This Pretty Much Sums Up My Friday...

I just need ONE f-ing idea!

I am a DEVOUT watcher of all things Bethenny Frankel. I love her and am convinced we should be best friends. Her show the other night was about her and her husband visiting the bottling factory that Skinnygirl margarita (which is revolutionized my life by the by) is produced in. As she is sitting there just staring at the bottles go by she just keeps repeating "this all happened from just ONE idea. I just had an idea, and had no idea it would grow to be this".

In between my sips of my Skinnygirl marg I was yet again reminded that I have no ideas. I also don't have the time to have ideas. So after the show was over, I sat there, eyes closed - make that clenched and thought....and thought some more...nothing...crickets. Had I had too much to drink? No. That's not it. I blame my job for making me too tired to be creative, but I'm not even sure that's accurate. Just ONE idea. That's all I need.

The snuggie? Seriously? I thought of that when I was five, just had no idea there were enough lame-o's in the world to actually buy it. The cupcake phenomenon? Really? I can TOTALLY bake a cupcake. Shamwow? Done. Over 5 MILLION people bought pet rocks. My dog could have thought of that. Yet here I sit. Idea-less.

*sigh* One idea. Just ONE.

I really wish I could drink at work....

Hey! I wonder if that counts?

My Austin Endorsement...

Over the weekend we visited Austin, Texas. While there we went to the Trailer Park Eatery (perhaps the only time in my life I'll say "I cant wait to go to the Trailer Park!").  We had Torchy's Tacos (amazing) AND cake balls at Holy Cacao. And holy hell were they good!

I had wedding balls, chocolate balls, red velvet balls, carrot cake balls. So many amazingly delicious balls. I just KEPT eating them. The flavor was unparalleled, they were so saturated (or as my friends said "moist", but I hate that word and refuse to use it).  They had other flavors (peanut butter - which looked divine) and it was all served up to you from a trailer. No overhead = more money to invest in good ingredients (no one wants dried balls).

So the next time you're in Austin, I highly recommend eating the balls at the Trailer Park...

The Perks of Being the First Person to Get to Work...

1. I get a parking spot RIGHT NEXT to the door.
2. I can talk as loud as I want - no one's here to hear me.
3. When I hit refresh on my email, there are NONE because no one else is at work.
4. I can take my shoes off (although I'm 50/50 on how I feel about this).

and last but not least...

5. I'm the FIRST person to use the potty!!!!

It's the little things....no, you know what. THIS. IS. BIG.

...I think I might go back just so I can be the second person too...

I Feel Ya Clark W. Griswold

You know that scene in Christmas Vacation where Clark Griswold opens what he thinks is his bonus check only to discover he's been enrolled in the jelly of the month club? He proceeds to GO OFF on his boss using a litany of phrases and choice words.


That is EXACTLY how I feel every time some giant ignoramus driver either cuts me off, doesn't know how to merge on the highway, or pulls out in front of me and then proceeds to go 15 mph BELOW the speed limit.


The other morning when I pulled onto the street, I saw a car coming but I had MORE than enough time to pull out. However, once I did he was right on my ass and proceeded to flip me off. It wasn't even 9 am. My first inclination was to slam on my brakes, get out of my car and beat him to pulp. That would be totally irrational. So instead I just slammed on my brakes....and waved. Nothing pisses someone off more than if you wave at them as their tailgating you.  What are they gonna do? Continue to flip off a person waving at them? That's just stupid. 


And to all of those timid people who don't know how to merge on the highway, seriously just HIT THE F-ING GAS PEDAL. It's not a hard concept. I would prefer not to die on I-35 at 8 am on Tuesday. 


So to all of you bad drivers out there, I want to tell you what a....

• 
• cheap
• lying
• no-good
• rotten
• four-flushing
• low-life
• snake-licking
• dirt-eating
• inbred
• ignorant
• blood-sucking
• dog-kissing
• brainless
• dickless
• hopeless
• heartless
• fat-ass
• bug-eyed
• stiff-legged
• spotty-lipped
• worm-headed
• sack of monkey shit YOU ARE!…

I Am My Mother's Daughter

As I pulled through Sonic today for happy hour with a level of excitement that is equal to a fat kid getting a cupcake, it hit me "I am my mother". Not just similar. But her - 30 years younger....

• I get a euphoric high from saving money
• I save room at EVERY meal for dessert
• Dessert could BE the meal
• I print off coupons like it's my job
• I plan meals around what coupon I have (free chips and queso at Chili's? Don't mind if I do)
• I plan working out around hair wash days
• When I laugh I do so with my entire body - like limbs flailing, doubled over laughter
• I have a bag of m & m's at all times.

The below conversation occurred the last time my mom was in town with our dog, Hershey Kiss after I tried to give her a blue corn chip and she turned her head and walked away.

"Mom, Hershey just snubbed PEOPLE food"
"She doesn't like blue corn."
"You're kidding me."
"No, she's watching her figure."
"You're ridiculous."
"She has to maintain her figure for the boys."

Someone said to me the other day "I bet your mother is more sane than you are though".

I assure you...she is not.

My Biggest Fear - BUTTONS

Growing up I wore uniforms in school. Everyday when I got home I'd do airplane arms and have my babysitter or mother unbutton my shirt. The thought of touching them would make me cry. 

It was all I could do getting through the day without touching them. Or getting them wet. God forbid I spilled my drink on them.

                                               

                                                              NOT ok

When my school switched to the option of wearing the button down OR the school provided t-shirt I wore that t-shirt EVERYDAY. T-shirt all the way. 

In my last job I dealt with men's dress shirts. With certain vendors we could pick the buttons. Oh. My. Gosh. My own personal version of hell. Buttons would arrive at the office and I could feel the sweat beads forming on my head. Please, do NOT make me touch them. My boss used to threaten to hold a button up to my lip (if it's cool then it's mother of pearl and not plastic), it nearly did me in. I had a vendor who would routinely call me to discuss the buttons and I would routinely tell him to not call me about the buttons. Under no circumstance did I want to talk about them. 

I always thought I'd grow out of my fear of buttons. But here I am, nearly 25 and still not wearin em. I have one shirt in my closet with buttons...and in my closet it sits. It's no longer appropriate for me to do airplane arms, my boyfriend already thinks I'm strange enough. 

If you're wondering WHY I'm afraid of buttons, join the club. However, on the list of things for me to work through in therapy buttons is actually fairly low on the list. So, I think buttons may remain the great mystery of my life. 

OK

 However, someone told me the other day they're afraid of baby seals. What a weirdo.