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!

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.

Mumford & Sons and Tim Tebow: A Conversation...

A few months ago Boyfriend and I were watching the Grammy’s and in between wondering about Katy Perry’s angel wings and Cee Lo’s AMAZING red chicken costume, Boyfriend heard Mumford & Sons for the first time.

TV: “But I will hold on to hope… And I won’t let you choke… On the noose around your neck…”

Boyfriend: “Why is Tim Tebow on TV singing?”

Me: “That’s not Tim Tebow that’s the lead singer of Mumford & Sons.”

Boyfriend: “I’m pretty sure you’re wrong. That’s Tim Tebow.”

Me: “I’m pretty sure I’m not. That’s the dude from Mumford and Sons. That’s why he is playing music and not football on the TV at the Grammy’s and not Monday Night Football… But you're right, he does kinda look like Tim Tebow.”

Fast forward to last night

Boyfriend (singing in the shower): “But I will hold on to hope… And I won’t let you choke... On the noose around your neck…”

Me: “You know they sing other songs, right?”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, I YouTubed them all. Go look on the computer.”

And he wasn’t lying. My laptop was sitting open on the bed and YouTube was on the screen showing Mumford & Sons’ songs. So I played one that a friend had recommended on Facebook.

Boyfriend (out of the shower and in the bedroom now): “So you’re just hanging out in here watching Tim Tebow on the computer?”

Computer: “Align my heart, my body, my mind…To face what I’ve done and do my time…”

Me: “No I’m watching the hot, British, guitar playing Tim Tebow. There’s a difference.”

Boyfriend: “You think Tim Tebow is hot?”

Me: “No, again, hot, British, guitar playing Tim Tebow is hot. Religious, virgin, gator Tim Tebow equals not hot.”

Boyfriend: “So because he has a British accent he’s hot?”

Computer: “But it was not your fault but mine… and it was your heart on the line…”

Me: “The British accent ups his hotness by like two points. He gets another three for being in a band and playing the guitar and a bonus point for it being a good band and him being good at the guitar.”

Boyfriend: “So Tim Tebow doesn’t get any points for playing football?”

Me: “Not when he plays for stupid teams like Florida and Denver and especially not for stealing the Heisman from Colt.”

Boyfriend: “Good to know. How many extra points do pool men get?”

Boyfriend's favorite, The Cave

Random Thoughts: Puppies, Pots, and Songs That Heart Didn't Sing But I Thought They Did...

Can it please be 4 weeks from now so I can bring my puppy home, because OMG how freaking adorable is he???

Boyfriend and I bought art supplies on Sunday to paint new homes for Pedro (for who our fictional third child is named after) and Rasputin. Who says Sister is the artistic one in the family?

Boyfriend and I went to Fredericksburg on Saturday night for dinner with some friends and on the way home I had a near perfect radio experience. We were listening to BobFM and we heard Alannah Miles' Black Velvet (am I the only one who thought Heart sung this song?), John Lennon's Imagine, Alanis Morissette's You Oughta Know, and some other amazing song that I can't remember now because I didn't write it down because I had had three beers but I promise it was awesome as well ALL IN A ROW!!! So because I love y'all so much, check out this klassy (yes, with a k) lady...

Rocky: AKA The Dumbest Movie EVER!!!

In my last post I wrote about the yummy cocktails Boyfriend and I drank last Sunday at Second Bar + Kitchen. After indulging in too much gin and fried foods, we stopped at our favorite used music and DVD store, Cheepos, and grabbed some new movies. Somehow, I’m sure it was because of the gin, the movie Rocky made it into my home.

Here’s the thing… I had never seen the movie all the way through to the end, and I’m sure my opinion (my very negative opinion) of this movie is probably based on tiny bits and pieces of Rock I, II, III, IV, and the very little known Rocky 15 “The Italian Stallion is finally put out to pasture” I’ve seen on TNT every now and then for the past 20 years. But, Boyfriend promised me Rocky is a great movie. Heck, it won best picture at the Academy Awards… it can’t be that bad, right?

It is.

Seriously, Rocky is the dumbest movie I’ve ever seen and I own Club Dread and The Jerk. I mean those movies might be dumb, but at least they are funny. I read later on IMDB that when the producers bought the script from Sylvester Stallone they paid less than they originally offered because Stallone won’t sell it unless he could star in it. My question is this… Who in their right minds meets a guy like Stallone and says, “Yeah, lets buy a script from this guy. Let’s buy the script that half the F-ing dialogue in the first half of the F-ing movie is about turtles. And that guy who wrote this giant ode to turtles, let’s have him star in the whole damn thing.” TURTLES!!! Haha, this crazy, too old boxer, who no one can understand likes turtles. How kooky is that? No wonder Boyfriend likes this movie… When we first started dating he had two turtles for pets named Becky and Gobo. They lived in a casserole dish on his bar, until I guess he got sick of them and we let them go in the green belt.

On that note... Have a great weekend.

What The Kids Are Listening To These Days: Mindless Behavior and My Confusion...

A few weeks ago Boyfriend and I went to dinner and we drank a bottle of wine, which means I drank half a bottle of wine. I don’t mean to write that like, “Oh! What’s up losers the other night I totally drank a half a bottle of wine and was like soooo wasted… word!!!” I’m not bragging. If I wanted to brag I would talk about the time Davis Girl and I went to Central Market and drank 3 bottles, had Boyfriend come pick us up only to go back to my house drink one more and spend the rest of the night crying on my old back deck because we just loved each other so much. I could really brag about that night, but that’s not the point of this post.

I had not had anything alcoholic since Baton Rouge, so that half a bottle of wine got me a little tipsy. Nice tipsy, you know. Hyper tipsy, but not crazy annoying “I can’t understand you, you lush” tipsy. Anyway we had a great dinner and came home and started a game of Scrabble. I know you guy want to start judging, but we like Scrabble and tipsy Scrabble is even better. Then it was as if Jesus looked down on us all comfy on the futon, Boyfriend’s legs on mine, me dropping triple word scores all over him, and said, “Yes, I like those people. I will make their night even better because I am Jesus… and I can.”

That’s when I found the FUSE and MTV HITS channel I had no idea we even had access to on our TV.

That night FUSE was running a two hour Britney Spears Special that played ALL of her music videos!

Jesus really does love me.

Last night after watching Bear from Man vs. Wild bite a snake’s head off, I turned to the MTV HITS channel and watched a few videos before heading to bed. Which means, this morning when Boyfriend turned on the TV it was still on MTV HITS. He had to come and get me when this song started playing…



Introducing Mindless Behavior!
Staring Princeton! (Don't you ivy leaguers feel stupid now?) Prodigy! (I don't think he was the Smack My Bitch Up singer from 1997, because he probably was only... well actually I was going to type 3, but really he was probably not even born in the 90s...) Ray Ray (who I'm pretty sure might be that Willow Smith kid) and Roc Royal (who according to lots of YouTube comments is sooooo cute!!!)

I'm pretty sure these kids are a mutation of NSYNC and KrisKross with a little Will Smith thrown in there to keep it clean.

Let's take a sample of their lyrics...

"I got a clue how you feel for me. 1-4-3 a smiley with a wink. That's how you feel baby that's what's up. A hundred forty characters, is more than enough." - Okay I might not be on Twitter, but I get the 140 character reference (thank God) but I have no idea was 1-4-3 means. Boyfriend and I tried to figure it out this morning, and I'll be honest my mind got real dirty real fast and since I told my Dad I would try not to cruse as much on my blog I don't think a paragraph about what I suggested 1-4-3 might mean would make him very happy. But my point it, if 1-4-3 isn't dirty then why not just say what it is instead of being all mysterious and talking in number codes.

"When you say yo, then I'll say hey love. You hit me with a sad face, what I do? I hit you with a question mark. You send me back a J slash K, said I'm just playing with you." - If this is how kids are flirting over text messages to quote a fabulous movie, "I weep for the future." Really? Sad Face and then j/k??? Come on youth of America! When I was in high school it was practically an art form, flirting over AIM and then texting. I can't tell you how many nights I stayed up until 4AM perfecting my electronical flirting skills. Step it up kiddos, because sad face, j/k isn't going to hold them for long.

"She text me after school, she do it like it's homework. Up in the salon, she do it like it's homework. My girl's in love, I think I'm in love. I wonder what she texted now." - THIS DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!!! At first I'm thinking if she's texting him likes it's homework, she must be bored and about to break up with him because homework is boring and dumb and these prepubescent Black Street wannabees are comparing their lover's texts to spelling words or Biology terms. Yet, then she's in love and he's in love. With each other? With the teacher? With who? AND THEN, he wonders what she texted... Hey dumby! Why don't you actually look at the text??? Just saying that might help a little...

This is reason 46,285 why I don't want kids, you have to listen to this crap while driving them to the movies or soccer practice in your mini van.

Being Lazy, How Mattresses Grow, and My Very Full Bed...

Do you ever have days where all you want to do is curl up in bed and never leave the warmth of your blankets? I probably shouldn’t be writing about this when in my last post I wrote about how I might have been bit by a bug named Lazy, but I’ve been having those “I never want to leave my bed days” all winter.

I think I need to explain my whole bed situation.

I have a full bed that my parents bought me when I graduated High School and I needed to furnish my first bedroom in my first apartment. This was the first “big” bed I had ever owned. Growing up the furniture in my room was an antique twin bed set my mother bought at an auction when I was in Kindergarten. Although she let me change the sheets and bedspread many times I never had the option of getting a bigger bed. My sister had a full bed, but that’s because her bedroom furniture had a full bed. For some reason it never crossed my mind to ask my parents why Sister got a big bed and never got to sleep comfortably with our dog because a twin bed was too small for the both of us.

Anyway, so in college I got my first full sized bed and it’s still around today. This means that it’s eight years old (which is CRAZY to think about) which means IT HAS DOUBLED ITS WEIGHT BECAUSE OF DEAD SKIN AND MICROSCOPIC BUGS!!! Y’all have seen that commercial right? Or did I just blow your mind/terrify you???

Okay so I just Googled that fact and technically your mattress doesn’t double its weight but… oh just read this…

“A mattress does gain weight as the years pass. It absorbs the fluids that your body excretes (oil and sweat) as well as dead skin cells. Another weight factor, is that the mattress becomes host to microscopic dust mites, which live in the dust and feed on the skin cells. These then perform their normal biologic functions, and their excrement adds its weight to the mattress as well. With all these factors, over 10 or so years, a 90 pound mattress can gain around 20 pounds.”

Thanks Anwsers.com (aka WikiAnswers)… I think.

I guess the point of writing about the crap that I sleep on every night is about a year ago Boyfriend and I decided we should start looking for a new bed. Which we did. We look around for a nice, new Queen sized bed, because as much as I love Boyfriend, dude that kid takes up A LOT of space when he sleeps. Then just before Thanksgiving Boyfriend’s Mom let us know that she had an extra mattress that was practically brand new and no place to put it. (It’s kinda a long story involving family members and fires and a house that had been in the family for over a century or something burning and thus totally 100% not funny, so I’m going to spare y’all the details.) When we went up to see Boyfriend’s family for Thanksgiving we came home with a brand new bed!

So, we switched out the beds putting the new mattress in our bedroom and leaning the old up in the tiny hallway while we tried to figure out what to do with it. I really didn’t want to get rid of it completely because one day I would like to live in a house larger than 800 square feet that also might have a second bedroom. That night we slept on the new mattress and well… didn’t have a good night. Neither of us slept well at all. The second night was the same. The third night might have been the same and it might have been worse, but all I remember was it was not good. These restless and uncomfortable nights kept coming until finally one day I broke down and told Boyfriend I wanted to sleep on the old mattress again.

It didn’t take a lot of convincing on my part.

But, we still had the problem of what to do with the other mattress. This was our solution… I know it’s crazy, but it really does work for us… at least right now. We’ve created this nook of warmth, coziness, and comfort with lots of mismatched pillows and our giant duvet. Oh, and that blue blanket from Ikea, my mom bought me that when I was moving into my first little efficiency and I LOVE IT! Seriously it was the best buy from Ikea ever! The arrangement of our two beds make things extra “nook like” because the side with the blue blanket (my side) is up against a wall. I feel like sleeping with my back against the wall is something I should have grown out of by now, but I don’t care. I still like having Boyfriend on one side and a pillow lined wall on the other.

Boyfriend says this double bed of extra comfort and coziness can’t last forever, but for right now it’s pretty damn nice.

Eventually I want this bed and Boyfriend said he would build it for me. I’ve never seen any of his bed making skills, but I look forward to witnessing them.

One Week Down: Cursing at Boyfriend, Diet Coke, and Pounds Lost...

At the end of today I will have been on my diet for exactly one week. While I am happy... well ecstatic I have made it through one week, it has been excruciatingly hard. Here’s how the past week has run down.

Day 1: I AM STARVING!!! Literally I went to bed that night and I dreamt about food. In my dream my family and I were moving from one house to another, but instead of driving or flying we were walking. Yeah, just like we were out for a stroll in the woods, except we were walking to a new house and following us were 500 men carrying all of our household goods. It was cold and rainy and we were walking through some giant forest hoping to make it to our new home before school started for me and my sister (although we looked our respectable 20 something age for some reason we would be back in grade school), and all I could think about in my dream was, “Man, I’m in the mood for peanut butter. Like if all of the sudden some peanut butter popped up over there on that fallen tree stump I would be all over that. But wait. Crap. Can I eat peanut butter? Is that allowed on my diet? Oh, I hope I can eat peanut butter…” Yeah, it had been one day people and I was so deprived of food I was dreaming about the crunchy, creamy goodness that is Jif Extra Chunky. And the last time I ate peanut butter… probably like 4 years ago. FML.

Day 2: This happened after dinner that night.

Me: (to myself) “I’m still hungry. I’m going to eat a Laughing Cow Cheese wedge (LOVE THEM!)."

Boyfriend (hearing the fridge open): “What are you getting?”

Me: “Just a little Cheese for dessert.”

Boyfriend: “Let me have a bite.”

Me (stopping mid-stride while walking back to the couch): “Are you fucking for real?”

Boyfriend (looking around nervously): “Um, yeah…”

Me: “This is my dessert! Do you realize that?!?! This is all I get! You can go in there and eat sour cream and onion potato chips till you burst or Oreo cookies with milk, WHOLE MILK!!! But, for me this tiny little wedge of cheese is all I get! Fuck you. You cannot have a bite of my cheese!!!”

Boyfriend: “Geez, all I wanted was a bite.”

Me: "Get your own!"

Boyfriend: “I don’t want my own I just want a bite of yours.”

Me: “Hell no, buddy.”

Then I gave him a tiny bite out of guilt because I yelled at him. And if I yell at Boyfriend I feel like the diet wins. And, the diet can not win...

Day 4: Day 4 was my first day going to a restaurant while on the diet. I did okay. I ordered a salad and gave away the quesadilla-like breed that came with. It did, however, have corn on it and corn is a no- no. My bad. The big thing that started on day 3 was the craving for Diet Coke. Background info here… I’m not a “soda person”. I used to drink them when I was younger and then my parents stopped buying as many so I stopped drinking them. They weren’t a hard thing to give up. I probably drink 10 to 15 Cokes a year. As much as I’m not a “soda person” I am totally, 100% an unsweetened ice tea person. I crave it. I rate restaurants by how good their tea tastes. I ask boyfriend to pick it up for me if he is coming home. I can down gallons of the stuff. Since I’ve started this diet I think I have only had it once. All I want is Diet Coke. Now, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that I’ve completely cut carbs and sugar out of my diet and my cravings are making up for the lack of sugar in something else. I get it. I get it that my brain is tricking me. You know what; I’m so okay with that.

On Saturday Ted came over to pick up Boyfriend. The very first thing he did was get some ice out of the freezer and pour a Diet Coke into a plastic glass. The entire time I’m doing some cleaning in the house and carrying on polite conversation but in my mind I’m thinking this, “How dare you bring Diet Coke into my house and not bring me one you horrible excuse for a human being!!! Give me the Coke!!! Must take the Coke!!!” Yet, out loud I’m saying this, “Yeah, Caddyshack is one of my favorite 80’s films. Well, minus the character Maggie. I F-ing hate Maggie!!!” As soon as I had the chance I drove to the corner store and bought a Diet Coke.

Day 4 (nighttime): That night I went out to eat again. LSU Friend, Cupcake, and I all went to Hide Park Grill. Hide Park is known for one thing. It’s so well known for this one thing that the sign in front to the building is a fork spearing this magnificent dish. French Fries. Not just any French Fries, these have been dipped in buttermilk before they are fried and they are served with a Chipotle Mayonnaise! They take me back to eating Belgium Fries while shopping in Germany. They are nostalgic, yummy goodness and I love them. But I could not eat them.

However, I did order their salmon with green beans and broccoli. I specifically wanted to order the salmon because I wanted leftovers to make this recipe I found on the website Kalyn’s Kitchen. This website is amazing! Check it out to learn all about her, but long story short a few years ago she lost a whole lotta weight using South Beach and now she has a great blog sharing her favorite recipes she has created and modified from other cookbooks and websites to be South Beach friendly. They are so good! I’ve made White Chili with Chicken and Breakfast Egg Muffins which I dip in salsa to get my kinda breakfast taco fix. (Because OMG have I been going through breakfast taco withdraws. I mean addictions are hard to break.) I’ve also done Shrimp with Dijon Mustard sauce which Boyfriend loved as well, and another chili. Thank you Kalyn. Thank you internet.

Tonight will mark one week down on my journey to a skinnier Lemon Lady.

Things I’ve learned…

Diet Coke – good
Picture of brownies on a blog I read – bad
Laughing Cow Cheese with everything – good
Listening to Boyfriend munch on chips – bad
Snacking at work – good
Not drinking – bad
Losing 4 pounds in a week – good
Going to Baton Rouge and New Orleans on Thursday – well that could be bad but I’m going to try my best…

Brought Together By Richard Dreyfuss...

Boyfriend and I have been together for four and a half years. Whenever I tell people this they are surprised and usually a little shocked. Next comes the big question, “Why aren’t y’all married?” First of all, how awkward of a question is that? Who are you to demand to know anything that personal about my relationship?

“Why aren’t y’all married?”

“Because I’m an avid fan of Brad and Angelina and will only marry after they do.”

“Because I have refused the 17 different rings he has proposed with because they aren’t big and sparkly enough.”

“Because I’m allergic to white dresses and large cakes.”

“Because we can’t afford to go on a Honeymoon to the Maldives.”

“Because I’m a nihilist and therefore I don’t believe in anything including marriage.”

How about, “DIVORSE SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF ME AND I WANT TO MAKE ABSOLUTE SURE THAT THIS PERSON IS THE ONE I WANT TO SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH AND THAT HE WANTS TO SPEND THE REST OF HIS LIFE WITH ME AND WALKING DOWN THE AISLE IN A PRETTY DRESS CAN WAIT UNTIL WE’RE DAMN WELL READY AND IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!!!”

Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, here is reason 5,347,273 that Boyfriend and I are meant to be… (Oh, and it’s not all lovey dovey so please keep reading.)

When Boyfriend and I started dating he made me watch one of his favorite movies he used to watch a lot growing up called Let It Ride. Made in 1989 it stars Richard Dreyfuss as Jay Trotter, a man who on the day he decides to give up gambling forever and really make his marriage work gets a tip on a winning horse at the local race track and then his luck keeps him going all day. It’s really funny and has become one of my favorite movies. The movie script was adapted from Jay Cronley’s book Good Vibes. A few years ago, Boyfriend and I tried to go buy the book and we found out that it has been out of print for years and years, thus making it rare and pretty expensive.

Which brings me to the question, “What to get Boyfriend for Christmas”. Now I know he made a great list, but I wanted to really surprise him and finally buy him the book we always talk about reading, but never actually have, Good Vibes. So, right before Thanksgiving I got online and started looking for the book on various sites. The cheapest one I found was for almost two hundred, so I decided to just keep watching it and maybe it will go down or I can find it somewhere local. A couple weeks later I completely changed my mind about my gift to him and got him something different. End of story… right?

No.

The other day Boyfriend and I were hanging at the house when he turned to me and said, “So, I’m going to tell you what I almost got you for Christmas, but then I didn’t get it for you, so I can tell you now without you getting mad.”

“Okay”

Yeah, he then went on to describe how he wanted to get me the book Good Vibes, but they’ve gotten really expensive and he just can’t spend that much money on one book. Then I got the greatest flash forward scene ever in my head. Picture this, it’s Christmas morning and we’re sitting on my parents couch with Mom, Dad, Sister, Brother in Law, Nephew, and Grandma Texas. There is a fire in the fireplace and the tree is decorated all beautiful and we’re drinking mimosas and there is wrapping paper and gift boxes all over. In our hands are the gifts we are exchanging. At the same time we unwrap them together only to find THE EXACT SAME book. But not something we picked up at Barnes and Nobles. Not a book that is on the best sellers list, but the exact same rare, out of print book we had to hunt for online.

And that is the 5,347,273 reason why I love my boyfriend and I know we will be together forever even if we aren’t married.

Top Chef ALL STARS: Quotes, Boyfriend's Ideas, and Double Name Issues...

Top Chef Recap should be up on The TV Guide Hunters sometime this afternoon/evening. I don’t want to go into too much detail about last night’s episode before you’ve had the chance to check it out, so instead, here’s a look into my notes and all the ridiculous quotes that came out of the “cheftestants” mouths.

“All Star season, more like Open Season.” – White Dale (Because anyone could go at any time)

“The Jonas brothers are like Rockstars.” – Spike (Spike letting us know what type of music he hides under his douchy Nickelback and Doughty CDs)

“Kids are the pickiest eaters… the will cry in your face if you don’t give them what they want.” – White Dale (On his confusion about what to make for kids)

“Basically I’m making crap for small children.” – White Dale (What he then decides to make)

“Kids love Marshmallows, right?” – Marcel (Proving my theory that Marcel was never a child and probably came out of the womb being at least 15 and a snotty teenager)

“It’s like trying to make chicken soup with chicken shit” – Asian Dale (Why even his help won’t help Spike win the Quickfire)

“I have no interest in having children… ever” – Jamie (On kids, and how she might be my lesbian soul mate)

“2nd place is still losing.” – Jen (What her father used to tell her and why her pork belly must be perfect)

“According to Jurassic Park T Rex eats Brontosaurus and things like that.” – Casey (Proving she is blond and pissing me off with her inaccurate portrayal of one of the great books of our time)

“YOU DON’T FUCK WITH SOME ELSE’S MISE EN PLATES!!!” – Marcel (‘nuff said)

Another thing that made last night’s episode so wonderfully bad (besides learning that Tre sleeps nude) was that Boyfriend watched it with me. Here is what came to Boyfriend’s mind when watching Team Brontosaurus present their food.

Boyfriend: “Who wants to eat gnocchi for breakfast? These kids just want bacon and eggs and some Lucky Charms.”

Me: “They can’t use meat, so bacon and eggs are out of the picture.”

Boyfriend: “Then cereal. They should just put out a large cereal bar and let them have at it.”

Me: “Yeah, okay…”

Boyfriend: “You know if you’re and athlete, cereal is the way to go. If you get an “in” in the cereal market, you’re set for life. I mean people who watch sports LOVE cereal! The age bracket is perfect.”

Me: “What’s the age bracket?”

Boyfriend: “Kids.”

Me: “Kids?”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, kids sit and eat cereal while they watch sports. Parents are too busy watching this (pointing to my lap top which he had open to The Drudge Report), but kids love sports. In fact I don’t understand why schools don’t license out cereal brands. Notre Dame Leprecons! Florida Gator Mallows! Granola from Cal Berkley! I mean we might get some resistance from Luck Charms for the leprecon thing, but we would be making so much money who cares! Just think, Texas cereal with little longhorns floating in the milk. Although, we would want to make the horns curve the other way or something so we don’t infringe on their copyright…”

These are the kinds of conversations we have on a daily basis.

Also, Boyfriend things I’m being racist calling the Dales and Tiffanies, White, Black, and Asian. I do this because it is easier than remembering Faison, Derry, Talde, and Levitski. Then he told me if I am going to call Tiffany Derry, Black Tiffany I should call Dale Talde, Yellow Dale. I said that was extremely racist and rude. Then he said I should then call Black Tiffany, African Tiffany, but I fired back that she isn’t African she’s American, so should I call her American Tiffany? But then White Tiffany is also American, so we’re back where we started, having two people with the same name. Then Boyfriend pointed out that Asian Dale is probably not like “Asian Asian” because he doesn’t have an accent and he is American, too. So according to Boyfriend this is how I should write their names…

Tiffany Faison: American Tiffany with red hair and freckles

Tiffany Derry: American Tiffany with a dark tan who may or may not have descended from African Slaves

Dale Levitski: Gay American Dale

Dale Talde: American Dale with parents who are from “one of those China countries” in the far east who is also an asshole

What Boyfriend Wants For Christmas...Yes, This is 100% True...

Christmas is right around the corner and I am really, really excited. First of all I don’t care what any of y’all say, no one does Christmas better than my family. The day is full of eating, presents, eating, hanging out together, eating, football, eating, having fun, and eating some more. Plus, this is an even year meaning Sister and Brother in Law will be with us for the holidays. Then, to add icing to the cake, Boyfriend will be coming to Christmas with my family for the very first time. Yeah… I kinda excited.

So, because Boyfriend will be with my family for Christmas morning they have been asking me for ideas of what to get him in his presents under the tree and what he would want in his stocking. I told him last week that over the weekend he needed to sit down and make a list. I went to see my parents in San Antonio this past weekend and when I came home on Sunday and asked him about his list he told me that I should just give them some stores and gift card ideas, because he didn’t want to demand gifts and already know what he would be getting before Christmas morning. Okay… So, yesterday I sent an email to my mom and sister with some generic ideas for gifts for Boyfriend, only to walk in the door last night to find him sitting in front of the computer with a yellow sheet of construction paper, making his Christmas List.

I thought I’d share that list with y’all for my blog post today.

(So, here it is. Copied straight from the paper. No changes. Promise.)

1. Flip Flops of high water quality. (Olukai Brand, Makai Collection, Ohana Black)

2. Gold and/or Silver Coins (1 oz weight)

3. T-Shirt

4. Long Sleeve T-Shirts

5. Colloidal Silver Generator (www.silverlungs.com)

6. Soap

7. Rug of high Arabic quality circular form

8. Leather Flip Flops

9. Lionel Messi’s soccer shoes… see Lemon Lady for color…

10. Plastics

11. Helly Hansen tops and Bottoms (Voss men’s pant #70480 in black, Roan Anorak #70206, both found in the HH work wear section of the website)

12. Socks (Wood floor quality)

13. Crawfish Boil set up

14. Winter flip flops

15. Soft Super Cooler (www.softsupercooler.com)

16. Sunspel Sleep Pants

17. Fairway Woods

18. Persol Shades

Right…

So, first of all I want to say how much I absolutely 100% adore my boyfriend. And, that list might be reason 367,289 that I’m madly in love with him.

But…

Come on! That’s ridiculous!!!

Going through them one by one…

1. Starting out good. He does really love these flip flops and I know he has been looking for them in stores around town, but since IT’S WINTER no one has his size left. FYI size 10.

2. I don’t even know what to say about him wanting silver and gold coins except that he does… yeah…

3. I love this. “T-Shirt” Well, isn’t that great. Boyfriend wants a T-Shirt. Does he want a red one? Or a Large one? Or maybe one from Target or Armani? Who knows? Evidently I’m support to be able to read his mind and know this means a Crazy Shirt. K.

4. Long sleeve T-Shirts (see above)

5. I still have no idea what this thing is. Boyfriend has tried to explain it to me so many times and each time I just end up confused. I just Googled it and to be honest I got bored reading about them before I even found out what they do, so go at it Mom and Sister.

6. Here he is referring to the expensive British Soap he loves called Mark Birley. No body wash please, just the bar.

7. “Rug of high Arabic quality circular form” HAHAHA!!! I laughed like crazy when I read that. I mean, we do want a rug for the livingroom and we would like it to be round, but evidently Boyfriend wants it to be “of high Arabic quality”.

8. I’m not quite sure how these are different from the first flip flops…

9. Yeah, so he wants soccer shoes even though he hasn’t played soccer since college and I’m suppose to know in what color he wants these shoes… um, I don’t know the color and I’m pretty sure that makes me a very bad girlfriend.

10. In the language of Boyfriend, “plastics” mean Nike, Puma, Adidas, ect, workout shorts he wears to work and around the house. I should point out here that he would want a size large (I don't care how big they look) and he likes them to have pockets.

11. This one might sound weird, but it’s not once you get past the fact that the waterproof work wear he wants is some crazy Swedish brand. You can actually find it at REI and other large outdoor stores.

12. “Wood Floor Quality” I’m guessing this means, “Really soft awesome socks like Lemon Lady has and that I steal and stretch out because my foot is big and fat.” But that’s just an educated guess…

13. Boyfriend must be tried of crab and is moving on to a new crustacean.

14. What the Hell is a “winter flip flop”?

15. Okay so this seems pretty cool.

16. Sunspel is a very old British men’s undergarments company that boyfriend found out a few years ago because of a article about James Bond. Yes, Sunspel is the official provider of all 007’s underwear since the first movie way back when. Two years ago, all he wanted was James Bond underwear from England and being the good girlfriend I am I bought him 75$ underwear. So, now he wants some pajama pants. Awesome.

17. He plays golf. I feel like this is a normal thing to be on a Christmas List.

18. Remember #16 and the James Bond underwear, well Persol makes his sunglasses and Boyfriend really wants a pair. Yes, they look good on him.

Again, I love Boyfriend very much, but there is no denying he’s a weird guy.

Oh, and while I was writing this he called to let me know he has one more thing to add to the list…

19. Rosetta Stone (languages: Polish, Spanish, Jamaican, or “Freaky Deecky Dutch”)

My response to this…

19. Boyfriend wants to learn a language. Awesome, I fully support this. Polish I get because he is polish. Spanish because everyone in Texas should know Spanish. Jamaican??? I have no idea. AND NO WAY AM I GOING TO ALLOW ANOTHER BOYFRIEND OF MINE TO LEARN DUTCH!!!

Introducing Ms. Hann And The Fact That Old Navy Doesn't Want Boyfriend's Feet To Be Warm...

Bare with my materialistic post today. I promise next week I’ll have a hilarious embarrassing story to share with you, but not today. Today is all about NOT living with 100 things, but going out into the world of commerce and buying things! (I love being an adult and having money and a pay check…)

I made two significant purchases yesterday on my day off.

The first is this beauty I picked up at the Nordstrom’s Simi Annual Sale. She is Cole Haan and she is my new favorite thing. I’ve wanted a nice bag for a while. And hot damn if this isn’t a beautiful bag. She is the softest black pebbled leather with a gorgeous mahogany lining. The straps are the perfect length for carrying her over your shoulder or across your arms. The gold hardware works perfectly for me because I like and wear gold and it’s not gaudy and there isn’t a lot of it. Have I said she’s soft… she’s really soft.

Before Ms. Haan made it home with me yesterday the most I had ever spent on a handbag was probably 40 bucks, if that. Also, my handbag collection has seen better days, I mean really… it’s sad. When I moved into the new place this summer LSU Friend and I spent a good day going through my closet tossing and donating clothes, shoes, and handbags. I moved to the new place with one black knockoff Coach tote that Jew Boy (who’s not really Jewish, so it’s kinda a weird nickname) bought me on Canal Street in New York. The lining inside is ripping, but it looks better than my baby blue (real) Coach bag that I bought from someone’s car trunk with my old boss. That one is so dirty it more looks like a brown bag with something blue spilled on it. Oh and some Chick-Filet honey mustard sauce leaked in the inside. (Don’t judge me!) I own a canvas tote from Target with yellow straps and also Sister gave me a red satchel also from Target. Actually, when LSU Friend and I were going through all my bags last summer I realized that Sister has given me three purses for Christmas/My Birthday in let’s say the past 8 years and all of them have been red. I also own a silver clutch which I’m pretty sure I stole from my mom, and a black carpet bag that has a fun gold chain as straps, but they always break, so really they aren’t fun. That’s it. That’s my handbag collection. Ms Haan was needed.

After perusing the shoes at Nordstroms and resisting and telling myself I just dropped X amount of money on a handbag, I did what any girl my age would have done… I went to Old Navy. First of all let me point out that Old freaking Navy already has a Christmas tree up in the store and yes, they are already playing holiday music. Really? It was Halloween LAST WEEKEND!!! But I quickly got back into the retail state of mind when I saw on the rack what I was looking for… jeggings.

Yeah, you read that right, Jeggings. For y’all who don’t know what jeggings are (i.e. dad), jeggings are leggings that are made to look like jeans. For the past few years I have been avoiding the leggings trend because just the thought of wearing leggings took me back to elementary school when leggings were the only “bottoms” I would wear. I didn’t wear dresses or skirts or even jeans, I only wore bottoms that were fitted and stretchy and looked cool with my over sized Emmitt Smith T-Shirts and homemade holiday sweatshirts. However, Boyfriend has been begging me to wear leggings ever since he went to Amsterdam with his buddy, Caliman. He came back from the Netherlands all knowledgeable about fashion. This is his wisdom, “All the hot girls in Europe are wearing long shirts and sweater with tall boots and like really, really thick tights…” Once I explained to him that tights are not pants and they are called leggings he has been bothering me for the past two winters to wear leggings. I finally gave in.

I can’t go full legging yet. I’m just not there mentally. But, I was willing to try the whole jegging tread, so I loaded up a couple of styles in multiple sizes (because I never know what size I am at Old Navy) and headed to the dressing room. To my surprise, I didn’t hate them… In fact I kinda like them… a lot. So, I bought them and I’m wearing them right now tucked into the boots Boyfriend bought me while in Amsterdam with a short shirt dress from H&M and a sweater. So, Old Navy come through from me and let me try this trend for a fraction of the Nordstroms price, even during the sale.

Oh, I also learned that the new skinny leg, ankle capri cargo pants all the actresses and models are wearing this season, is not a good look if you have thighs. Just FYI…

Here’s my question for Old Navy… Why don’t they make fun, soft socks for men? You know those socks that I’m talking about… they are made from that synthetic material that feels like angel wings and puppy dog dreams. Old Navy has them every year in fun colors and prints and they make perfect stocking stuffers. Well, they don’t make them for men. Why not? I mean I understand them not having the pink and silver sparkly ones, but why not some blues ones with footballs or something? I say this because for the past week Boyfriend has been stealing my socks. First to go were my elf socks because they are 500 times too big for me and thus actually sorta fit him. Then he moved on to my super soft Bath and Body Works socks, which annoyed me because they will stretch out too much. Then the other day I come home and he is laying on the couch with my multicolored rainbow ankle socks that Best Friend gave me on! WFT Boyfriend?!?! The thick socks I understand, but those ankle socks are no more thick and luscious than any of his plan white boring socks.

This is why I was so excited to see the fun socks at Old Navy. In my mind I thought, “I’ll buy him his own and then he’ll leave mind alone.” You see this is the problem with sharing a sock drawer, he thinks everything in it should belong to him. Um, no Boyfriend. So I walk to the men’s side of the store and find no socks. So, I found someone and asked them where the fun, super soft, holiday men’s socks are and the sales chick looked right at me and said, “Why would anyone want those?”

I wanted to scream at her, "Because my boyfriend is super weird!" but instead I just walked away thinking how bad a sales associate she was...

I Almost Ate An Entire Bag of Halloween Candy Just to Prove Boyfriend Wrong...

I almost had a small heart attack last night. I thought, just for a second or two, I wasn’t going to have any trick-or-treaters come to my door. I’ve been excepting kiddos to come to my house on Halloween ever since we moved in last summer, but I’ve been trying to down play how excited I was because last year when I thought I would have trick-or-treaters I didn’t get any and Boyfriend made fun of me for buying and crap load of candy. This year I didn’t buy any crazy decorations or dish out 12.99 for a pumpkin and I only bought one bag of candy.

6:00PM Halloween Night…

Boyfriend: (talking to me on the couch while I’m reading and he’s watching football) “You need to go pick up the Laundry.”

Me: “Doesn’t the place close at 9? I’m not going now because the trick-or-treaters will be here very soon.”

Boyfriend: “We aren’t going to have any trick-or-treaters!”

Me: “Yes, we are and when they come to my door I will be there with candy for them!”

Boyfriend: “Fine. I’ll go get the laundry.”

Me: “I’ll go. I just won’t go until later, after the kids come begging for sugar.”

Boyfriend: “No, you’re right. You’ve been waiting to this all weekend. (Um, more like since June) You stay. I’ll go and I’ll pick up another bag of candy on the way home. But, before you get all excited about the hundreds of kids that will tramping up and down our front stairs, why don’t you look out the window.”

Me: “Why, what’s outsi… WFT?!?!?!”

Yeah, so here I am defending the children of my neighborhood from evil Boyfriend who doesn’t think they will come and ask for treats and I look outside and see kids with their parents SKIPPING OVER MY HOUSE!!!

Me: “What the F? Are we not good enough for those little brats? Is our house not cool enough? Do we deserve to be the bottom feeders of our street because we didn’t shell out hard earned money for a black light or black trash bags to make a haunted house? (Thank you over achieving neighbors across the street.)”

Boyfriend: “They clearly are discriminating against us because it is obvious we are a rental and that means we are young and have no kids and must do lots of drugs and poison candy.”

Me: “So what if we rent! Does that mean my Kit Kats aren’t as good as Mr. Long Time Resident across the street? Hell no! And so what if we poison our candy, isn’t that what parents are for? Good parenting is not not letting your kid go to rental house. Good parenting is checking the candy for poison and razor blades before their little brats eat it!”

Boyfriend: “Why don’t you just sit outside? Then everyone will know you’re not creepy and they will let their kids take candy from you."

Me: “And get eaten alive my mosquitoes? I don’t think so.”

It’s at about this time in the conversation that three kids have passed up our house (I know this because I keep peering out the front window) and Boyfriend leaves to go pick up our laundry. I sit on the couch getting madder and madder.

Me: (totally internally now) “Pass by my house. Snobs! All of you. Just because there isn’t a Lexus under my carport… Besides those kids were all alone with their parents. No friends, no siblings… They were probably the really over baring, protective types that didn’t have kids until they were 45. Snobs. This is what I get for living in central Austin. If we lived down south or up north this wouldn’t have happened. Kids would be lining up for my Almond Joys.”

A few minutes of stewing later…

Me: (again to myself) “What if no one really does come? Boyfriend is going to rub it in for weeks that I hid candy from him so he wouldn’t eat it, just to have no trick-or-treaters anyway. (Grabbing a Hershey’s Bar) Maybe I should just eat it all. Yeah, I’ll eat it all and then when boyfriend comes back I’ll just tell him we had a crazy big rush and it’s all gone and why didn’t he pick up another bag of candy while he was out. And I’ll take all the wrappers out and throw them away in my neighbor’s trash can. Or I don’t have to eat all the candy, but save some of it in my underwear drawer. Yeah, that way I’ll have some left over… Reeses Peanut Butter Cups for a few months sounds like a good plan to me.”

Luckily before I started smashing chocolate in my mouth there was a loud knock at my door followed by the beautiful music that is, “Trick or Treat!”

I had lots of very cute kids come to my door. Snow White was very popular and so was Spider Man. My favorite was a girl who looked about 10 in a gypsy costume. The cutest was a tie between a little guy dressed up as a dinosaur who cried when his mother picked him up to walk down my porch stairs because he wanted to walk them by himself. This seemed like a pretty reasonable request to me, and I watched as his mom put him back at the top of the stairs and he slowly walked them all by himself. The other cutie was a robot of about 4 who came to the door with his little sister (3 maybe) who was dressed up like a mermaid. He made sure she held her bag open and told me not to give her candy until she said, “trick or treat” then he got his candy, looked me straight in the eye and said, “You have a very happy Halloween.” I told him, “Yes Sir, I’ll try.”

How I Almost Went Crazy Last Night When I Went To Buy Sour Cream...

The Project Runway Recap is coming tomorrow. I promise. I didn’t get to watch it because Boyfriend took over the couch last night, and I wanted to be a good girlfriend so I didn’t make him watch it with me. Why was Boyfriend all over my couch like it was his territory? Boyfriend is officially Gimpy Boyfriend now. He stepped on a nail yesterday at work and tore his foot up. Yeah, in his ultimate wisdom he decided that wearing shoes is for losers and thus pissed off the Flip Flop Gods, who evidently are buddy buddy with the I’m Gonna Shove A Giant Nail In Your Foot Gods. It’s so bad that Gimpy Boyfriend didn’t go to work today. We’ve been dating for over four years and I’ve only seen him not go to work twice. Once he had the worst flu bug I’ve ever witnessed (well at a distance because I didn’t want to get sick, which was hard because we lived in a 400 square foot efficiency) and once when he drank a gallon of gin the night before and had alcohol poisoning. Now I can add “that one time he stepped on a nail and shredded the bottom of his foot” to the list.

So, no PR recap, but I thought I’d tell y’all about my trip to my local fresh Mexican restaurant, Zocalo, last night.

It goes like this… Gimpy Boyfriend is in the bath with his leg sticking out, whining that it hurts and whatnot, while I am trying to figure out what to do for dinner. Today is payday, meaning yesterday there was no food in the house, but a shit load of polish sausage that Boyfriend’s Sister made the last time she was in Chicago. Gimpy Boyfriend didn’t want to wait the hour+ it takes to thaw and cook the sausage and wanted me to heat up the remaining part of his Rick Barnes on Potato Pancakes I had bought him the day before. He also wanted me to run to the store and get more sour cream because evidently the people at Katz had been stingy and he didn’t have enough for the second half of the sandwich. Now, being the nice girlfriend that I am, I said no problem, grabbed my purse, and left to make Gimpy Boyfriend happy.

I think I once mentioned that I hate when people misuse the word “literally”. So, when I say that Clarksville Grocery is literally two blocks away, I literally mean it’s two blocks away. In fact I usually just walk, but Gimpy Boyfriend was being gimpy and whining and wanted me to hurry so I took Yolanda (that’s my car’s name). I say this to let you, the reader, know that I’m kinda in a hurry to get home and nurse my wounded boyfriend back to health with potato pancakes and sour cream. As I was backing out of my drive way, I had a moment of genus as I decided to stop by Zolcalo to put in an order for guacamole and their tostada salad, which I love, and while it was being made just run to the Grocery store (which is right across the street) and grab Gimpy Boyfriend’s sour cream.

I park Yolanda in the Zocalo parking lot and quickly walk to the front door. As I’m about to make it up the stairs I am cut off by three girls walking into the restaurant. I am kinda annoyed by this when I open the door and see that there would have been no line at the ordering counter if I had been there a split second earlier, or if those girls would have held open the door for me. So, here I am waiting behind girl numbers 1,2, and 3.

What pissed me off first is the fact that all three of them picked up menus to look and see what they wanted, but then immediately walked up to the counter like they were ready to order. I mean that’s why the menus aren’t at the cash register, but further back by the door, so you can figure it out and then walk up to the greasy hipster and place your order. Second thing that pissed me off was the fact that they all looked exactly alike! And, no, not in a, “wow are y’all triplets?” kinda way, but in a, “we all shop only at American Apparel, Skinny Jean R Us, and Goodwill but only to be ironic” kinda way. Seriously, they all had on slightly over sized plain shirts with tiny, tiny shorts just barely sticking out under the hem of the shirt. They all had on the same T strapped sandals, but in different colors. They all had these small little purses with really long straps so they hung low. They all had long hair that was pulled to the side and braided. And they all talked in that “girl/flirty/annoying” voice. You know that voice.

Girl Number 1: (holding the menu standing in front of Greasy Hipster Dude who is behind the counter) “um… yeah… um…”

Girl Number 2: (also holding a menu) “Yeah… oh… um…”

Girl Number 3: (looking over Girl number 2’s shoulder) “Mmmm… okay… um…”

Girl Number 1: “The tortilla soup sounds yum… um… hum…”

Girl Number 2: “Yeah I had tortilla soup once… it was… yeah… good…”

Girl Number 1: “But look, enchiladas… maybe…”

Girl Number 3: “Hum…” (turning to Greasy Hipster) “What do you think about the Tacos?”

Greasy Hipster: “Tacos? Yeah, they are good, I guess.”

Girl Number 3: “Yeah, I guess…”

Girl number 1: (looking at Greasy Hipster) “What is your favorite thing on the menu?”

Greasy Hipster: “Well, I…”

Girl Number 2: “No, what are your three favorite things on the menu?”

Time Out... At this point I am already clinching my jaw and telling myself to calm down. But come on! It’s been 6 minutes and not a one of these dumb bitches has ordered and I have to get thought three of them!!! I just want to place my quick order, run across the street to grab some sour cream and Neosporin and toothpaste (I’ve been waiting so long I’ve remembered other things I need to get) and get home and take care of Gimpy Boyfriend like the fucking loving person that I am!!! Time In…

Greasy Hipster: “Well I really enjoy the… blah, blah, blah…” (he then went on to describe half the freaking menu)

Girl Number 1: “Oh… well… everything sounds so yummy… I think I’ll have… (OMFingG I think she is going to order) um… yeah… I’ll have the enchiladas.”

Praise God one of them is finally done! All she has to do is fish money out of that ridiculously small purse and move along.

Girl Number 1: “Oh… wait…” (No! No wait!) “Can I see a drink menu?”

Um, no you can’t stupid girl. You are in a restaurant where you walk up to the counter. Look around, there is no bar you dumb bitch. You can get a frozen Margarita or a frozen Sangria, or if you want to the really daring you can get a mix of both. How do I know this? Is it because I frequent this restaurant? No, it’s because there is a giant God Damn sign right above Greasy Hipster’s head letting the customers, including Girl Number 1,2, and 3, know!!! Greasy Hipster then gives Girl Number 1 her choices.

Girl Number 1: “Um… I think… I think I’ll take a Margarita.”

Greasy Hipster: “Do you want salt on that?”

At this point if I had a gun I would have shot Greasy Hipster in the balls if he asked this girl one more question. I wanted to scream at him to stop giving this girl the 3rd degree and just pour Margarita in her mouth every time it hangs open when she says, “yeah… um…”. But finally Girl Number 1 pays and moves out of the way.

Girl Number 2: “Oh… Well… I guess if it’s my turn… I’ll have…”

Girl Number 1: (interrupting Girl Number 2 as she is ordering) “Should we sit inside or outside?”

Girl Number 2: “Oh… Well… How about… Yeah… I don’t care…”

Girl Number 3: “You can decide… Sure…”

Girl Number 1: “But I don’t care where we sit.”

Me: “THEN WHY DON’T YOU GO SIT ON THE MOON! OR WHY DON’T YOU DRIVE TO THE HOME OF THE POOR SMUCKS THAT BIRTHED YOU AND TORMENT THEM!!!!” (Except I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything.)

At this point I had been waiting behind these girls for exactly 14 minutes. Yeah, I had been checking my watch. Finally another Zolcalo worker walks up to the other register next to Greasy Hipster, looks at me and smiling says, “Can I help you?” I want to say, “Yes take my order and club these girls with baseball bat to benefit the future of my own sex”, but instead I just walk up to the counter and say, “Yes”.

New Zocalo Worker: “To go order right?”

In my mind I am thinking, “Wow, do I look like a pathetic loser who couldn’t possibly be meeting someone to dine in” but then I remember I am in workout shorts, one of my dad’s old undershirts, flip flops with paint stains on them, and my glasses.

Me: “Yeah, that’s right.”

New Zocalo Worker: “Your name?”

Me: “Lemon Lady and I’ll ha”

New Zocalo Worker: “Wait. What? I don’t have a Lemon Lady. We have a Beth and an Albert...”

Me: “Oh, yeah I want to place the To Go Order.”

New Zocalo Worker: “Um… I don’t understand…”

Really? What don’t you understand? You speak perfect English and you don’t look mentally challenged and you work in a restaurant. Do most people walk up to the register (which is under the big “order” sign) and want to play Scrabble with you or want to talk about the Cowboys? You have food back there somewhere and I want some, so I’m going to tell you what I want and give you money and you give me some F-ing food!!!

Me: “I want to tell you my to go order…”

New Zocalo Worker: “Yeah I can’t do that… um…”

At this point I would have probably broken down and fallen to the floor crying because all I wanted was to get my guacamole and tostada salad and run across the street for sour cream so I could get back to my house and help Gimpy Boyfriend get out of the bathtub and turn off the oven which was heating up the sandwich that was sure to be burnt to a crisp by now… But at that exact second God decided to shine down some love and Girl Number 3 walked away and Greasy Hipster turned to me and said, “I can take your order.” Those magic words kept me from causing a scene. They were like drinking a cold glass of water after running in the desert. Those words were like taking off your high heals after wearing them all day. I could breathe again.

Me: “Yes, I’ll have…”

And then I was done. He took my money and I ran to get the sour cream. When I came back my food was ready and I could go home. I spent a totally of 31 minutes trying to place an order at Zocalo and a total of 1.5 minutes buying sour cream.