You Turn The Screws, It's What You Choose To Do...

(FYI - I’ve decided that I need to start documenting my memories just in case I get Alzheimer’s disease/or I just plain start forgetting stuff as time goes on.)



This is 21-year-old me trying to make bangs work even back then. Didn't work then, still doesn't work now. *Shakes head*

When I turned 21 we took trip to Vegas! Woooohooo! Party! Best Trip Ever!! Right?!?! Uh, yeah, nope. If there ever was a cursed, ill-fated, lametastic trip to Las Vegas award then this one would have been a shoo in for First Prize!



Let me set the scene. Let’s go way back in the day to the early 2000s. My 21st birthday was finally upon me I was going to head straight down to Vegas and live it up! And by live it up, I really meant do some gambling with a drink or two here or there, maybe dance at a Vegas hotspot or two, but mostly GO SHOPPING!!!


Musically, it was the time of Rob Thomas & Santana with Smooth, and the days of Blink 182 with All the Small Things, Destiny’s Child with Say My Name, and of course Eminem with The Real Slim Shady. Oh and who could forget The Thong Song courtesy of Sisqo “ She had dumps like a truck, truck, truck…”.This was the type of stuff getting airplay at the time. Although, pretty much the whole drive there we listened to a lot of Cake.



It was a group of just girls, no one over 22 with one 18-year-old ball & chain. Just us and the open road from our home in innocent Salt Lake City all the way to Sin City Nevada. And my friends had all offered to drive so I didn’t even have to take my car. Score!



I have full on travel window video to this song through the canyon in Arizona. Oh yeah! Oh and if you decide to read this whole post you can totally play this song the whole time as it was the theme song of the trip.


Our adventure began at the now shut down and imploded Stardust Casino and Hotel. It was roasty-toasty-sunshiney and hot in Vegas and we were happily checked in (squeely and lamely filled with excitement at the weekend in store for us) and headed to our room.



And it was all good until we got there. Where mind you, it turned out to be one king size bed and not the two we had requested online and well, there were no other rooms available. And, no, they didn’t have any rollaway beds – sorry bitches. Now immediately there are several catty /bitchy/whiney disagreements over who is sleeping in the bed. This resulted in me, being a lover and not a fighter, sleeping in two chairs pushed together on my birthday weekend. Where in the hell was my backbone? I don’t think I grew one until at least age 27. Oh, did I mention our AC was also not working? This enhanced the UFC-like environment in our room. After the maintenance man came to work on it for the 4th time we just gave up and moved to the acceptance phase that our room would be a hellish inferno.



Well, what does one do when they are chillaxing in a hellish inferno? They go and buy alcohol of course! So I pranced down to the hotel gift shop/store with my best friend D. After way too much time perusing our options we settled on a big ol’ case of Pina Colota Wine Coolers. Oh yes, we were very classy and well, had no idea what we were doing when it came to drinking. So we thought this to be an excellent beverage of choice. We plopped them up on the counter and I pulled up my wallet to pay, very excited to present my ID for the first time as an adult. The old lady at the counter, who was smoking a cigarette, talking on her cell phone, and literally had curlers in her hair, just rang up our stuff, took our money and shooed us out the door without carding either one of us! And, back then I swear to you, we probably looked to be about 16-years–old back then. All we could think of on the walk back to our room was that we must be old hags now. Sayonara youth!

Since we had the 18-year-old girl with us we decided not to go to any clubs/bars since she could not get in. And since we were youngins well, we didn’t really know what we were missing. Nobody really cared. So we went out with the camcorder and decided to make a bit of a documentary with each and every sight to see in Vegas on the strip. You know, the Treasure Island Show, The Volcano exploding on the strip, every bit of the New York New York casino, the grass/bush bikes at the Harley Davidson joint, all of it. And not much of the more important stuff, uh, us. Duh. I mean we were in it here and there, but it was mostly full of the sights and lights. Lame now that all of us have been to Vegas many times, but now we are no longer 21-year-old spring chickens.


After about 7-hours of walking and all of the wine coolers long gone we decided to go back to the hotel. No one was drunk, no one was even close to drunk. Hello, where was the big 21st birthday party? Someone could have at least thrown up for heaven’s sake! We ordered a room service pizza, and it sucked. It was like 60% white non-cooked onion. AND no one (who all offered to drive so I wouldn’t have to) would TAKE ME SHOPPING!!! No matter how much I begged and pleaded this whole weekend.



The next day was filled with a trip to a restaurant in which my camera was lost (we went to walk out to the car and I realized I didn’t have it, we walked back in and it was not at our table. Waitress and wait staff saw nothing, yeahrightmotherfuckers) and where I learned that Chocolate Alcoholic drinks are gross and never to try them. I’d post the photos now, but oh yeah, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas when a restaurant steals your camera.



We spent the afternoon at the pool where one of the girls often commented that I looked great in my swimsuit “for someone who had a kid and could never be really skinny again”. Thanks for the ego boost homie!! Note - I weighed 124 lbs so I was basically a whale, right? And again still, no one TOOK ME SHOPPING!!!

Long story not really short, one of my friends spent the most of the weekend calling our customer line at work to try and get the Mormon guy she liked on the phone, I was on my cell with Joey and Troy crying pretty much the whole time because it sucked AND I lost my camera and I’d rather be at home for my birthday where people were nice to me/would take me shopping, my best friend and her coworker pal were arguing most of the time, this other girl took off to party with her “boyfriend’s cousin’s uncle” since we were so lame, and so it goes without speaking that it pretty much was the most awesome trip of all time.

And for the grand finale, my best friend and said coworker got in a huge fight in St. George where on the way home (Obviously, I went running like an escaped convict for the outlet stores when we stopped for gas because NO ONE HAD TAKEN ME SHOPPING!). I was pretty sure that D was going to stomp this chicky into the ground. This resulted in me grabbing our luggage (since it was the coworkers car) and wondering to myself where we could find out the prices on a flight home to good ol’ SLC & “how dangerous is hitchhiking, really?”, but eventually came to resolution with us driving home in complete silence and no glorious beat down story to tell. And my tears streamed quietly behind my sunglasses.

Moral of the story – only travel with those you know well and have a similar vision with for the trip. Mass quantities of friends of friends really don’t mix well in one place. Watch your camera closely. Put your foot down so you get what you want especially on your birthday. Oh and chocolate and alcohol go together about as good as my chichuahua and his ginger-cat-nemesis.

Oh and of course, this last thing: Ooh dat dress so scandalous...



*** Note - I am still very good friends with everyone who went on this defunct trip with the exception of the coworker of D. I don't think anyone really stayed friends with her, she was a bit of an odd duck. What can I say?

On a rainy Monday... a feeling inside me.

(for full effect feel free to play this song while reading this hear blog yo.)


Isn't it sad when people you know turn into people you knew?

As I have often said before music is definitely a gateway for me into the past. It just takes a few seconds of a song and someone whom I have not seen or spoken to in, well, years is right at the front of my mind. Silly girl, right?

I know there are a lot of other memory triggers such as foods, smells, places, etc. Some are good and some are bad. Both the pink 'Skin-So-Soft' Avon lotion AND Britney Spears 'Slave For U' take me right back to the land of morning sickness as both were things I enjoyed (read - made me puke like a spring breaker in Cancun) when preggers with my kiddo. This one hairspray and shampoo totally take me back to my Millhollow Camp trip in the 5th grade. My family's homemade salsa always reminds me of this winter vacation we took to Jackson Hole WY every single time I take a bite. See?! More than music gets to me after all!

Tonight I am thinking a bit about the people from my past that have skipped on out of here. The long lost pals I search for on the Facebook every so often. Some I lost as I entered adulthood. Some that were here a while longer. What scares me is I probably have walked right past some of these peeps over the years, and well as much as we used to share our lives, not even noticed them.

Here's to all the long losties. To the friends who live out on the east coast and never text or call me, to the pal I haven't seen (and have been searching for) since my wedding in Vegas, to the sociopath-musician, to my first best guy friend from high school who said you were just using me for my car, to Toni the Brazilian lady who used to work graveyards with me (I miss you and your complaining). As much as I'd like to find some of you and also could stand to forget a few of you too, there will probably always be something left here to remind me. Thanks a lot, brain.

Got a Nasty Habit Called Rock n Roll.

So last night we watched the movie Sid & Nancy.



Two things - A) How did we not see this movie before? B) I didn’t realize, until now obviously, that Courtney Love (she did not play Nancy - fyi) was old enough to be in movies made in 1986. I mean, it all makes sense in my head now, but it didn’t seem possible when I saw her in the first few scenes. But yep, twas Ms. Love after all acting as Nancy’s bestie.

Of course I dreamed of Sid Vicious and his beloved Nancy all night long after watching said movie. The dream also included an old Sid (whom I never actually saw in the dream) that was not dead and called my dad all the time wanting to be friends, but that is neither here nor there. However, this has obviously sparked my curious side and I’ve been reading up on this duo. Also, I am working on some Sid & Nancy Halloween costume ideas. I was hoping to be Nancy, but I can be flexible.



For those of you who are not familiar with Sid Vicious he was the bass player for the Sex Pistols in the 70s. If you’re not privy to the Pistols they were an influential punk band from the UK that is often credited with contributing to the birth of punk rock music. Apparently, he wasn't an uber talented bass player, but did well enough to get by. He was highly emotional and basically a super dramatic person. So long story short, just about everyone who works in a call center has a bit of Sid Vicious in their personality I'd reckon.

I have to mention that punk was so insanely cool back then. Such good music. Such an experience to be at those shows I'd imagine. Also, I was just loving the fashion completely. This movie was oozing with awesome clothes and made me want to dig out my fishnets (which I must admit I have in yellow, pink, and nude in addition to the staple black). They are surprisingly fun to mix in with business casual wear and you can totally pull it off for work if done right. Sorry about the tangent, but hey, I am me.



As for Nancy, she was Sid's woman. She was an American girl. She was very young. She was nuts. They had a passionate, yet totally insane, relationship and were definitely the perfect couple. They both were compeletly strung out on drugs. And they wasted what could have been a pretty badass life together being soul mates and all. Before Sid, Nancy dated (or pursued/did) a handful of famous rockers, toured with Aerosmith, etc. OK, so she pretty much was a groupie to begin with.

Obviously, this ends tragically with Nancy stabbed to death by Sid when she was 20-years old. Five months later Sid overdosed on heroin at age 21. And here I am more than 30-years later reading up on people who died before I was even born. If you're not busy check out the movie on netflix yo.

In the words of Alkaline Trio - Live Young, Die Fast.

Ever Wonder If It's All For You?

There are so many times in any given day that I am suddenly stunned by something little. And as messed up as this planet is I am mesmerized by the accomplishments of mankind. Things like the the internet, building construction, Cheetos - you name it, as I get thinking of "the big picture" it just blows my mind.

This of course caused my mind to randomly wander about how random my wandering mind really is. So for the last 24-hours I wrote down everything that I googled. I mean, because I have so much (insert sarcasm here) time on my hands, I don't know what to do with it all.



My first search of the day was about asparagus and specifically why it makes pee so wonderfully scented. This thought was sparked by the Lean Cuisine meal I was putting in my little work fridge. Now, I'm not completely clueless I know it has to do with something about the chemical breakdown during digestion, but that is just weird because it happens so fast. It seems to me that our pal asparagus must be the fastest digested vegetable on the planet yo. Anyways, long story short - asparagus contains a sulfur-containing compound identified by scientists as methyl mercaptan. That's about it. OK, so this may not have been my most useful or entertaining search o' the day, but it is what it is.



So I read on Twittah that they're looking to make a movie about the 60s actress Sharon Tate and her murder, I think. Anyways, this resulted in me reading over an hour about her life and how she was killed by Charles Manson's Family. This was seriously some creepy/brutal/sad shit. And holy crap, some of these murderous cult members were so young it was really awful. Yet, fascinating. I've got a bit of a love of the murder mystery/forensic stuff, like really bad. I'm pretty much familiar with most of the famous murder cases. This probably makes me a creepy weirdoface, and for that I am sorry, but not really.

If you're interested in this chica and this story check it out here, like I did.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sharon_Tate




The next thing that crossed my nutso mind was Anthony Kiedis. This was caused by the fact that his song was a'playin in my car. This got me wondering how old he is. I figured dude is about 43-44ish. Yeah, that sounds right.... Uh, nope. Homeboy is 48! He is only one year younger than my MOM. Ha! Whaddya know?! Oh well, Red Hot Chili Peppers is still one of my top shows that I've ever been lucky enough to go to. Insanely good, well written tunes. Life changing type of music really. Doesn't matter if the guy is parental age, he's one awesome mofo.



So I was on the phone with The Most Important Person In My Life and we got to talking about natural cures to illness. This being because they woke up with a headache and sore neck. Of course the first conclusion, as always, is... MENINGITIS! It was more likely Strep Throat or something of the like, but there is nothing like the horrific fear of a case of Spinal Meningitis. Anyways, I digress... So too much backstory short, I mentioned that I was pretty sure that some sort of antibiotic/antiseptic properties had been officially proven about garlic. Jerkface replied with, "Ehh... I don't know. Guess I will have to look that one up." Well, of course it is far more important to be right than to be happy always so I had to search that shit ASAP. Anyway, the verdict is as follows: In test tube studies, garlic has been found to have antibacterial, antiviral, and antifungal activity. Thank you Wikipedia. Good enough, not exactly science, but whateves. Point made.



Adrian Grenier has a band, and well, I get curious when Actors move over to the Music world, so I got to wondering about this band that he has. Maybe they have a show or something coming up that me and the girls could go to. So as googlemaster I went ahead and looked 'em up. They're called The Honey Brothers. They sound kind of like some dudes hanging out, drinking some beers, and rockin out - fer fun. I might just bet that this is exactly how this went down. No shows coming up, not really any tunes I'd wanna download/pay actual money for. But, hey, if ya didn't know, now ya know. And there's not really much to know.



Next, I googled the scariest thing of all... ME. As weird and uncomfortable as it may be, I recommend googling your bad self. Right now, not too much comes up about me. Some 1/2 Marathons and 5k races I ran (with less than desirable finish times) are there. My LinkedIn profile, some other chicky with my same name's Facebook. A Flickr account that I now have privatized thanks to today's searchy action. And that's about it. Now, as soon as I add in my maiden name a lot more stuff (like things I commented on Facebook crap with) shows its embarrassing face. BUT, this means my employees/coworkers are less likely to find it which is somewhat relieving. Sorta. Anyways, rule of thumb, what goes on ze internet likes to stay on ze internet.



So now for the last of the personal things I searched (work related stuff such as Employee Retention is obviously far too riveting for this here blog bloggy blog) was for a Rolling Stone Article on the last days of Kurt Cobain. It was a total reminder of what an influence Nirvana was on me as a kid. And it added to my worry about my sister and brother-in-law who have decided to seriously screw their life up with drugs.

"Its better to burn out than fade away." - Kurt Cobain

If you're interested this was an entertaining read.
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/kurt-cobains-downward-spiral-rolling-stones-1994-feature-20110405

Anyway, at the end of the day there are just too many things that fascinate me such as Identical Twins, Genetic Traits, the history of Language, and the origin of Churros. It sure is nice to live in an age where all of this info is just waiting at our finger tips.

This song, mildly inspired by my searching, really sums that fascination for me. (Please forgive the slightly crappy audio. It was either this one, or the one with the Ad.)

Well is it me? Or can it be I'm a little too friendly?

"So to speak, hypothetically..."



Apparently I am having a 7th grade flashback. All I can see are uber baggy jeans/over-alls and the cute girls from TLC. Well, and that horrible haircut (read: "hand him his receipt" - this is whole other story best saved for a later date) that I had to start Junior High with. Obviously life ruining when you're a 12-year old.


(Note - This was NOT a good look for me, at all.)

This dang song (What About Your Friends) has been stuck in my dang head all dang morning and I don't have a dang idea why. It's a song about knowing who your real, true friends are, and knowing who is out to betray you/be friends with you when it's convenient for them. And currently, it's a bitch of an earworm for me.

Obviously, this has me thinking about *my* friends and what kind of friend I am. And what kind of friend I really want to be. That got me thinking about the different types of friends I have. Now, you can't bucket everyone so to speak, but there are certain pals we all met different ways and bring different things to our lives.



I was going to come up with some categories of friends that we can all relate to and probably all have. But then, honestly, that felt like way too much work. I just realized that I am lucky to have friends of all types - concert friends, running friends, lunch date friends, far away friends and local friends....and a lot more really.

And what is cool is that the relationship I share with each of these peeps is unique. Some of us have tons in common, and some of us have nothing in common, but have the right opposites to balance each other out.

So here's to each of them, from my friends in Australia who from one tweet can tell when something is wrong with me and have my back from a billion miles away, to my best friends who were there at the hospital when I had my babies and even earlier in life comforted me by telling me that I would definitely grow boobs, one day.



(This is just a sample of my cool peeps, there are many more not pictured. Sorry dudes, I'm lazy yo.)

Thanks homies for being there. I only hope that I can bring to your world a bit of what you give me every single day.

Time Can't Erase A Feeling This Strong...

(Note - this bottom pic isn't really that old, I just took a picture of it on the wall with my phone.)


Last Thursday night I was watching old home videos. Ever since last Thursday I have been filled with dread. The dang kids are growing up and I am powerless to stop it!

Now it is gonna sound like pure insanity, but there are times when I wish we could go back to those moments when they were so little, so sweet, and such a pain in the ass to take care of. Yes, to the days of diapers, and bottles, and not being able to do one single fun thing I want to with my pals unless I'm dragging along a car seat.

I often brag it up that I will have grown kids by 40. However, I'm starting to wonder if that is all it's cracked up to be... I will be the first of my friends to have a kid drive, to move out (possibly), and all the other firsts that are less than fun.

Although, as sad as it is that they have to grow up they are indeed growing up into the most amazing people. Thing 2 is super creative and obsessed with all things monkey. He recently wrote and illustrated an entire notebook full of monkey stories to include titles such as 'The Monkey Planet' and 'Monkeys Join The Army'. And Thing 1 is an outstanding baseball player. He is so good he just may be able to take care of his parents if he chose a career in MLB.

It's just those moments when I realize there is nothing I can do to stall time, the moments when they do some awesome new thing I never knew they were capable of - those are the moments that are bittersweet. I am so proud of them every second of every single day.

I just really wish I could hit the pause button, if only for tonight.

Let the fear take the wheel and steer.

I'm 15-years-old. I'm behind the wheel of a Ford Escort, a late 80s model with zero power steering. The (still alive) Notorious B.I.G. is rapping "believe me sweetie, I got enough to feed the needy" on the CD player. And I'm out on a date with my high school boyfriend Joel. He has decided that tonight's the night. It's time for me to learn how to...drive.

Upon finding out that neither of my parents had in any way, shape, or form given me any chance to learn how to master a vehicle, it then became his mission to make me into a skilled drivin' pro. He had no idea of what a pain in the ass I can be. I dare say he probably had a good idea later on in life, but hey, that's not the story at hand.

Our driving course of choice was the parking lot at the Jordan River Parkway and of course it's at least 11pm at night. We had bellies full of French Dips and Pepsi from the Scone Cutter restaurant. In our eyes, the night was still very young.

2-hours later we were both convinced that I had no hand/eye coordination and that we should come up with some scheme to become rich enough to afford a driver. There were a lot of laughs, maybe a few tears (cars without power steering were from hell), and I ran over my very first sidewalk.

Eventually (months later), we were able to accomplish the goal of me being a decent enough driver to get by in Driver's Ed class. And my teacher may or may not have had to tell me (multiple times) to "look at the road!!" instead of the ducks on 'Duck Road' during my first few drives out with class, but eventually I was able to get my license without any problems.

It's funny though, anytime I hear this song, I'm a kid again, just learning to drive, and I'm full of hope for what the future has to hold. Thanks Biggie Smalls.

Innocence Is Out Of Style

Up until now I was a root canal virgin.

I'm no saint. I've had my fair share of fillings over the years since having two kids suck the calcium from me to create their little bones. And the jerkos don't appreciate it one bit, but hey, that's neither here nor there. However, back to the story at hand, I've never needed any serious dental work... until this week.

This is all because my last dentist TRIED TO DROWN ME!

Flashback, it's late 2009. I'm the lucky one getting a filling. Not a little one, but a semi-serious one with some drillage involved. I'm in the chair with my young(mid-30s I'd guess) dentist working away. And it hurt bad. Like a mofo. Also the assistant is standing there and is pouring water into my face and I'm choking on some sort of bite block.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

That's me telling them "Hey dudes, I'm freakin' drowning. Hello, can you help me?" No response.

TAP! TAP! TAP!

By now I'm kind of coughing/choking/turning blue. If I'd have had the ability to speak I would have said "HEEEEEY! I'm dying here assfaces!!"

And to which the reply is, just hang in there we're almost done. And by almost done they mean about 15-more minutes. I start seriously thinking about what would happen if I were to die right there in the dentist chair. Would Joey raise the kids well? Would they be addicted to Xbox Live and eat horrible food their whole lives? Would anyone ever bathe the dog or feed the fish?

Anyway, by some miracle I survive. Then they proceed to tell me that I have one last cavity to fill. It's kind of bad, but not a root canal - yet. If we fill it up soon. So I schedule that next appointment.

Well as it gets closer, I don't wanna go. I'm not exactly jumping for joy to go get drowned by the dude who looks a lot like this guy at work who a week before I'd written up for reading gross pervy questions on an answers site on the Internet while on the clock. Nope. So I reschedule. Then I reschedule again. Then I cancel. I. JUST. CAN'T. GO.

So, a little time goes by. OK, a LOT of time goes by.

Flash forward to February 2011. And I'm eating some popcorn at work. And of course daily I have to floss out the neat little cavern in my tooth that I keep really clean all the time. But it aint no thang. I can live with it. And hey lucky me, it never hurts. Until that day. I go to suck a little tiny popcorn morsel out and BAM! Agony. I swear I felt my head THUMP. It was horrible. Insta-pain 2011. It was a horrible festival of toothache and I was at the main attraction. Holy crap!

So I had no choice but to call the Satan-dentist to schedule an appointment. When I told the lady who ansered my name all she said was "Oh." And then proceeded to tell me that Joey had canceled 2 appointments in 2010 and with the 'past history' (my reschedule/cancel) they would no longer see us. And, while we were at it we owed them $17. So I pay the harlot the 17 bucks, hang up, and googled another dentist. I'd been dental-dumped on Valentine's Day. Bastards!

Well mercifully, I find a dentist (by my house - score!) that can get me in the next day. By this time I am carrying a bottle of Anbesol and a bottle of Ibuprofen with me every place I go. Beggars can't be choosers, so I am taking the first place that answered the phone and making them my new dentist.

Long story short. At the new dentist I get an amazing cleaning. The shots don't hurt (thanks to topical meds first) and then I had some fantastical laughing gas that made the entire half-a-root-canal process easy like Sunday morning. While I was waiting for the shots to kick in the nitrous oxide they'd given me did have me thinking that a "Beef" commercial I was watching on the TV on the ceiling was academy award worthy though. It's What's For Dinner, yo. It was AWESOME!

Now, I am on some antibiotics because my popcorn stint irritated the tooth so badly that I need some meds. And I've got a temporary filling now. They gave me some lortab to help with any pain. Which by the way gave me some insane dreaming that I wasn't asleep dreams (that's a whole other blog in itself) that were CRA to the ZY! It was like 'Inception' only less cool and at my house.

I have to go back on March 7th to finish up the process. And guess what? I'm not afraid! It doesn't have to be dentist chair o' death if you go to the right place.

So the moral of this story is that if something sucks, it really might not just be that you're a pansy. It can mean someone else is just a douche and it's not your fault. Don't let fear keep you from something you need. It's just not worth it!

Say It Aint So

I am a Utah Jazz fan. Our family has season tickets. Oldest kid was born during a Jazz game (that I was wanting to watch, even in labor). I wear a Jazz lanyard to hold my work badge each day.

And yesterday, my heart was broken. Yesterday Coach Sloan resigned as head coach of the Utah Jazz.

He's been the coach since I was a little kid no older than my youngest monster. Now, if you know me, then you know I am pretty much a super girly girl. I aint gonna lie, I'm a pansy. However, I follow basketball. And without Jerry Sloan in the NBA the world has changed.

His job was to win. And, he did his job well.

...and some Jelly Rolls.

Ever google the lyrics to your favorite (of the moment) song and find out that you've been singing along all wrong? Feel the flush of lameness fill your face? Oh, me neither, never happens to me. I am the queen of non-mishearing most definitely.

Gone away are the days where we bought CDs (flashback to me reading the inside of my Janet Jackson "Janet" CD and dying over the words in the song "If" and my Aunt Cindy telling my grandma that someone needed to take that CD away from me. NOW!) and were able to open the cover and finally descipher what ever piece of a song we were just mumbling through.

So the other day I was listening to the song "Power" by Kanye West. Wait!! Don't unfriend or unfollow me. It's catchy, I can't help it. And there is a line in it where Kayne says "...with some light skinned girls and some Kelly Rowlands." Well, I might have thought, the first few times I heard it, that he said "...with some light skinned girls and some Jelly Rolls." Maybe. Hey, he could really like Jelly Rolls, I mean they look tasty, no? If you should ever take a listen (about 49 secs in) you gotta tell me if you think it sounds like Jelly Rolls to you too.



Anyway, that got my nerd self thinking about other misheard-by-moi songs that have happened over the years.

Muse - Time Is Running Out

C heard lyric - "Now that you know I'm trapped, since ovulation. You'd never think of breaking this fixation"

Real lyric - " Now that you know I'm trapped, sense of elation. You'd never think of breaking this fixation"


Red Hot Chili Peppers - Give It Away Now

C heard lyric (take pity, I was a child) - "Bob Marley, rollin in a bucket"

Real Lyric - "Bob Marley, poet and a prophet"


Oh, and my mom once misheard Mariah Carey's "My All" as "My Arm", now that was seriously some humor action right there. Hee hee. Anyway, well I probably have a lot more misheard songs, but off the top of my head, that's all that I've got. If you have any misheard song stories I wanna hear em yo.

"Over and out," she said...

My sister's birthday was last week. I didn't get to see her. She is 28.

This makes me think back to my own birthday. During the family dinner at my mom's my sister decided to throw a bitch-fit, and lucky me - I was her target. It was seemingly random and out of nowhere. In retrospect it all makes sense. Anyway, so my dad ended up leaving, probably because he is a lot like me and well, when shit gets tough I'm usually hit with an overwhelming desire to run away. And then I was left to serve everyone cake (since I am the family cake-serving-wench) with tears in my eyes. Happy Birthday to me.

Even with that said, I still really miss her. I wish I'd have been with her on her birthday.

Hopefully, she decides she's sick of being insane/stupid/crazy/lame and gets her life back together. I'd probably still even want to be friends with her mean ass.

Let this candle burn 'til you get home
Never forget your face, never lose hope.
Tonight...

Half A Life

I didn't set any official resolutions, well aside from the typical "stop eating like crap, go to the gym, care about your health" junk, however I have set a personal goal to spend more time with my friends. I miss them. A lot. We've all gotten busy in our own worlds and well, life keeps ramblin' on.

So I'm setting up plans, accepting more invites, and even though I pretty much already never have a free momement between work and my family - I'm going to start having more of a social life! Because dammit, I'm not getting any younger. Although, left to my own accord I am capable of getting plumper. Which may have something to do with the fact that when I'm home I really enjoy baking with my boys, but whatever.

And maybe a piece of this need to spend more time with my friends is part of my quest to not act like an old person. I am not worried about my age, most of my friends are around the same or just a bit younger, but it's more about not missing out on life. And about not putting labels on something as not for me just because teenagers like it, or because my mom likes it.

I think this goal comes down to I just want to live. And live well.

So if you've heard me suggest we take that Oil Painting class, prepare for me to hit you up with a date it starts. Or if I am always saying we should do lunch, prepare for my text with a date suggesting a time and a place to meet up.

Because I'm sick of watching life from the nosebleed seats.





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We All Shine On...

Sometimes when you think a problem will just work itself out, it does. And then sometimes, it just gets a whole lot worse instead. This is one of those things that just got worse.

My little sister is a zombie in a body
with no soul a role she has learned to play
In a world today where nothing else matters
But it matters


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I was once totally "Me vs Maradona vs Elvis"-ed...

Sometimes in life, or you realize it later in life, that there are just some songs that are so scarily fitting to what you're going through. Well, you realize these things if you're me at least.

I am the girl who always (when you share your love or life story) knows a song that fits it that "you just gotta listen to". I am the person that is suddenly caught off guard by music. I'm the one given the chills when driving my car, suddenly moved to tears by a song I've listened to a thousand times without that reaction. I am a songwriter's dream come true. I'm also a sucker, and a lame, and all of the things you'd call someone who takes music WAAAAAAAAAAAY too seriously.

Anyway, I'm thinking about music tonight while waiting for the punk ass children to fall asleep so that Santa can make a visit. And was struck with the fact that a Brand New song completely fits this one random November night years ago I spent with people I'm not even friends with anymore.

And tonight, this is the song I think I will learn how to play.


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Link it to yourself, link it to the world.

I am a brown girl. Well, at least at face value.

"So, what ethnicity are you?" This is something that I am often asked. Now, in the hayday of ol' Kim Kardashian, I've also been asked a few times lately if I am Armenian. No, I'm not.

At a very basic level, my mother is of Mexican decent, although she may tell you some Egyptian story - I don't know about that that, and my father is white, the basic European mixture.

"So, what are you?" Answering that question is difficult for me.

My mother, she's pretty and a lovely brown. That being the case her genes were pretty dominate and my siblings and I are more on the hispanic looking side. However, when I reply to someone that I am of Hispanic ethnicity, I don't feel that answer alone suffices. I am also half white. If I don't mention it then I feel that I am denying my daddy. But because I don't really look all that white does it seem to people that I am trying to claim to be something that I am not? If I were to answer that I am white everyone would look at me like I'm nutso. And obviously, that's the wrong answer too.

Most of the times I just feel like, well me. I don't think a lot about ethnicity. I am a woman, a mother, a friend, a boss, a person. And that is about as far as it goes most days. Then someone randomly refers to me as a senorita. And I remeber, oh yeah, I'm brown.

As I've matured and grown over time I've learned to appreciate the qualities and benefits to being of multiple decent. And it really doesn't matter all that much to me what people think. But when asked that question I have to acknowledge both of the sides of me, not to provide clarity, but to claim that I belong to both of the people I am lucky enough to call my parents.