonio at the Rim and that store is freaking AWESOME and B: I really needed to get my dad a father’s day gift that day, since I didn’t have the dog with me and could therefor go shopping without my dog passing out due to heat exhaustion in my car. The San Antonio store is like two stories and has “stuff” for like every sport you could dream about participating in and well, I didn’t spend a lot of time looking like crazy in depth, but it seemed really fabulous. Oh, AND (just to add some icing) it’s not like I was walking into Dick’s with one random extremely specific piece of sporting equipment I wanted to buy. In fact I had a list of multiple ideas of things I could get my father – none being very specific – and I was still disappointed.

Item #1: Texas A&M athletic shorts.

My Dad likes to lounge around the house in workout/athletic shorts. I just happen to be an expert on these since Boyfriend owns approximately 43 pairs of this specific type of shorts therefor making me an expert in buying them. I know to look for a good drawstring and deep pockets and logos or prints sewn into the shorts instead of just stamped on. I got this. (Okay, so I know what you’re thinking, this is maybe sorta kinda a specific thing and I said in the above paragraph that I wasn’t looking for specific things, but really in Austin, TX looking for university wear of ANY school in Texas isn’t weird. We don’t have a professional team in my city, so collegiate wear is EVERYWHERE.)

First of all, the Support Your Team sections was dismally small. Like, I’ve seen dorm rooms bigger than this area. I kept turning the corner thinking that there had to be more of a selection on the other side, but the other side was full of those Nike running shorts that only serious runners (you know the ones with the tiny little hats and bottled water belts) and sorority girls wears. Which by the way, before you start thinking “BS Lemon Lady I’ve seen you sport those" I wear the $7.99 knockoffs from Academy. Thank you very much.) Seriously they could have renamed Dick’s and made it “Sorority Girl and Serious Runners with Small Hat and Water Bottle Belts Sporting Goods” but I get it. Nothing runs of the tongue better than Dick’s.

(coughthatswhatshesaidcough)

Back to the Support Your Team section… I get that I live in a city that at times feels like it’s been painted in Burn Orange. I get this. I understand this. In fact, I fully support this as I went to that school myself. (Actually if you want to get technical my Dad fully supports this since he paid for my education, but that’s kinda a sore subject around my house.) So, I expected to find more Longhorns stamped on things than anything maroon and white, but when I say that there was literally two different A&M Tee Shirts and that was it for anything pro Aggies I’m being completely honest. I mean come on Dick’s A&M is only 120 miles away and is the second largest school in the State of Texas… where is your love and support? I think I should also let y’all know that there really wasn’t that much UT clothing either. What was taking up 65% of the dorm room sized area? Texas Ranger crap. And you know that if they had sucked last year the way they have always sucked there would have only been like three jerseys and a lone baseball hat. It was just an extremely disappointing section of an extremely disappointing store.

Item #2: Fun, Random Golf Accessories.

When in doubt, go to the golf area. I have no idea what any of that crap is but it always seems exciting to Boyfriend who golfs and Dad golfs so… yeah Dad’s getting some golf… stuff. Except there is no random golf crap area. What??? Where are all the golf gloves, golf towels, golf rangefinders, golf ball cleaners, golf watches…??? Where are these things??? Let me tell you, they are not at the Dick’s in Bee Caves, so don’t look there. I mean I could either buy him a box of balls (with the store I’m at somewhere there is a Dick in the Box joke, I just can’t get there) or like a golf tee. That’s it.

No thank you Dick’s. I’m not that desperate and I love my father more.

Item #3: Fun Pool Toys.

My dad turns into an eight year old when around water. Pool, beach, river, whatever he doesn’t discriminate. Last year my parents built a pool in their backyard and my father is in Heaven. (To be honest I’m in Heaven, too, when I’m lucky enough to get to spend a weekend there.) So, I thought some fun pool toys would make a great gift. Rafts! Floaties! Random sinking things! Oh, except Dick’s had nothing. Not a noodle. Not a flipper. Nothing. They did have $50 goggles and underwater weights. Because nothing says Happy Father’s Day like overpriced, lime green, protective eye wear and a really heavy spongy weight that might as well scream, “You need to lose a few pounds!”. Fail Dick’s. You fail.

Item #4: Golf Shirt.

Okay, I know, a golf shirt is not exciting at all and honestly this was not on my list when I was all bright eyed and bushy tailed 20 minutes ago when I entered the soul sucking store that is Dick’s. But, I figured I might as well take a look. Actually, at this point I was just wondering around with a UBBER confused look on my face and I needed to focus on something. GOLF WEAR! All hope is not lost! I can actually get a gift out of this expedition.

I pulled myself together and walked to men’s golf clothing. Oh look a nice shirt - $78. Oh look another nice shirt - $69.99. Oh loo - $112!!! (I kid you not, I saw a normal looking red and blue golf shirt for $112.) I feel kinda bad writing this, because I don’t want y’all to think I don’t love my father, because I do. I would spend thousands on this man if I could afford it. My new job is awesome, but I’m not making quite as much as I was and I’m trying really hard (sometimes unsuccessfully) to live on a budget. My biggest problem with these prices are not that they are expensive. I get it that Nike is expensive. I get it that golf is just an expensive sport all around. What I don’t understand is mother F-ing Dick’s!!!

…wait for it…

IT IS THE FUCKING THURSDAY BEFORE FUCKING FATHER’S DAY!!! WHERE ARE THE GOD DAMN SALES DICK’S!!! ISN’T THIS YOUR BIGGEST WEEKEND OF YOUR WHOLE FUCKING YEAR!!! … FUCK!!!




Okay, I feel better now. This post is exactly the reason why I need to start going back to yoga. Well, this post and my love for all things that start with Mexican and end with Food. Hopefully my father likes his Father’s Day gift that I just ended up ordering online while my dog napped at my feet.

(Sorry for all the cursing, Dad. But I did it all for you…)

Presidential Elections, The Olympics, and World Cup...

Boyfriend came home Monday night to find me and the dog laying on the couch, half asleep, and drooling… the dog, not me. He then quickly made my day by saying, “Hey are you watching the debate?”

Me: (jumping up) “The debate? What debate?”
Boyfriend: “The Republican debate. On CNN…”
Me: “I had no idea! How did I miss this?”

Somewhere between all the news on Wiennergate, Asshole Arnold, and oh yeah Bin Laden being killed my news websites had completely let me down. I had no idea Presidential Debates were already starting.

Here’s the thing… I love all things that deal with electing the President of The United States of America. I love all the bullshitting, name calling, question diverting candidates equally. I love the political cartoons and commercials. I REALLY love the debates! Really I do. Yes, of course there is usually only one I could ever actually vote for, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love all the candidates equally. You know just like a mother, I could never have a favorite. I mean how do you pick a favorite bullshitting sweater from your other favorite bullshitting sweaters? I can’t.

The Presidential Election is just like the Olympics and World Cup (two other events that happen every four years THAT I LOVE).

You’ve got your “sure things”
Olympics: Michael Phelps, Canadian skiers, and ridiculous Ice Dancer costumes
World Cup: Spain, numerous red cards, and underperforming Africa
Presidential Election: Obama, Romney, and Jon Stewart

You’ve got your “wild cards”
Olympics: Underage Chinese gymnasts (could also be a “sure thing” depending how you look at it), Curling getting such a cult following, and any Hockey team not from USA, Canada, or Russia
World Cup: Team USA, any other team that isn’t one of the 7 that has actually won in the past, and Women’s World Cup
Presidential Election: Minorities, Women, and well… Ron Paul

You’ve got your “must see TV”
Olympics: Opening Ceremonies, women’s gymnastics, and giant 300lb men bawling after they won the gold in Weightlifting
World Cup: USA vs. England, the legs… and abs when they take off their shirts in celebration, and the final game
Presidential Election: The debates, the loser calling the winner and congratulating them, and all the SNL skits leading up to the big day

You’ve got your “WFT moments?”
Olympics: Tonya Harding, Shaun White’s hair, and powerwalking
World Cup: England pretty much just stepping aside and letting USA score on them, Mexico ALWAYS SUCKING, and Zidane head butting
Presidential Election: Sarah Palin anytime all the time, Perot’s TV shows, and George Bush “winning”

It’s like Monday night was the start of it all. The opening ceremonies. The first blow to the vuvusela. All the candidates we out in their best suits, with their blue or red ties, and flag pins. (Well all except Michelle Bachmann who looked like a slutty priest in her black suit with low cut white blouse) It was like the first day of school. They all had just gotten haircuts and Botox and probably new coke addictions. They were nervous and excited. All were quick to talk bad about the past (Obama and even Bush at times) but had so many uplifting hopes and dreams for the future. Non really wanted to alienate themselves from their neighbors to the right and left in case they need their endorsement later, just like teenage girls trying to figure out who their mean girl minions would be as soon as they established themselves as Queen Bee.

Oh, and then there was Ron Paul who just looked horribly uncomfortable during the whole thing. You know all night he was thinking, “FAIR TAX!!! Damn all of you the answer is FAIR TAX!!! And how can you not pick between Elvis and Johnny Cash??? The answers are FAIR TAX and CASH all the way!!!”

Chelsea Handler, Being Late, and Another "This Is My Life" Moment...

A note before the real blog post… I don’t hang out with LSU Friend every day of the week. In fact sometimes there are whole weeks we never see each other and the only communication I have with her is a random text that says, “SAIL”. However, last week it was kinda like we were dating. I mean I saw her ALL THE TIME! Last Sunday we got drunk together over sweet potato fries, a bottle of wine, and a co-workers birthday. Oh, and it wasn’t a “dancing on the table” drunk. We got crazy emotional drunk… Can my life get any more awkward? Turns out it can. All I have to do is start downing moderately priced Cabernets and, oh… then ask my dear friend to tell me about her dad dying. Because who doesn’t like getting sloppy drunk and crying in public restaurants???

Anyway, so that was last Sunday. I saw her again on Tuesday when I was craving Thai food and didn’t want to wait for Boyfriend to get home before stuffing my face in some Tom Yum. I then saw her again the next day, Wednesday, for Blues On The Green. I then saw her the next day, Thursday, for kickball. I’m not telling you this because I don’t like hanging out with my friend. I love LSU Friend, and I’m crazy grateful to even have her as a friend since I don’t that than many to begin with. I just don’t want y’all thinking that my blog has become Lemon Lady and LSU Friend’s Crazy Adventures (oh and there’s a little Boyfriend thrown in there just for kicks). Because, to be honest with you guys, that just might be the name of our reality show we will be pitching to the Travel Channel real soon.

All that being said, this post is about LSU Friend and me.

About a week ago, I was taking a bath with one of my awesome bath bombs from LUSH when Boyfriend came in and surprised me with two tickets to go see Chelsea Handler on Sunday (yesterday). Reason number 4,284,119 why I totally adore him. Reason number 4,284,120 why I love Boyfriend, he told me he really didn’t want to go (because what straight guy would) and I should take a friend.

This awesome gift from Boyfriend is what led me to hanging out again with LSU Friend last night. She picked up at 5:20 and we headed to 2nd Kitchen for cocktails and food before the big show. http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifThree drinks, 2 hours, and some majorly amazing carbs later I looked down at my phone and saw that it was already 7:00. I knew finding a place to park would take a few minutes because of the last time we went to the Bass Concert Hall. That was a few months ago when LSU friend, Cupcake, and I saw West Side Story. When we finally pulled into a parking spot in the garage just down the street from the Bass it was 7:25 and the play started at 7:30. We raced as fast as we could in our heals to walk in the door just as they were flashing the lights for everyone to stop over paying for wine in the lobby and find their seats. We then had to hike up the SIX FLIGHTS OF STAIRS to the very top of the highest balcony because we bought the cheapest seats we could find. Just as we sat down the show started and for the opening act my mind jumped back and forth between, “OMG I think I’m going to have a heart attack – I should totally start doing my cardio” to “Wait, are they dance fighting? This is gayest thing I’ve ever seen… ever!”

Anyway… My point is, it’s 7:00 and we are so going to be late.

Me: “LSU Friend, you need to chug your wine. We’ve got to go!”
LSU Friend: “Dude, Lemon Lady, I’m not going to chug my glass of 10 dollar wine.”
Me: “Look, LSU Friend, I’m going to need you to woman up and throw that glass back. We need to get going.”
LSU Friend: (drinking as much as she can) “Ahg… Okay, lets head out.”

We successfully made it into the car without LSU Friend getting run over by a bus, and headed up Congress where we got stuck at every single red light!

LSU Friend: (pointing to things outside the car and looking around) “Look, why do you think she’s wearing scrubs?”
Me: “I don’t know. GREEN! GO!”
LSU Friend: “Do you think that guy is homeless or just hanging on a bench downtown looking a little… rough?”
Me: (never one not to judge) “Um, I think he’s just a grungy dude…. GREEN LIGHT!”

For those of y’all who don’t live in Austin and who didn’t go to the greatest college of all time, Bass Concert Hall is on the UT campus and right next to the Frank Erwin Center, which is our large concert/sport venue. So, we start getting close to Bass and we start seeing A LOT of people. Too many people to just being going to Chelsea Handler. Too many people, parking way too far out to just be going to just be going to Chelsea Hander. Not only were there a crap load of people, it seemed like… well… and interesting mix of folks. Like there was a woman who had to have been at least 45 in pleather pants, chunky platforms, and a sequined tank top with not bra. Then we stopped at a light behind a pickup with three guys in the bed on the truck. One of the guys wore dreadlocks (which is SO not weird in my town) but they were arranged in the most beautiful updo I had ever seen on a dude. I mean they were woven into one of those ballerina like buns that I can never seem to perfect and he was wearing this nice scarf around his head. Beautiful…

At this point I know we are going to be late. I know we are going to be “those girls” who arrive in the middle of the opening act and smelling like wine and liquor. But, LSU Friend and I were now super curious as to who this um… eclectic group of people were going to see at the Erwin Center. So, being my mother’s child and being egged on by LSU Friend, I roll down the window, plop my head out, and start waving at the people on the side walk.

Me: (waving my arms wildly): “Hey! Hey! Hey you people!!!”
Random Dude: (looking at me and point back at himself): “Me?”
Me: “Yeah, you’ll do. Yes, you!”
Random Dude: “What?”
Me: “Why are you here?”
Random Dude: “What?”
Me: “WHY ARE YOU HERE? WHAT IS GOING ON?”
Random Dude: “Rush!”

That’s right readers… I was going to be late to Chelsea Handler because of the dudes that sing YYZ.

Okay and just for the record, I understand how bitchy this makes me sound. I understand how “that girl” this makes me sound. I DON’T CARE! I’m going to be late because of a Canadian Rock band that was formed in 60s! I’m going to be late because of a band had a Synthesizer Period in the 80s! I’m going to be late because of Mother F-ing Rush???

Oh, heck no!

I’m pretty sure if I wasn’t in a dress I would have gotten out of LSU Friend’s car and directed traffic myself to get us into the parking garage faster. Once we parked, I was out of her Accord and powerwalking to the concert hall as fast as I could. All while LSU Friend is moaning and whining about her legs being sore from some workout video she did on Friday.

Me: (pausing in the middle of the side walk): “Suck it up friend! We are going to be late!”
LSU Friend: “Wait, what?”
Me: “Late!”
LSU Friend: “What are you talking about? It doesn’t start until 8, nerd.”
Me: “7:30! It starts at 7:30, which was like 4 minutes ago.”
LSU Friend: “I’m pretty sure it starts at 8…”
Me: (pulling out the tickets) “It starts at seven thri… oh wait… okay you might be right.”
LSU Friend: “Is this why you made me chug a whole glass of red wine and almost mow down poor innocent rednecks and their mullets in front of the Erwin center?”
Me: “Um… maybe. I mean I would have sworn it started at 7:30.”

And then, instead of putting the tickets back in my purse, pausing to catch my breath, and calming walking to the theatre, I dropped the tickets (which were really just printed from the computer) and they started to blow away. FML

LSU Friend: “Holy crap! Get the tickets.”
Me: (running and trying to stomp on them) “They keep moving! Help! Help!”
LSU Friend: “Quick! Quick!”
Me: “Why do they hate me? Come back tickets! Come back!”

So please just close your eyes and picture this. Two women in their late 20s running down the street screaming for pieces of paper to “not hate them” and “come back to your home, why do you hate your home”. And here’s the thing, sometimes people drop things, and I’m sure I’m not the only person that has ever dropped important papers to have them start blowing away, but it’s just another one of those things that would happen to me. Like every other group of girls that attended that show were all perfectly poised, had on perfect outfits and perfect heals, and were all standing outside the concert hall talking about their perfect lives… and then there is us, LSU Friend and me running wildly down the street chasing our hopes and dreams of seeing Chelsea Hander, hair going everywhere, already sweaty from power walking from the car… I mean the whole scenario just sums up my life.

But the show was AWESOME!

And now some fun videos and photos

In case you didn’t get the “SAIL” joke from earlier...

And here’s some Rush for your lovely Monday…

LSU Friend and I before the ticket chasing…

Oh and last night, after the show, Boyfriend and I dressed up the dog in Boyfriend’s company’s sweatshirt. Isn’t he adorable?

Time, Kickball, and George Michael...

Do you ever look back and wonder where the time goes?

Okay, trust me. I’m not trying to get all sentimental on y’all or anything, but sometimes I have to wonder.

10 years ago I moved to Germany
7 years ago I graduated High School
5 years ago I started dating Boyfriend
3 years ago nephew #1 (The Mouse) came into this world
2 years ago Boyfriend and I officially moved in together
3 months ago we picked up our 17lb Great Dane who now weights at least 65lbs
3 months ago my second adorable nephew (The Froggy) was born
1.5 months ago I start my new, amazing, awesome, fabulous job.

Oh, and as of today I’m a park of BlogHer! In case you haven’t noticed the changes…

Yesterday, Boyfriend and I played our first kickball game of the season. LSU Friend introduced me to her buddy Jen who is captain of the WAKA team “Power Bottoms” (don’t ask) and invited Boyfriend and myself to play. My kickball experience includes the following…

Recess and “Walk and Talk” kickball lover and player at Dare Elementary School 1994 - 1995
Boyfriend’s family annual Easter and Thanksgiving kickball game 2006 – Now

…

So, when I was asked if I wanted to share my ball kicking skills, of course I was all, “Heck yeah!”

Then, to my complete surprise, Boyfriend said he wanted to play as well.

We made it to our first game on time (amazingly), picked up our bright green tee-shirts, and poured our first beers. And, now you understand why I was super excited to play kickball.
1. I get a tee-shirt
2. Beer… and a lot of it

And because I seem to really like lists today, Here is what happened during the game...

Boyfriend made an out.
I kicked a base run.
Boyfriend played in flip flops while half the team was in cleats.
I drank a lot of beer and got bit my mosquitos.
We didn’t win
We didn’t lose
We tied

Go Power Bottoms!!!

Oh, and because I can’t stand not posting cute photos of George Michael.

Connection Between Tacos and Holiday Decor...

Last night LSU Friend, Boyfriend, and I went to eat Thai Food because I’ve been craving it for a good four days.

After I finished my Tom Yum and after we split the check, Boyfriend blew my mind with this piece of wisdom…

“If you girls (referring to LSU Friend and myself) eat less Taco Cabana you would have more wreaths and holiday decorations.”

…

I can’t make up the random things that come out of this man’s mouth.

If LSU Friend and I were to stop stuffing our faces full of reasonably priced Mexican food and watered down frozen margaritas we would be better holiday decorators just like our mothers.

This whole conversation started with baby birds.

Evidently LSU Friend’s mom has a deep love and passion for holiday decorating, as does my mother. LSU Friend’s mom hangs holiday wreaths on all four of her home’s outer doors. My mother hangs a giant wreath on the front door and then a smaller one on the kitchen pantry door. Once when LSU Friend still lived with her parents, birds built a nest in one of her mother’s wreaths and because birds are nasty, icky creatures after the baby birds hatched and flew away the wreath was so gross from the bird dropping she had to throw it out. Because of this (and I’m sure her deep passion for Target sundresses and alcohol) LSU Friend has no wreaths to hang on her front door.

I, myself, own one wreath that I hang for Christmas. Other than that my holiday decorations include my tiny, fake, Charlie Brown Christmas tree I got on sale at Tuesday Morning one day in July like six years go, a Dallas Cowboys nut crackers that is really Boyfriend’s not mine, some extremely awkward to hang anywhere garland of glass balls, and two ornaments for my tree (a pickle and a dinosaur). I own absolutely no holiday décor that is not for Christmas. I have no wooden eggs for my table on Easter. I have no rubber bats for Halloween or wicker bunnies for the spring. This is what my sister’s mantle looks like on Christmas.

This is what my mother’s dining room chandelier looks like on Christmas.

This is my tree.

So here’s the thing… I get I don’t have any holiday nesting skills or even desires. But, I also don’t understand how my love for all edible things made by Mexicans has anything to do with my lack of a Martha Stewart gene. I guess I just have to file this one under, “Reasons why after 5 years of being together I’m still never bored with Boyfirend”.

Coincidence Or More... You Be The Judge

This past weekend two things happened.

One: Boyfriend and I saw The Hangover 2.

Two: Boyfriend had a “OMG is the world ending because what I’m looking at right now is absoFREAKINGlutely blowing my mind” experience.

Let me explain.

On Saturday, after I got my haircut and after Boyfriend played a round of golf, we headed to the movie theater to see The Hangover 2. As we are walking into the theater to buy tickets I notice the guy in fount of us at the box office is sporting some really cool looking Nikes. Like this…

I then casual say to Boyfriend, “Hey, Boyfriend. Aren’t his shoes cool? I like them.”
Boyfriend: “Yeah, cool, whatever. Hey you have to pay I forgot my wallet.”

This is literally the reaction he gives me. Yes, Lemon Lady those are not the ugliest shoes in the world, but can we focus on more important facts of life, like the fact that I forgot my wallet and you will have to pay for my ticket and my half of our fried pickles order. (Our movie theater, Alamo Draft House, is just that awesome to have fried pickles.)

Then, two hours pass when we are in theater 2 laughing at many shenanigans happening on the big screen. Of course during these two hours I drink two giant glasses of ice tea, so when the movie is over and the credits have finished rolling (because when you watch either The Hangover or The Hangover 2 you have to watch the credits because that’s when they show all the really funny photos of what actually happened the during the night they can’t remember) I practically hurdle people to get to the bathroom first.

Good thing about my movie theater: Fried pickles
Bad thing about my movie theater: only 3 stalls in the bathroom – I mean what’s up with that? This isn’t communist China Draft House! Get some more pee pots. K, thanks.

Anyway, I relieve myself and then walk out to meet Boyfriend. He is standing just outside the box office in the blazing Texas summer heat. As soon as I reach him he practically pounces on me…

Boyfriend: “Look behind you!”
Me: (looking but not seeing anything other than people trying to leave the theater and we’re kinda standing right in their way because Boyfriend refuses to move aside.) “What? What are you looking at?”
Boyfriend: “Down there.”
Me: “Where?”
Boyfriend: “No, over there” (pointing to the front of the rather long line to buy tickets for the night time movies)
Me: “What are you pointing at, yeah the line is a lot longer now, but it’s Saturday night.”
Boyfriend: “No, look at his shoes.”
Me: (Finally noticing what Boyfriend is so excited about) “Oh, hey. Those are those same cool Nikes. So did you like the movie? I thought it was funny.”

At this point Boyfriend is staring at me like I have fungus growing on my face, and I start to wonder if I said something or did something wrong. Was I secretly supposed to know that those shoes are his favorite things in the world and I didn’t buy them for him? Are those the Nikes his grandmother was buried in and I’m not paying them the respect they deserve? Did he secretly design those shoes himself and Nike broke into our home one night real late and stole the design and now every time we see those shoes we are need to stop and curse those Nike A-holes out loud?

Me: “I don’t get it. What?
Boyfriend: “Those are the same shoes you said you liked when we went into the movie and there they are again in the exact same place in line when we come out of the movie.”

So, Time Out…Are y’all following what he is saying here? Before the movie we stood behind some dude in the line for tickets with cool shoes on and now there is another random dude in the roughly the same place in line with the same shoes on. Okay, Time In…

Me: “Okay.”
Boyfriend: “Are you not seeing the awesomeness of this? Those are shoes, we’ve never seen before in our lives and now they appear before us twice in one day in THE EXACT SAME PLACE!”
Me: “But on different people…”
Boyfriend: “I KNOW!!! Different people, but the same shoes!”
Me: “I don’t get it. I mean I get it. I get that those are the same shoes standing in the line being worn by different people, but it’s really not that big of a deal.”
Boyfriend: “NOT A BIG DEAL!!! It’s a huge deal! This is the cosmic universe trying to tell us something.”
Me: “Um, no. This is what normal, non-crazy people call a coincidence.”
Boyfriend: “No this is bigger than a coincidence. This is something more.”
Me: (Trying desperately to change the subject to something that doesn’t make me want to commit my boyfriend to a mental hospital) “Did you like the movie?”
Boyfriend: “The movie? What? No, we are talking about the shoe Gods right now and what they are trying to tell us.”

Yes, world, my boyfriend would rather talk about a pair of grey and green Nike tennis shoes instead of a movie that includes the following…
1. Monkeys who like oral sex
2. Drinking Fanta from a bag
3. Having sex with a she-male Thai hooker
4. Bradley Cooper’s gorgeous baby blues
5. Why a kid who just started college would already have a college ring
6. Monks doing shots
7. The mysteries that live in Zach Galifianakis’ beard
8. The fact that anytime Ed Helms sings he gets like 15% cuter but even if he spent the whole movie singing he would not be good looking enough to land a chick as hot as his fiancé
9. The awkward, awkward toasting scene
10. A surprise wedding singer that would have been super cool if I just hadn’t seen Bridesmaids

Boyfriend: “You just don’t understand”
Me: (At this point all I can think about is that scene in Meet The Fockers where Ben Stiller is arguing with the airlines on phone because they sent him the wrong bag.) “Seriously Boyfriend? Do you not think that the people over at Nike thought to themselves that although they just produced a very nice looking shoe that they might actually want to make a profit off this shoes so they might want to produce MORE THAN ONE PAIR! Like they all sat around a big important looking conference table and finally Mr. Smarty Pants in the corner was like, “Nike dudes. We should totally have our little starving China kids make like a billion pairs of this awesome show so we’ll make like a billion dollars and never have to work again.” Do you get this? That there are THOUSANDS of these shoes being produced and sold all over the world, even in Austin, Texas.”
Boyfriend: “All I’m saying is that I’ve never seen those shoes before and then I see them again IN THE EXACT SAME PLACE AS BEFORE! It’s a little freaky.”
Me: “No. you know what would be freaky? It would be freaky if the shoes were just sitting there and not being worn by some guy. It would have been freaky if they turned on their own and stared at you with eyes that popped up from the tongue of the shoe. It would be freaky if they hurdled themselves at you and tried to strangle you in their laces. Just being worn by someone else at a very popular movie theater on a Saturday night IS NOT FREAKY!”
Boyfriend: “You don’t understand me at all…”

I kid you not, 24 hours later we were still arguing about this.

Questions, Answers, and Saved By The Bell...

And now Lemon Lady presents a Q&A…

Question – WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN???
Answer – Um, I wish I could say I’ve been climbing Mount Kilimanjaro or curing cancer, but in all reality I’ve been at home mostly.

Question – Then why haven’t you been blogging embarrassing stories and whatnot?
Answer – Well, mostly because I changed jobs and I am no longer doing the job of a retarded hamster, so I don’t have 4 free hours a day to randomly write about giving my doctor a bloody or breaking my foot at a water park.

Question – “Retarded Hamster”?
Answer – That’s not a question, but I thought that would make my sister laugh. You see there is this whole funny story about me learning to read and hamsters and well… it’s funny, but it’s hard writing funny and embarrassing stories from when I was 5.

Question – So where are you writing now?
Answer – In the comfort of my own home, which if I can be honest, is a little weird. I’m used it leaning back in my big important chair with my feet propped up on my computer under the desk in my fancy office with the maroon accent wall and spending hours penning my blog master pieces. Instead last night and tonight I’m at my tiny kitchen table typing on my tiny laptop that is made for midget (excuse me “little people”) hands meaning I have to stop every few words and make sure I type “give” instead of “hubr” because the keys are so close together. I also can’t keep my head down and focused because my dog is jumping on and off the couch – something he is ubber proud of considering he just learned how to do this last Sunday.

Question – Speaking of the dog, how is the dog?
Answer – He is AMAZING. Seriously, Boyfriend and I wonder how we got so lucky. Which I know is something creepy pageant mothers say on Toddlers and Tiaras, but really y’all… our dog is so freaking cool.

Question – You were on like a month and a half hiatus and all you can say is, “I got a new job”?
Answer – Well, I got a new job, I quit my old job, I went to Tom Bean, TX to spend Easter and the week after with Boyfriend’s Sister and Mom, my parents came in town one weekend… Yes, I’ve been neglecting my blog. Make me feel bad about it why don’t ya.

Question – Sorry. Don’t get all defensive. Have you been writing? Are you going back to the 3-4 posts a week? What TV shows are you going to watch this summer, write five recaps and then stop mid-season because you suck?
Answer – Yes, I have been writing. I haven’t been blogging, but I do have those Brian Griffin novel ideas, that at some point I would like to put to paper. I don’t know exactly what will be my blog writing schedule from not on. Glee is over for the summer, so my Tuesdays are free, but I’m starting Kick Ball next month so Thursday posts are probably not going to happen. My guess is it will be just as sporadic as ever. I don’t know if I will recap anything any time soon. I thought about doing a Real Housewives recap, but the folks over at Vulture do such a good job that I’m pretty sure I would just steal all their jokes until about half way through the season when I’m so over hearing about Ramona’s Pinot Grigio habit and my eyes hurt from the 5 tons of turquoise jewelry LuAnn wears to every party that I would just cut and paste their recaps onto my blog. Then six months later I would blame the poor public education system in this country that didn’t properly teach me plagiarism.

Question – You look like you really want to say some something, what’s up?
Answer- Okay so, today when I was driving to work Mark Paul Gosselaar (AKA Zack Morris) was on the radio promoting his new TNT show Franklin & Bash. After talking for a few minutes and playing a round of Family Feud or something, they finally got down to the good stuff… Saved By The Bell. Mark Paul told me that his favorite Saved By The Bell episode was the one with Becky the duck. You know, the one where they discover oil under the Bayside football field and everyone thinks they’re going to be the richest school ever and not have to do homework and whatnot, but then there is an oil spill and oil gets into the pond where Zack’s biology class had just let their pet ducks and fish and turtles and newts go. SPOILER ALERT! It didn’t go well for the animals and they all died. So then, when the big oil company executive (who of course is wearing a cowboy belt buckle because aren’t all oil execs from Texas?) comes to the school to pitch his awesome ideas for new computers and books and better facilities, Zack and the gang cock block all the future students at Bayside High by telling Mr. Big Oil Executive that they don’t want a new football stadium or better cafeteria or awesome science lab because you killed Becky the Duck. Bastard! For Becky! And then the episode ends in a paused 6 way high five. Yeah… that was a great episode…

He also said that the one that he hates to this day is not the “I’m so excited, I’m so scared” episode, but the one where they all had to do family research projects and he finds out that he’s like 1/64th Native American so he shows up to class in a giant Indian head dress and deer skin pants and moccasins as “Running Zack” (which might be the dumbest Indian name ever) Mark Paul was talking about how he was so embarrassed and even to this day he won’t go gamble on Reservations because he doesn’t want anyone bringing that episode up in conversation.

Question – Do you feel better now?
Answer- Yes.

Question – Zack or Slater?
Answer – Zach always. In fact I had the Saved By The Bell board game where if you won you got to go on a date to the Max with either Zack or Slater. I always picked Zack.

Question – What are your thoughts on Saved By The Bell The College Years?
Answer – I’m pretty neutral. I mean I don’t love them like the original episodes, but I don’t hate them. They are kinda like the Tori episodes that just randomly happen in the middle of senior year. I’m all, “meh”. I do have a problem with Bob Golic’s character, Michael “Mike” Rogers. He was the ex-football player who was like 35 and living in the dorms with all the freshmen. Even as a twelve year old I knew this wasn’t right. Creep, not right. I know the show needed an older character to replace Belding, but I think a Mr. feeny-like character would have worked better. You know Belding could have followed all the kids to college and been a counselor or something.

Question – It certainly sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into the these answers about Saved By The Bell.
Answer – I blame the questions.

Question – DON’T BLAME THE QUESTIONS!
(insert FRIENDS laugh track here)

Question – Moving on… Do you have any good blog post ideas in mind for future posts?
Answer – Oh, you mean for posts when I’m not answering random questions that I made up? Yes, I’ve got some great ideas involving cupcakes (the food not the person), wild pigs, and Google Maps.

Question – Google Maps? You might be a bigger nerd than I feared?
Answer – Wait, but you’re not real.

Question – You’re typing like I am.
Answer – Fuck.

A Welcome Back to Me and Another Cockroach Story

Last Friday Cupcake graduated from College. For the second time.

Congratulations on your Master Degree in Nursing Cupcake!

While Friday was spend celebrating Cupcake’s big achievement and drinking multiple margarita’s from the fun frozen margarita machine, Saturday was all about dinner and a movie. Cupcake, LSU Friend, and myself decided to meet for a nice dinner then brave the Saturday night movie crowd and go see Bridesmaids. Cupcake had pigged out on some guac earlier that day and I was completely indifferent, so LSU Friend had the honors of picking our restaurant. So, for once in our lives, we weren’t going to head to a local Mexican food place and drown ourselves in queso, but drive over to a local Indian food restaurant that LSU Friend swore up and down was yummy.

So we went.

Thoughts on Indian Food…
1. I’m not all that into Indian food. I don’t hate it, but I also don’t love it. It’s like this… why would anyone eat Indian if they could have Mexican? But, I think that about a lot of genres of food.

2. Cupcake is an EXTREMLY picky eater! My whole life I thought being an “extremely picky eater” just meant that you would not only HATE Norwegian food, but also turn into a huge brat if ever forced to eat it. (Yeah, maybe one day I’ll write about that story Favorite Cousin…) So, I was totally unprepared when I became friends with Cupcake. She’s a “selectatarian”. AKA a really picky eater. She doesn’t really eat meat… unless she wants to. And, then you (or whoever is preparing the meat) HAS TO COOK THE SHIT OUT OF IT. Nothing can be slightly under cooked or she literally can’t choke it down. Once, when I first met her, a few of us girls were cooking and she practically dissected the chicken breast to make sure no red veins or blood was left anywhere and then stood over the chicken while it was being cooked just in case the dead, sautéing chicken just started bleeding in the pan. Then she over cooked it five minutes and deemed it ready to eat. Also, she doesn’t really like “hole in the wall” kinda places. This absolutely makes my heart hurt, because to me there is nothing better than a steaming plate full of enchiladas from some random shack where the wait staff doesn’t speak English. Cupcake doesn’t like not knowing if the beans are vegetarian or not. All in all, I was shocked that Cupcake was even going to venture into the Indian food establishment. (By the way I adore Cupcake and all her little quirks.)

So, the three of us load up into LSU Friend’s car, Leroy, and drive the 3.5 minutes to Bombay Bistro for what the website and menus call, “modern Indian cuisine”.

When we enter Bombay Bistro, it is plainly obvious that is used to be Henry’s Hunan and six months before that it was Ancient Golden Dragon and six months before that China Pearl, but whatever. We took our seats on the wall, so that LSU Friend and I were sitting on a bench with our backs to the wall and Cupcake sat across from us in a normal chair. Next to us, shoved up against the table was a short divider which I guess was there to give us a little privacy from the table next to us. Everything starts out okay. I order my overpriced glass of wine, LSU Friend tells us what she has had there that is good, and Cupcake tells us about what happened at her grad party after we left the night before. Normal going out to eat things…

Me: “New job, new job” wine sip “new job”
LSU Friend: “Job, should I get a new job, job” wine sip “best friend getting married”
Cupcake: “Africa, new job, graduating… Eeck!”

Yes, readers, the nights shenanigans all began with a little “eeck”

The “eeck” was caused by a little cockroach climbing up the divider that hugged our table.

What followed was about ten seconds of absolute silence, wherein I (and I’m sure LSU Friend and Cupcake) had a litter internal dialogue with myself…

To Myself: “Okay. That’s gross. Wait. It’s still climbing. What do we do with it? Should I kill it? What am I going to kill it with? OMG, this is unfortunate.”

LSU Friend to Herself: “Well, shit. I finally get us to a restaurant that isn’t Chuy’s or Z-Tejas and this is what happens? Cupcake is going to freak out.”

Cupcake: “Oh, eeck, okay. This isn’t okay, but I’m going to Africa in a week and a half and I’m going to have to deal with bugs over there. Oh, but… oh, this is icky.”

Then Cupcake, like the awesome badass that she is, plucked our unlit candle off the table, and using the candle cup trapped the baby cockroach in the jar.

Me: “Yay Cupcake!”
LSU Friend: “Great, but , um… now what?”

Now what indeed? Cupcake had successfully trapped the little booger, but the roach is still alive and Cupcake can’t spend our entire diner with her hand holding a candle jar on the wall. So, she slowly slides the jar down the wall divider and secures the jar by leaning the cup with sugar against it, just in case that baby cockroach was part He Man and able to lift the decorative candle holder and escape. Success!

We then spent the next few minutes convincing ourselves that it was one lone cockroach and anywhere else we go is going have an hour and a half wait because it’s graduating weekend, so we might as well stay put and eat our Curry and Puho.

Then Cupcake goes to the bathroom, because she has the world’s tiniest bladder ever, and sees another bug. Here exact words were, “So, I saw our friend’s brother in the bathroom.”

By this time we have decided we should get rid of bug number 1, who is still trapped under the candle jar.

Cupcake: (leaning around the divider where there are two busboys and either a waitress or a manager cleaning off a table) “Excuse me Ma’am?”

Nothing

Cupcake: “Ma’am?”

Nothing

Cupcake: “Excuse me?”

Nothing

Cupcake: “Excuse me Ma’am”

Restaurant Woman: “What?!?! I’ll be with you in a second!”

Cupcake: “oh… okay.”

So now we’ve seen two cockroaches, trapped one, and Cupcake “AKA the nicest person in the world” has been snapped at for wondering, maybe, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask or too much trouble for the wait staff to kindly REMOVE THE COCKROACH from under the candle jar on our table. K, thanks.

Then our food comes out.

Here is where I’m sure most of y’all are all, “Why is Lemon Lady and her friends still sitting in this place and why oh why are they going to eat there?” I can only answer this question by of course blaming Cupcake. I blame Cupcake because she is our friend that gets grossed out by normal things like fat being on chicken and beans cooked oh so yummy in lard. She should have been jumping up from her seat and running out to the car, but instead she was just sitting there. It was like in my mind if Cupcake isn’t freaked out and if Cupcake can handle a few bugs, so can I. Then again, she also ate before we got there.

So the food is on the table and we start eating.

Cupcake: “Eeck!”

Me: (Throwing up in my mouth just a little bit) “Oh God… what?”
LSU Friend: (Spitting food in her napkin) “Oh crap… where?”
Cupcake: (Pointing) “Behind you. On the wall.”

Yup, there was brother number 3. He was crawling up the wall about three feet from my head.

Me: “Gross. It’s going to jump on my head.”

LSU Friend: “Lean on me friend.”

Cupcake: “Sir. SIR! We need help over here!”

Now, y’all tell me. What would you do if you were the owners of a restaurant where a nice group of young ladies kept seeing cockroaches everywhere? Maybe you would apologies. Maybe you could comp their ridiculous eight dollar glasses of cheap gas station wine. Let me tell you what I would not do, SEND MORE FOOD! Yeah, just in case we had forgotten if we had completely lost our appetites due to the infestation of disease carrying bugs the thoughtful management at Bombay Bistro sent over a free dessert. Oh, and it was gross. Like really gross.

Moral of this story, once every few years or so I get a great cockroach story while hanging with LSU Friend.

Oh, and Bridesmaids was really funny.

Bumper Stickers Are To Tattoos As ______ Is To Flying Toaster Octopus?

Yesterday I was walking to my car and I noticed these two bumper stickers stuck to the rear end of an old, white, Saturn in my work’s parking garage.
I actually noticed the one that just says “Twilight” before the other. My first thought was, “Oh is there a 14 year girl working here?” which gave way to, “I didn’t know this was also the parking lot for Hot Topic.” But, it’s the other that I think is truly horrible. “I drive like a Cullen”. Really old, white, Saturn? Why not have a bumper sticker that says, “I drive like a glittery virgin” or maybe “I drive fast so teenage girls think I’m dangerous and I’m creepily over protective of my girlfriend so teenage girl’s dads think I’m dangerous”.

Then I got to thinking about my own car how I have no bumper stickers on Yolanda’s (my car’s name) bumper. See I have this theory that bumper stickers are like tattoos, I’ve always kinda wanted one but I could never commit to something that permanent. Also lots of people have them on their cars but I only like maybe 15% of the ones I see.

So, now I have to wonder if the driver of that old, white, Saturn is this lady.

So let’s dig deeper into this comparison.

Case 1: The Funny Bumper Sticker
I like this. Every time I see this stuck to some Jetta or Civic I smile. This is one of those bumper stickers that I might buy if I was randomly looking at one of those displays of bumper stickers that rotate near the register of some local store if I had just come from happy hour and thus okay with spending 8 dollars on a sticker I know I’m not actually going to stick anywhere. If I was a teenage girl and if all my furniture growing up wasn’t antiques I would stick it to my bedroom’s vanity mirror. It’s funny. So is this guy’s tattoo… I like Harry Potter and I like old school Nintendo and Mario Brothers. Plus the fact that Mario is dressed in the raccoon suit is awesome because if you’re playing Mario 3 you totally want that raccoon suit. But, just like “Republicans Vote for Voldemort” I’m not permanently attaching an Italian dude dressed like a raccoon to my neck… or my car.

Case 2: The Long Worded Bumper Sticker
I get it. Whoever would put this on their car is trying to be funny or maybe ironic, but then again I don’t get it. Because after the first line I’ve stopped reading and I’ve moved on with my life and gone back to watching the street while driving and because it wasn’t funny or mean or sad or just really random I’ve completely forgot about your bumper sticker. So what’s the point?

I about died when I saw this tattoo because unlike the bumper sticker above, I will never forget this tattoo. So many things come to mine when I see this.

One, YOU CAN’T HAVE A BIBLE VERSE AS A TRAMP STAMP!!! I mean I get that I’m not the most religious person out there, but even I know that God and Jesus and Elizabeth Taylor aren’t going to just step aside and let you into Heaven when you are standing outside the pearly gates because you turn around, lift up your Abercrombie shirt, pull your Juicy sweatpants down, and bend over. FAIL.

Two, this is the Bible verse I (and every other little sister) had to read at my sister’s wedding (and ever other sister’s wedding). I happen to be horrible at reading out loud. I always read to fast and skip words or make up words and pronounce other words incorrectly. I hate doing it. So, of course my sister tells me the day before her wedding that I have to stand up in front of all her guests and then read this particular verse. On the day of the wedding I panic midway through and completely lose my place in the passage and skip/make up half the “loves is…” of 1 Corinthians 13.

Three, who actually reads this tattoo in its entirety? If someone comes up to me and wants to show me their tattoo and it turns out to be this, I’d be all, “Love is Patient. Love is kin… oh that’s a cool tattoo I guess…” Your body is not a Kindle. Cut it down in size people. Besides couldn't this girl have saved a whole lot of money, space on her body, and vastly reduces the amount of pain she went through by just getting 1 Corinthians 13 tattooed instead of the whole verse?

Case 3: Being Scary
Here we have a little difference between the bumper sticker and the tattoos. The bumper sticker just announces to the world and other highway travelers that yes, you should be freaked by the presences of my monster truck because yes, I am terrifying. While the tattoos are just that… terrifying.
(I don’t think this one needs more explanations…)

Case 4: Drinking is AWESOME Bumper Stickers
Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE DRINKING. Give me the option between and fresh healthy smoothie and a giant 3000 calorie Margarita and I’ll take that tequila concoction any day. But, drinking and driving… not so awesome. Can you just imagine having this sticker on the back of your car and pulling up at a red light between a car with a MADD bumper sticker and one of those white crosses covered with fake flowers on the side of the road. Wouldn’t you feel like a jack ass?

You know what else isn’t cool. Drinking and tattooing.
Girl readers, have you ever done your make up a little buzzed then gone out and someone took your photo only to past it on Facebook the next day? Then when you look at it and right before you “untag” yourself you have to wonder why you ever thought fake eyelashes were a good idea and who talked you into the bright pink sparkly lipstick? Up that feeling like by 1000 when you drink and tattoo.

Case 5: All Over Bumper Stickers
Just like when I’m stuck in crazy, rush hour traffic I want to be behind this car, if the second coming of the Great Depression happens I want to be stuck behind this guy in the five hour line for apples and bread.

Case 6: Stupid, Dumb, and the WFT Bumper Sticker
Sometimes words aren't needed. What more can I add to a bumper sticker that says "vagina full of centipedes"? Just like what more can I say about this tattoo...

Oh, and this is the only thing I have on my car. I figure because it’s silver and shinny it’s more like jewelry than a tattoo…

Because One West Side Story Post Just Isn't Enough and KILLER CUPCAKE!!!

Yesterday I wrote about my trip to the theatre with LSU Friend and Cupcake to see West Side Story and posted this photo.

It was taken with my old iPhone that has no flash.

This photo was taken with Cupcake’s newer iPhone that has a flash.


As I was writing the post yesterday I texted Cupcake asking her to send me the photo taken on her camera because I knew it turned out better and readers; I only want the best for you. Well, being that Cupcake actually has a life at work being and nurse and finishing grad school and whatnot she didn’t get around to sending it to me until last night. I then get the following text messages from LSU Friend.

(I’m the sane one writing in green.)
Yeah… what???

Oh, and can we go back to the picture for a second. This is the photo LSU Friend is thinks is cute enough to thank me for sending it to her (even though really Cupcake did) by using some weird, 5 year old, Baton Rouge dialect of English. LSU Friend and I are staring at something off to the side and Cupcake, sitting front and center, looks like she is half alien with her evil green eyes and she might just jump out of the picture and devour you whole with her EXTREMELY white teeth. Nom. Nom. Nom.

Apologies and Photos Of Shoes, Bacon Alcohol, and Jorts...

Yeah, yeah, yeah… bad Lemon Lady. Bad blogger. I get it.

Moving on…

My iPhone's Photo Album: Round 2
(see Round 1 HERE)

A few weeks ago Cupcake, LSU Friend and I went to go see West Side Story at UT’s Bass Concert Hall. After chugging the last of our wine from dinner, we raced from the car, ran across three blocks of campus, stopped momentarily at the doors to have our tickets scanned and gawk at a woman who wore an acid washed denim vest with acid washed denim jeans and high top sneakers to the theatre, and then climbed four flights of stairs to our cheap seats up top. Completely out of oxygen (was it scaling the numerous steps or the extreme altitude of being so high up in the audience) and panting, we took our seats just as the curtain was lifted up and the Sharks and Jets started “fighting”.

Can I pause just a moment here to talk about West Side Story in general… I’ll be honest, it wasn’t my favorite. Somehow the act of dancing around and snapping just didn’t do it for me. This coming from a girl who LOVES Starlight Express so much I posted a video of it a few weeks back. I mean I totally believe those British actors on roller skates are trains. I do not, however, believe that sashaying around and executing perfect double turns equals gang fighting in New York. Sorry, but I just don’t buy it. Also, do you think that part of the audition is being able to snap? Like do you think all the actors have to perform a perfect split leap arabesque, sing a solo like… well insert famous Broadway actor here, and then stand in the middle of an empty stage and snap to the lone director in an empty theatre. “What? You can perform fortes all night but can’t snap? Get out of my sight!” Reason 4,528 why I want a new iPhone - better camera with a flash!

The earliest Halloween I can remember my mom dressed my up as Rainbow Bright. I found these shoes at DSW in case I ever want to create and adult version of that look.

And just because I have the coolest, greatest, most awesome dog ever…

This past weekend was all about Blood Marys. It started on Saturday when Boyfriend and I tried out Haddingtons on West 6th. They call themselves an “American Tavern with a British influence”. I could care less what pretentious title they give themselves because they have the mixologist from Fino, Bill Norris. His Bloody was light and smooth and crammed full of flavor. According to our waitress, who was very good, they create their own tomato juice daily. This place defiantly has made my top five Bloody Marys in Austin.

On Sunday I left Boyfriend at home to reseed the back yard and watch the dog, while I headed out with LSU Friend and Lil Blount to continue the Bloody round of Austin. Our first stop was Franks. Housed in the old Starlight building on 4th street the waitress from Haddingtons actually told me the day before that if I was in search of the best Bloody in town I needed to try Franks. Thank you random person I had never met before because OMG Franks Bloody Mary is a true glass of sunshine, rainbows, and designer shoes. I mean look at it. It’s called the Redheaded Stranger and we are strangers no longer. Made with bacon infused Dripping Springs Vodka (in my mind much better than Titos), their own Bloody mix, bacon, cheddar cheese, and comes with a Pearl Beer chaser. Oh, and did I mention that this giant glass of adult Heaven was half off… yeah it was.

Round two on Sunday Bar Chi, a Sushi Bar on Colorado St. It was made with Sake, which is what caught our eyes on the menu outside the restaurant. It was good, don’t get me wrong, but after Franks “infused with Bacon and probably Jesus tears” Bloody… well it was a lot to live up to. But, we sat outside on a nice patio so it was worth the stop. The Bloody Mary was on the small side, but it was also only 4 dollars.

The third Bloody of the day is one of my favorites in Austin. It is the Voodoo Queen from Reds Porch. Made from jalapeño pepper infused vodka and their own in house made mix it is SPICY! Spicy and delicious.

Then I had something called a Southern Peach which was alcohol, alcohol, more alcohol, and a splash of something peach. (Probably peach alcohol) Then I stopped drinking and started dreaming of a nap.

Oh, and while we were there we saw this guy in his AMAZING jorts.