tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67300655040398057252024-03-14T03:40:31.265-06:00A Lily LifeThe thoughts and views of a creative and sometimes eccentric 20-something female as I explore the world and embrace a healthy, juicy life and all that it has to offer.Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-20750493030909898502011-08-04T14:47:00.000-06:002011-08-04T14:47:08.730-06:004 Days in....I got the best email from my close friend, lady Jen, who some of you may remember from the <a href="http://alilylife.blogspot.com/2010/07/blame-it-on-booze-blame-it-on-jenny.html">Booze Bouncing story</a>. She's saying goodbye to the cold and lonely life of Wyoming for a Key West. I'm so <strike>jealous</strike> excited for her (okay and for my new vaca spot). Four days into their moving process I got the following recap so far, laughed so hard I choked a bit and decided I had to share...<br />
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"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">We've made it as far as Austin, Tx. Here's a little recap for your pleasure...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Day 1: Cleaned house and struggled fitting everything into one vehicle, spent too much time with family, made it to Limon at 4 in the morning. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Day 2: Amarillo, TX for A's attempt at the 72 oz steak at the Big Texan. 38.9 oz left. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Day 3: 1 hour south of Amarillo and the car needs a new water pump and fan clutch. 9 hours later, on the road again. 1 hour after that, cat poops, lays in it, and jumps to the front seat, smacking his poop-covered tail in A's face. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Day 4: (early morning) Exhausted, find the first motel we see. Woken by "man screams" 1 1/2 hours later as A hops around the room, ripping off his shirt. Cockroach. In his shirt. Turn the lights on: Cockroaches on the tv, nightstand, headboard, mattress, wall, bathroom. Leave motel on a cockroach high, make it to Austin. Pay the money for a NICE motel. Ahhhh. Spend the day sleeping and visiting with TT. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;">Day 5: At this point, ANYTHING could happen!! ;)"</span>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-67317863623990553542011-08-03T12:01:00.000-06:002011-08-03T12:01:49.615-06:00I may be a Mess, but I'm a Brilliant F***ing Mess<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8icxUFX-pYc/TjmM84vYxlI/AAAAAAAAAes/LZI0mxh7WZM/s1600/mess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8icxUFX-pYc/TjmM84vYxlI/AAAAAAAAAes/LZI0mxh7WZM/s320/mess.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The first step is acceptance. Check. I’m there. I’m a freaking mess. Okay, this really isn’t news to me. I may be a mess, but I’m a brilliant one with all the lustrousness and great talent that brilliant messes are. Hear is a little insight into the disorder that is uniquely me.<br />
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1. The battery in my fobber to unlock my car has been dead for like a year. I’m too damn lazy to change the thing so I use the key. Nevermind that the stupid alarm goes off every time I get into the car. Last winter when I rushed out to the car after work and was trying to jam the key into the ignition to stop the blasting horn when I slipped on the ice and wound up with my head stuck below steering wheel my feet half under the car and my dress up around my boobs with half the college hockey team that practice across the street watching me.p(Side note: still haven’t changed that battery.)<br />
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2. When the MSNBC was broadcasting live from my company’s parking lot during the Democratic National Convention and as one of the company’s PR people I was lucky enough to get to climb up on the double decker stage to check out the setting. Only my illustrious self could somehow manage to step too close to a sharp edge by the stairs, that was attracted to back of my pants and rip the entire ass out of my pants to show all of the VPs, CEO and half of the NBC crew my purple thong. Okay and my ass. <br />
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3. <a href="http://alilylife.blogspot.com/2010/08/time-i-woke-up-on-floor.html">That time I woke up on the floor</a>. <br />
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And finally… At 10:47 this morning I realized that my damn dress was on backwards when I looked down and could see the tag sticking up between my cleavage. Awesome. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>What is your brilliance?</i></b></div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-6078216352353658982010-12-22T23:26:00.000-07:002010-12-22T23:26:41.865-07:00The things I love, The things I hate,Hello my favorite elves and sugarplums! How I have missed you! I promise in the next few days and weeks I'll let you in on the craziness that has been my life. Ever feel like you are rooted up and dumped in a new spot? That's been me. After time and thoughts I'm coming to peace. I promise to share all. The good. The bad. The worst. The light. But today I feel like sharing a little of me in the now rather than what brought me to now. So here it is 3 things I'm hating and 3 things I'm loving.<br />
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<b>3 Things I'm Hating</b><br />
1. Those 40+ hairs that I accidentally fried off while round brushing my hair last month. Those mutinous bastards are sticking straight up any more on my forehead aka Something About Mary style. Yeah. That's just awesome.<br />
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2. I'm hating people who think only of themselves at Christmas. It was once my favorite holiday and honestly I carry around cash just to stuff in the red buckets of bell rings. The moment you make a difference in anyone's life means a lot to me and the fact that they will never know means the most. So to all those people who bitch about how Christmas time is to stressful, open your eyes. This isn't about you. Open your heart.<br />
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3. No snow. It's Christmas time in Colorado and down in the metro Denver area we've seen as little white as a Hilton sister wedding. Nilche. I miss the snow.<br />
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<b>3 Things I Love Right Now</b><br />
1. I'm loving this Barbie. Maybe it's a little Dexter meets Oxygen Networks Snapped, but way to take control Barbie! Check out the little poochie in the corner just staring at headless Ken.<br />
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2. The text I got from my girls today who recently moved to the Lonestar state. "Hey girl I miss ya!" That's the type of thing that makes me smile for a random instant in the day. Big mental hug to one of my besties. Hope she felt it. <br />
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3. And I'm a country girl no matter where I go in life so a little country music makes me happy. At this moment I'm smiling to a little Blake Shelton's Who Are You When I'm Not Looking on repeat.<br />
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What are you loving (or hating) right now?Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-32570312006266114862010-09-14T09:47:00.000-06:002010-09-14T09:47:34.874-06:0027 may have a bite, but hey, I've got teeth too.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TI-Yri_q6XI/AAAAAAAAAcc/GJf4GRqYzkk/s1600/24695_10150165375420341_509545340_12170455_7589864_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TI-Yri_q6XI/AAAAAAAAAcc/GJf4GRqYzkk/s320/24695_10150165375420341_509545340_12170455_7589864_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve been absent. My blogging buddies as we all know absent bloggers often mean something big is happening in our lives or a few somethings big. In my case it is the later. Big, I mean BIG things are happening in my little corner of the world. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As all of you know <a href="http://alilylife.blogspot.com/2010/08/sitting-with-my-head-in-paper-bag.html">I took turning 27 a little hard</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was panicking with my “what the hell have I done with my life?” and my 20s are just seeping away like a bottle of tequila on margarita Monday in a sorority house. A strange thing happened when the actual birthday came. I was perfectly calm and unaffected. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m convinced it was due to my new plan to grapple with that bitch 27, and I’m not above pulling hair or eye gauging in this case. After the initial calm 27 poked her catty head in the door, snickered at me and with the wrathful indifference only she can have threw up all kinds of suckiness on my new comfy pillow top couch and my life. Hello bad news and angry feeling. Make yourself at home. So yeah, round 1 went to 27. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But despite the crap she brought in her wake I'm coming out the winner. 27 is going down. I've come up screaming, gasping for air and fists swinging. One month in and volatile 27 is vacuuming up my living room and tipping her head to me. And maybe we will one day be friends. Maybe. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m taking that step I whined so much while tucking my head in between my knees because 26 was panicking about coming to an end. 27 seems to be respecting that as she snidely remarks "It's about damn time. That cowering whiner isn't you." I'm taking all the crap 27 brought in on her arrival in stride and stomping the hell out of it when it peeks at me in a manner other than meekly. And in the mists of all of this there was that step I'm taking that will make an exciting change for the better. The BIG change for the good that is exciting, slightly nerve racking because of the constant talk of economic issues, but exciting none the less. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What BIG thing are you making happen?</div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-84539885359002205192010-08-19T13:03:00.000-06:002010-08-19T13:03:42.460-06:00The time I woke up on the floor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TG1_0BPO-nI/AAAAAAAAAcE/L6Zeq-Cgh10/s1600/WomanFallsDM_228x357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TG1_0BPO-nI/AAAAAAAAAcE/L6Zeq-Cgh10/s320/WomanFallsDM_228x357.jpg" /></a></div>Let me preface this post by saying that, surprisingly enough, this incident wasn’t caused by alcohol. Oh there was alcohol in my system, but that was decidedly not the culprit that led me to wake up on the floor.<br />
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Last night I decided I seriously needed to relax, especially since my back muscles were still incredibly sore from my lovely <a href="http://alilylife.blogspot.com/2010/08/hump-day-get-over-it_18.html">episode with the masochistic masseur</a>. I’m a big fan of Absorbine. I use it all the time when boarding for days in a row to keep my muscles from knotting up and cutting short my next day shredding the mountain. (BTW – It’s a topical anesthetic that relieve sore muscles) And of course I don’t use the Absorbine Jr. you can find in the pharmacy. Nope that stuffs for wimps. If you’re going to use it you might as well get the full strength stuff that they sell at the feed store and use on horses. I swear it’s perfectly safe.<br />
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In happy anticipation of relieving my battered muscles I dumped a good cup of Absorbine into the bathtub, filled it up and settled in for a good soak with a glass of wine and a book. For good measure I squirted some on my back too to give my muscle relief plan a little jump start. After pruning myself for about an hour I was feeling nice are relaxed. Yes, my night was looking pretty good. <br />
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I hopped out, toweled off, wrapped my hair in the towel and headed into the bedroom where Oz was laying on the floor. I bent over to give his belly a quick rub and when I stood back up again my vision went wonky sort of like tunnel vision, but more like I was falling into a deep hole. Oh wait, I was falling. Next thing I know my ass is waking up on the floor and I realized holy crap! I’d just fainted! <br />
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I’ve never in my life fainted. I always thought it was some ridiculous thing people with weak constitutions did and I’m made of sterner stuff than that. Apparently not. My next thought was damn that hurt! Anything you’ve seen in the movies is a lie. When you faint you don’t gracefully crumble to the ground. You crash land with a thud and how that does instantly snap someone back to reality again I don’t know. That’s all it took for me to become coherent real quick.<br />
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And yes, my nice little Absorbine soak was at fault for my sudden inability to stay vertical. Part of why it works is because it relaxes your capillaries allowing blood to flow more freely. After bending over a standing up really quickly about 6 times in less than a minute all the blood must have been rushing in and out of my head. Oops! At least my back feels awesome today. ;)Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-24103986913026778752010-08-18T15:42:00.000-06:002010-08-18T15:42:46.078-06:00Hump Day - Get Over ItI'm completely addicted to massages. If I could get them on a regular basis I would. One of the things I loved about The Man when we got together was that he was constantly offering to give me massages. It was wonderful though now I've made him acknowledge that it was blatant false advertising since that didn't last very long past the initial trying to get in my pants phase. Anyways, I found an awesome deal on Groupon for a new place that opened up by my house and since I'm a sucker for their deals I bought one. I went into the place toting my little Groupon deal and psyched beyond belief. Big mistake!! Apparently my masseur was over giving all these damn massages by that point because it was the absolute work massage of my life. A four-year-old wacking me with a rolling pin and a wooden spoon would have felt better. The worst part - that ass actually gave me bruises on my back! I have olive skin and I don't bruise easy so here's a tip to that masseur - find a new line of work cause you suck! Here's to getting over it.<br />
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<b><i>Your Touch - The Black Keys</i></b><br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dKXlgISd3iA?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dKXlgISd3iA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-37225573413014252402010-08-16T12:14:00.000-06:002010-08-16T12:14:35.919-06:00Sitting with My Head in a Paper Bag<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TGl_gEOHOuI/AAAAAAAAAbs/jgOZNpjytfU/s1600/paperbag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TGl_gEOHOuI/AAAAAAAAAbs/jgOZNpjytfU/s320/paperbag.jpg" /></a></div>So I’m sitting here thinking about what is coming up on Friday and I’m panicking. Literally, I’m getting nervous, short of breath. Hell, I’m going to start sweating and may need to put my head between my knees and scream until my lungs are empty. I’m panicking. I have 4 more days before I reach the big <b><i>2-7</i></b>. <br />
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Okay, I know 27 isn’t typically one of those age numbers that people get worked up about, but for me it’s began to fill like this giant drop off point and there’s a big orange and white blockade with one of those incredibly bright orange rotating lights that is trying to warn me of something. Oh, that’s right. It’s warning me that my 20s are seeping away. It’s warning me that I’ve been out of college for 5 years (where the hell did that time go?) and I haven’t been to even half the places I was so eager to go and I’m standing here staring at a computer screen wondering what the hell I’m doing.<br />
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I always figured 26 would be the one that hit me in the gut. The one that said that I’m officially closer to 30 then to 21. The one that says I can’t just act like a dumb ass or screw up monumentally if I feel like it, because I’m an adult. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been fiscally responsible for myself since I was 18. Nope. Still didn’t feel like an adult then, just a teenage with a lot of life pressure and bills. <br />
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To squelch my panic-ridden-aging-self, I’m taking another step. In truth, 26 has been filled with lots of steps from giving the idea of <a href="http://alilylife.blogspot.com/2010/03/so-whats-f-plan.html">having a life plan my middle finger</a> to embracing my new desire to <a href="http://alilylife.blogspot.com/2010/03/happy-feelings-protest-signs.htmlhttp://alilylife.blogspot.com/2010/03/happy-feelings-protest-signs.html">do something good for others and not only myself</a>. But this one is a big one. I’m making my dreams and wants a priority. No more focusing on the what I should be doing. Should is over rated anyway.<br />
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I’m not selfish; I’m just living my life for me, for the enjoyment, pleasure and fulfillment of me. I’m embracing that mantra. I’m going to tattoo it on my forehead so that when I wake up every morning it’s in my face saying “Hey. Remember me? What you said you’re going to do with your life?” I’m stopping just being and getting back to living. Maybe I'll make a bucket list for my 20s. Who said it had to be for when you die?<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><i>What is your priority?</i></b></div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-83212881286988796622010-08-11T14:48:00.000-06:002010-08-11T14:48:00.965-06:00Hump Day - Get Over ItI'm having one of those days. The one where you feel like yanking at the roots of you hair - not to pull it out cause then you'd be bald, but merely to give it a good stretch praying it will relieve some of this tension you feel. At the very least it should at least pull the skin on my forehead a little tighter like a natural botox treatment getting rid of these two little lines that are becoming permanently embedded between my eyebrows. And I know the two instigators are causing those lines: one- the man, two - the j-o-b. So for today's Hump Day we are going to relieve some of that tension.<br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2WoJV4NLxqg&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2WoJV4NLxqg&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-47224863830325287332010-08-04T13:44:00.000-06:002010-08-04T13:44:51.678-06:00Dear Dryer. I hate you.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFnC6Vo0RSI/AAAAAAAAAbk/A3vsap9-JjA/s1600/hatemail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFnC6Vo0RSI/AAAAAAAAAbk/A3vsap9-JjA/s320/hatemail.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Let me begin by saying I’m not the kind of person who automatically resorts to blaming others for my shortcomings. However, since this obviously isn’t my shortcoming, but a morbid plot that my laundering machinery has hatched out, I feel the need to call that bitch out. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Let me assure you that it hasn’t started all at once. She’s been sneaky about it. She started by shrinking one article then another. It was all done so casually that I even began to blame the man for a short amount of time. After all, he’s a guy’s guy and those types are notorious for being less then efficient in any domestic matters. I probably owe him an apology since it wasn’t him who shrunk two of my favorite sun dresses so it now looks like I’m purposely trying to show the world what color my thong is. Natural to think he may have had something to do with that. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">However, now that overgrown piece of soon to be scrap metal is being just plain unforgiving. I went to put on my favorite pair of jean shorts last weekend, you know the kind all worn and comfy and glorious in the summertime, and she’d done it again. The damn things wouldn’t button! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was forgiving when she shrunk my capris to the point that they now cut off the circulation to my legs. I may walk like I’m on stilts because I can’t bend my knees in my only pair of expensive rock republic jeans, but I didn’t hold it against her. <br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I checked in with every girls arch nemesis, the dreaded scale. And no, he’s not out to get me. He happily told me I’ve only put on two measly pounds this summer, most likely from all that<a href="http://alilylife.blogspot.com/2010/05/hello-costa-rica.html"> South American vacation food</a>. I’m very doubtful that all two pounds somehow managed to migrate directly to my ass.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Which leaves me with one conclusion, that harmless looking lint pot has it out for me. With this last assault she has gone too far. I hate her. I’m calling her out. This. Means. War.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
Who would you like to send hate mail too?</div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-62763472726807395732010-08-03T10:01:00.000-06:002010-08-03T10:01:29.362-06:00Duck Tape Prom Dresses?Have you ever seen something so creative it makes you stop and stare for a minute? Literally, you stare at it for a whole minute. That’s what I just happened to me. I was baffled. The creativity and talent some people have truly amazes me! <br />
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I read about the <a href="http://duckbrand.com/Home/Promotions/stuck-at-prom.aspx">Duck Tapes Stuck at Prom Scholarship Content</a> today and was completely envious of some serious talent these people have. That and I was baffled that apparently this has been going on for 10 years and I’d never heard of it before. Seriously though, I can’t even wrap a bowl in saran wrap without it looking like serious mess let alone make something wearable out of duct tape. The crazy part (yes, aside from the fact that it is tape) is that you can’t even tell this is tape!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFg9Er1_4EI/AAAAAAAAAbc/AHmocG90374/s1600/winners.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFg9Er1_4EI/AAAAAAAAAbc/AHmocG90374/s320/winners.jpg" /></a></div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-625464711531496402010-08-02T13:48:00.000-06:002010-08-02T13:48:38.063-06:00It's a Monday - My brain isn't working & I'm digging random crap day!I'm obsessed with random crap. Random facts, talents, urges, thoughts, misadventures, whatever. And no, not the dirty kind of urges all you pervs who's head instantly sank to the gutter and is probably still bobbing along in there, but the odd kind like that sudden urge you have to stick gum in someone's ear because it is a hole and you suddenly have the random urge to plug that hole. Or maybe you feel the need to suddenly visit every town in the U.S. with a sexually innuendo in it's name. Whatever that randomness may be I love it. Love to hear about it, Love to share it.<br />
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My randomness today is filled with a few things. First, I decided to hop onto the <a href="http://megnificentlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/mingle-monday.html">Mingle Monday at Life of Meg</a> this morning and check out some new random blogs that I would never of found otherwise.<br />
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Second, I came across this sweet ad (go figure I'm in marketing) promoting the Bloody Mary Tudor exhit at the London Dungeon. This is truly amazing and would definitely catch my attention! And apparently I'm not the only one. It's now been banned in train stations and tubes where it ran because of complaints form parents who's children crapped their pants upon seeing it. Literally! Now that is a good ad.<br />
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<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/o9WtEmTLp1Y&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/o9WtEmTLp1Y&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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Third on my random plate today are these fun suitcase stickers from <a href="http://thecheeky.com/">TheCheeky.com</a>. Yes, they may cause a few odd looks from people as you wheel your suitcase through the airport and you may have to do some explaining in the security line, but you'd never pick up the wrong bag or have some random guy fondle your bag ever again.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFcfo8zHOII/AAAAAAAAAa8/k4cDPuSQq68/s1600/suitcase-sticker-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFcfo8zHOII/AAAAAAAAAa8/k4cDPuSQq68/s200/suitcase-sticker-1.jpg" width="200" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFcfwotwh6I/AAAAAAAAAbE/WvmFDoIt31Y/s1600/suitcase-sticker-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFcfwotwh6I/AAAAAAAAAbE/WvmFDoIt31Y/s200/suitcase-sticker-2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFcgbyMixeI/AAAAAAAAAbM/sMs1lkt6PJw/s1600/suitcase-sticker-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFcgbyMixeI/AAAAAAAAAbM/sMs1lkt6PJw/s200/suitcase-sticker-3.jpg" width="200" /> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFcghFyteRI/AAAAAAAAAbU/9GZesdiPRqE/s1600/suitcase-sticker-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFcghFyteRI/AAAAAAAAAbU/9GZesdiPRqE/s200/suitcase-sticker-4.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What is your randomness today?</div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-75484967096985237712010-07-30T13:48:00.000-06:002010-07-29T14:04:02.955-06:00Blame it on the Booze. Blame it on Jenny.<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFG-iu8J_KI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Y1gynMXfSA0/s1600/booze.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFG-iu8J_KI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Y1gynMXfSA0/s320/booze.jpg" /></a></div>I realized the other day that it has been way, and I mean <i>WAY</i> too long since I've gotten together with some of my best girlies from college. I was telling the man how it was time for me to have a random girls weekend. We all live only a few hours apart, so we try to get together and hang, drink beers, make snarky comments at anyone in the vicinity – in essence be our fabulous selves - every few months. Unfortunately March was our last go round. The man’s comments to my spur of the moment idea? “Sure, but don't get thrown out of a bar this time.”<br />
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Damn! I swear he never forgets anything. That instantly got me thinking about the last time we were together and how I managed to get my happy ass bounce out of a bar for the second time in my life. Now I feel the need to share. Settle in. It's not a short story, but it's definitely worth it.<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">The last time the girls all came into town we were going out and getting shitty in true college throw back style which meant a hotel room would become mandatory. (Remember kids, never drink and drive.) After bouncing around to several bars we finally ended up hitting a very cliche clubby style place complete with $8 beers, posers getting bottle service to get girls to talk to them, and a 22-year-old wavering between puking in the toilet and passing out with her face on the seat. This is not my kind of scene at all being a sports bar, live music scene or hidden dive bar kind of girl myself, however some of the others live in the W-Y-O so clubs are a rarity to be explored whenever possible.<br />
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Before arriving the night had been fairly tame. We were tipping back drinks, throwing back the occasional shot and laughing about everything out of the other's mouth. Nothing too excessive. I should have known we were in for trouble when Jen sauntered up to one of the poser's with bottle service, grabbed the bottle and topped of all of our drinks with Grey Goose (thank god we were already drinking vodka or that could have gotten nasty.)<br />
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Sometime shortly after, and several top offs later, the dancing vibe took hold of us all. As we elbowed our way onto the overcrowded dance floor we somehow managed to get stuck along the side by the velvety roped off booths. I honestly can't remember how it happened, maybe it was just to crowded and Jen didn't realize that the rope was right behind her, but the next thing I know she's falling head first onto the privileged side and dragging me down with her. Apparently they weren't so thrilled to have us literally crashing their little party.<br />
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I was up and on my feet quick enough, but Jen definitely wasn't having somehow tangled herself up with the rope and poles that hold it. She did have some assistance though, unfortunately it was in the form of three pissed off bouncers who picked her up -two at her legs and one with her arms - and began to drag her out of the club. Nothing pisses me off more then rude ass people. They could have asked us to leave or hell better yet turned her over so they weren't carrying her out face down to insure they didn't smack her face on the steps as they hauled her down the stairs and out the door (her face ended up being safe by the way). And since I don't know how to keep my mouth shut and if my friend's ass is getting physically tossed out it's likely I'll be right there mouthing off enough to get tossed too. I'm nothing if not loyal.<br />
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But the assholeness didn't stop there. The jerk who'd decided to help me leave the premises didn't just set me down on the street. Nope he felt the need to set me in the middle of the sidewalk and proceed to chest bump me off the curb into the street. I'm 5'4" so having a 6' something guy do this seemed excessive and I wasn't having any of it. I hopped right back up on the curb informing him the sidewalk was public domain and he couldn't evicted me from it with his giant man boobs.<br />
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At this point a cop decided to intercede and find out what the issue was. I happily explained my argument and my concerns at the lack of the bouncer's knowledge of the zoning laws, which likely weren't his fault given my doubts that his IQ ever developed past that of a toddler. To my surprise the cop laughed, actually laughed, told the bouncer to desist in harassing me and kindly offered to hail us a cab.<br />
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</b><br />
<b>Life Lessons Learned:</b><br />
1) <i>You can't man handle her, she's a girl!</i> is not a valid argument with bouncers. (Sorry H. It was a good try.)<br />
2) Yelling <i>Put her down now and we can walk out douche bags!</i> will get your ass picked up a hauled out right along with your friend.<br />
3) I can apparently make intelligent legal arguments while bombed.<br />
4) Some cops do have a sense of humor at 1 a.m.</div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-11694659847108262752010-07-29T10:39:00.000-06:002010-07-29T10:39:00.957-06:00Relationships. Forget the a la carte menu. Go for all inclusive.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFGugESjGeI/AAAAAAAAAas/sBe_QnL3NIU/s1600/buffet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TFGugESjGeI/AAAAAAAAAas/sBe_QnL3NIU/s320/buffet.jpg" /></a></div><br />
2010 has been a seriously interesting year so far. For several of my friends it has been filled with some major life changes and undoubtedly when you’re in one of those moments you get to see the good, the great and the downright eFFed up relationships that you have.<br />
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A guy who has repeatedly begged my friend to move clear across the country with him acts surprised when she is hesitant when he can’t even text, yet alone call her, on V-day, her birthday or even within the same 24 hours when she has called him. (douche alert.)<br />
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<b>I call bullshit.</b><br />
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A guy friend who asks his girlfriend to move in with him and after she does rips his ass in front of his friends and always takes off for days at a time over every little fight. They she has the nerve to act surprised when he asks her to move out. (Seriously? WTF did she expect to happen?)<br />
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<b>I call bullshit.</b><br />
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A girl friend at long last after lots of trying, fertility drugs, one miscarriage, several rounds of AI action and buckets of tears was finally pregnant. At a time in the pregnancy when the baby’s health was in serious question and doctors were preparing her for the possibility of aborting the pregnancy pending some test results her sister-in-law decides to announce that she is pregnant. Oh it gets better, the in-law is only 5 weeks along (hello, you <i>don’t</i> tell people that early) and, get this, doesn’t want my friend to tell her husband cause the in-law wants to tell him on his birthday! (Did she really think he would be thrilled to hear that when they may have to abort his own baby?) <br />
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<b>BULLSHIT! </b><br />
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Relationships, whether it is family, friends, hell even business, are a two way street driven by communication and respect. No one should just expect someone else to do something for them just because that is what they want. <b>We have to earn it! </b><br />
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You can’t just pick when it is convenient for you to be part of that relationship and forget all about the other person any other time. A relationship is an intricate dance of give and take. It’s never ending. If you want to be part of it strap on the ballet shoes and bring an extra pair for them.<br />
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The beauty of the best relationships are the unexpected little perks that you will get out of them. The friend you’ve spent months listening to vent all their frustrations suddenly stops talking a gives you a big hug because they instinctively know that everything isn’t alright in your world and they’re going to be there for you to cry to, vent to or just lean on. The love of your life who buys 3 avocadoes at the grocery store when it only takes 2 to make guacamole just because he knows you will want one to eat with garlic salt because you do the same for him all the time. <br />
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The people who don’t return the sentiments, don’t return the respect, are the ones that you end up being better off without. I’ve spent 5 years weeding out the relationships that haven’t been mutually gratifying to me and invested myself in cultivating the ones that have. As such I’m a happier person.<br />
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I do my best to never treat anyone like they are the mustard. You should never be anyone’s condiment. Be the entire entrée with a little dessert thrown in on the side. <br />
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<a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=989"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">Image: healingdream / FreeDigitalPhotos.net</span></span></i></a>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-61273868434446493922010-07-16T16:30:00.000-06:002010-07-16T16:30:19.141-06:00Hello Liam. Welcome.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TEDdVh16UPI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/bSRkkRPJhKM/s1600/photo_8982_20091022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TEDdVh16UPI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/bSRkkRPJhKM/s320/photo_8982_20091022.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Today was a weird day for me. I'm not, repeat NOT, a kid person and even less of a baby person. Honestly I believe that humans and birdies have the ugliest offspring. We are not attractive in our first few hours and months of our lives. I'm the last person who will ever ask to hold a baby. I don't get why people get so excited and want to cuddle them, make stupid cooey noises and faces at them and tell people that they are the cutest baby ever.<br />
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Yep that's me. I'm a bit of a baby hater. My tolerance and mild interest in children begin when they are like 2 or 3 and they have a personality. Then I like to teach them to do things like drop ice cubes down their mother's cleavage or pick coins out of fountains (okay, maybe that is only with my sister's kids. Other people get really pissed off if you do that). At this stage their kind of funny and their view on everything in life is very amusing.<br />
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But the odd thing is, I was incredibly excited to hear about Liam making his grand debut this morning. One of my closest friends, Des, is the proud new mother. I'm incredibly excited for her. I was moved by the story she told me of how he made it into the world, how it felt to her, and how the last several hours have been since. I was warmed to the depths of my little baby indifferent heart.<br />
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And (gasp!) I find myself excited to say hello to the little guy. Maybe it's because I've been here to hear about everything from his first kicks to all the disgusting things that your body does. Maybe it's because we've been such close friends. Who knows. All I can say is that I'm truly happy for them - not the kind where you say you are happy and wish congrats - but the kind that makes your face tingly and you can't help but smiling.<br />
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Welcome to the world little guy!<br />
<div><br />
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</div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-9455864911961587642010-07-14T14:21:00.000-06:002010-07-14T14:21:44.892-06:00A Gypsy at Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TD4WQRsf1HI/AAAAAAAAAZw/jyYT8VH9KI0/s1600/homme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TD4WQRsf1HI/AAAAAAAAAZw/jyYT8VH9KI0/s320/homme.jpg" /></a></div><br />
It's true. I have a gypsy's heart. I get the itch. I can't sit still. I can feel an antsiness in my blood. It's all I can do not to pack myself a light bag, grab a case of rockstars and all my favorite CDs, and take off in the car. I don't even really care where I'm going. I wouldn't make a plan of what to do. I'd just know it when I get there.<br />
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I've never been very good a staying in one spot. Maybe it comes from living in so many different places growing up or having a revolving door on the houses that brought so many different kind of people into my life. I like newness and change.<br />
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<b>We are all wanderers on this earth. Our hearts are full of wonder, and our souls are deep with dreams. </b><br />
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During the college years I would pick off and take off for days at a time whenever I got the urge. I miss those kind of days. I <i>really</i> miss being able to pick everything up and take off at a moments notice. Sometimes the restrictions of having a steady job, car payments and student loans seem more stifling then rewarding.<br />
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I'll be honest. One of the reasons I may be so itchy right now is because my birthday is barely a month away. It's been another year and I tend to become unsure if I'm doing enough with my life. I get that feeling that I'm not living it enough. Then again what is enough?<br />
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I often wonder if I'll ever be content and relaxed in the place I am. Will I ever free comfortable and at home with where I am, or am I destined to always feel this itch a couple time a year and yearn to uproot myself and find something new?<br />
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Is there any substance that that elusive feeling of home?Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-39371143022255388712010-07-08T12:40:00.002-06:002010-07-12T10:54:14.287-06:00The Boobie JingleI’ve talked about my job before, but in case you are new here’s a little background: I’m an Account Manager for an internet marketing company. One of our client niche areas is plastic surgery, so I’m constantly cruising through plastic surgery sites all day long. So yes, I know a ridiculous amount about plastic surgery now. So when I finally get the girls done (It’s going to happen even if it isn’t till after I have kids and make The Man pay to put my body back in the shape it’s supposed to be in. If by some random chance I do have kids that is.) I’m going to know exactly what to look for and what I want.<br />
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Anyways, part of my day is spent checking out my client’s competitors to figure out what they are doing and how we can virtually kick their asses. So today I stumbled across something that cracked me up. One of my client’s is in Phily and that, my friends, is where I found what I’m now fondly calling <i>The Boobie Jingle</i>. You can listen to it <a href="http://www.lookingnatural.com/media/eisenberg-jingle.mp3">here</a>.<br />
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This is terrible marketing! Whoever came up with this needs to be smacked - repeatedly.<br />
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Seriously ladies, does this make any of you want to visit this surgeon?Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-79217678632688867412010-07-07T09:54:00.000-06:002010-07-07T09:54:36.612-06:00My Hump Day Pick Me UpsIt's hump day again. Wednesdays for me are always a beotch, and I can always use a little something something to help me get through without napping under my desk or jabbing my eyes out with a pencil.So I figure this week I'd share what's getting me through. Cut to me bouncing in my office chair and yes, I may even bust out a quick air guitar. Aw hump day - here's to getting over it!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YuID7HgjD_E&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YuID7HgjD_E&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;">(<i>The Spill Canvas - Our Song</i>)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And these are a few of my tried and true make me feel all fuzzy and happy songs:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xpalw_modest-mouse-float-on_music">Modest Mouse - Float On</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x206bu_snow-patrol-hands-open_music">Snow Patrol - Hands Open</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ggJS0p-QQc">The Barenaked Ladies - The Old Apartment</a></div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-77332141826471915402010-07-01T18:07:00.000-06:002010-07-01T18:07:26.445-06:00Racking Up Life's Brownie Points<span style="color: #93c47d; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>“Life is a gift, and it offers us the privilege, opportunity, and responsibility to give something back by becoming more.” - Anthony Robbins</em></strong></span><br />
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In the last several months I've hit this weird stride where I'm being more consiencious of what I'm doing. I'm being all charitable and racking up a few brownie points with life. Knowing me I'm going to need them one day, likely sooner then later. I'm convinced that all those odd random little things that have happened to me are becuase I deserved it in some way. Okay, I know that sounds a lot like Karma, but I'm convinced Karma is only for the really big stuff that you do. Like say you sideswipe an old lady hobbling along with your car or you sleep with every boyfriend your college roommate has had since you started living together. (I know someone who did that second one and I'm convinced that is why all her boyfriend cheat on her now.) That's when Karma kicks in and bites you in the ass. <br />
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The rest is all just lifes little brownie points. You've got so much of them and when you run out those things like someone side swiping your car, breaking a heel, or falling off the curb and spraining your ankle happen. It's the universes way of saying "Hey, asshole. Time to make a contribution for the greater good." Well universe, I got the message. So now I'm working on racking up some of life's little brownie points.<br />
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I've mentioned before my recent decision to put in some charity hours at PPRM, but I'm doing more then that. Don't get me wrong, that's the only big thing. I'm not quite willing to give up too much of my time and that's not how you get life's brownie points anyway - remember it has to be little things. <br />
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So first I decided to start donating a little money when I got those little please donate to this cause things in the mail. The only ask for $10 so what can that hurt? Beware. I'm convinced that all charities share a database and they flag you when you do this. Not only will you receive tons of requests from them, but then everyone is all over you for money. I killed that idea pretty quick and kept working on my other brownie point gathering tactics that are much easier like letting someone infront of me in traffic and not hitting every free sample stand at Costco on Saturdays 4-8 times and callilng it lunch.<br />
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Yesterday I did something big! I'm talking 20 point worth at least. I found a credit card in the parking lot at Target and instead of just leaving it there where anyone could steal it and use it, I took it inside and asked the customer service people to page the lady who's name it was on the card. When no one showed up I made the guy cut it up for me. (Your welcome Agnes something or other.) And you know what? It actually felt pretty damn good. I got the warm and tingles for about 10 minutes. So I guess even if I didn't earn all 20 brownie points, then that's okay. <br />
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What are you doing to rack up life's brownie points?Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-4931761267448421532010-06-29T10:40:00.000-06:002010-06-29T10:40:14.488-06:00Tuesdays - WTF?I saw this today, loved it and felt it was a must share cause this is how my week is feeling.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TCoe6CtqVbI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/MpqinRDCyic/s1600/34294_577641200693_45200827_33372065_8310682_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TCoe6CtqVbI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/MpqinRDCyic/s320/34294_577641200693_45200827_33372065_8310682_n.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">You ever have one of those weeks when everything makes you want to scream and punch coworkers, the guy that was riding his brakes all damn morning and eventually random old ladies on the street for walking slow and smiling at you? (I promise that isn't an everyday occurrence, but more of a random feeling today, and yesterday, and maybe tomorrow.) Well, that's my week so far. It's one of those that sends me home on a Monday to veg on a coach and watch Leverage on the DVR with 2 giant pint size glasses of homemade Sangria because a wine glass just wasn't going to be big enough. And it's only Tuesday. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Makes me seriously wonder where this week is going to end up. But wait, Friday is a half-day of work and Monday is off thanks to the independence of America. God bless the USA, bottle rockets, hot dogs, apple pie, beer koozies, and most importantly our soldiers. Without you I'd be working on Monday and speaking in a funny British accent that would most likely resemble a combo of Kiera Knightley and Charlie Hunnam's real accents (it wouldn't sound to pretty). </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">So that brings us to next Tuesday and wondering: WTF will it bring? </div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-87975813270910183242010-06-28T11:33:00.000-06:002010-06-28T11:33:14.813-06:00The Misadventures of Lake Powell 2010So my most recent adventure to Lake Powell was a combination of hilarity, dreams of mice, sunscreen, water floaties and banana hammocks saturated in booze and tossed onto a houseboat that by day two reeked of septic backup. Here are a few highlights:<br />
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While some people fly pirate flags, our crew in true Nebraskan fashion flew a Husker flag. That’s right a great big ass red flag with a white N. There was no question where most on this boat hailed from. And if that wasn’t enough to proclaim where the patrons of that boat belonged then the giant “N” that we was resurrected at our first docking spot definitely was.<br />
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And just when I thought I was finally too old to get obscenely drunk and pass out in an odd spot I do, but at least I can blame it on The Man. Pomegranate Pearl Vodka and a little Sprite Zero go down way to easy! Four ridiculously strong drinks later and a realization that I’ve become a pansy since leaving college, I took a look at the bottle and suddenly felt myself hit a wall. My drunk sea legs weren’t going to cut it anymore. I was done. Out for the count. So what do I do? I crawl up underneath the 8 plus inflated floaties in one of the staterooms and proceed to take one the of best siestas of my life. Only to wake up with a fairly significant buzz hours later. That’s right. I can’t hang like I used to.<br />
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Also, there is nothing quite like resurrecting a game of truth or dare. Thanks to that I’ve seen a drunk guy sing I’m a little teapot while twirling around on a cooler, friends play bucking bull and try to dump each other into the dirt, and just about everyone in a banana hammock (yes, some of the girls too).<br />
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Did you know that mice (and apparently other disgusting creatures) will crawl up the lines at night while the boat is docked? All it took was one mention of this and I was dreaming of little mice crawling across my bed every night. While it never happened, the mere thought was enough to have me kicking out randomly at least 20 times per night. Tip: bring something to put on the ropes to fend off the little creepy, disease-ridden rodents.<br />
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Oh and one last antidote. When packing of course I remembered all the essentials like sunscreen, bug spray, water floaties and several cases of beer, but who would have ever thought to pack mass amounts of Febreeze? Well, I’m telling you that is another must have with 10 people all using the same crapper, and one in particular dropping 4-6 loads a day. The smell is builds up quick and at a whopping 10 miles an hour cruising speed you can’t generate enough wind flow to carry away the smell. <br />
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All in all, it was a hell of a time. What was your favorite random vacation with friends?Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-3252604417439918712010-06-09T17:49:00.000-06:002010-06-22T17:51:17.815-06:00Why should I work when I could perpetually be on vacation?<div class="MsoNormal">The worst part about any vacation is coming home. I know some people are ready to crawl back into their own comfy beds and gorge themselves on American hamburgers, but not me. Okay, that’s not fully true. I did gorge myself on the Wendy’s frosty/fries combo. (God bless you Dave!) I am already missing you Costa Rica. What more could I ask for from my little adventure then the sound of waves crashing into the beach (off both coasts), several species of crazy monkeys and buttery plantains with every meal. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know! Another vacation because hey, who really needs to be at work anyways? Definitely not me. That’s right kiddies. I’m off to Lake Powell with the NEB crew. Translation: hello to more sun (Yes, I’m getting seriously brown) and a houseboat full of booze. Ain’t summer grand?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Where would you go right now if you could?</div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-9609721542801462192010-06-08T10:52:00.001-06:002010-06-08T11:50:50.262-06:00Does this high school grad make me look old?It’s official. My little bitty baby bro isn’t so little bitty anymore. Yes, I know he has dwarfed me since he was 14, but the kid –ahem, excuse me- guy is finally grown up. I can attest to that since I spent the entire weekend coming to that realization. It didn’t happen right away, it was more like a 12 step, okay 2 step process.<br />
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<b>1. The military dress</b><br />
I showed up in Riverton and caught up with the bro on Saturday, after he had spent half the day on orders, which I learned is what it’s called when you’re on duty for your one-weekend-a-month with the National Guard. Since he was done with his tasks but still technically on call he had to stay suited up in his uniform for the rest of the day just in case the call and need him somewhere. So when I saw him he was still in uniform.<br />
That’s when it slowly began to set in. Yes, he did really sign up for 8 years in the guard and he is going to basic training next month. Sure, I’ve seen pictures of him in the gear, but it’s not the same as seeing it in person.<br />
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<b>2. The cap and gown</b><br />
Sunday came and so did graduation day. In Riverton it took place in the gymnasium since that’s the only place big enough to hold all those people inside – hey, its Wyoming and you don’t hold anything outside in May. It may very likely snow. As we sat down I quickly realized I hadn’t seen the inside of a high school gym in 9 years. It was a little awkward being in one again and you think I would have remembered how wood bench can make your butt numb in 2 minutes. I seriously wish I would have thought of bringing a blanket, pillow, butt donut, anything to sit on! I digress…<br />
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With an 8 year difference, I’ve always seen Chans as my baby bro, but in a cap and gown my thinking really had to start changing. After all he was done with school and taking the diploma. Funny enough when they began playing the senior video and his face popped up and he waved at the camera I got teary. Awww! It was ridiculous. I didn’t get teary at my own graduation, was actually rather nonchalant about the whole thing, but his I got a little choked up. Don’t worry I quickly recovered.<br />
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Congratulations Chans! May your road never be too rocky, may you always appreciate each and every success, and may you always remain as humble as you were that day.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Explore. Dream. Discover. - Mark Twain</i></b></div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-80174793045052941372010-05-28T15:46:00.009-06:002010-06-17T15:53:34.276-06:00Hello Costa Rica!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TBqZCl2fqyI/AAAAAAAAAXM/_KdXKikVOcg/s1600/photo_17628_20100611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/TBqZCl2fqyI/AAAAAAAAAXM/_KdXKikVOcg/s320/photo_17628_20100611.jpg" /></a></div><a href="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=659"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Image by Salvatore Vuono</span></a><br />
Costa Rica, my friend, I love you! God bless 80 degree days filled with humidity. I know that sounds weird, but toss in a little trade winds and I’m in paradise – or better yet Costa Rica! New Orleans, don’t be jealous. I still love you too!<br />
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Though after the five and half hour red-eye flight and the annoying guy who got up to pee 6 (yes 6!) times and still insisted on having a window seat, I required some much needed ZZZs . FYI – I never got the expression red-eye till now because that is definitely how you look after one of those flights. Thank god for super early check-ins and really friendly front desk people who tolerate exhausted Americans trying to speak Spanish, but are too tired to form actual sentences in my first language.<br />
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After several hours sleep I woke up refreshed and ready to explore the city that was bustling just below my window. That’s when I realized that in our sleep deprived state earlier we hadn’t been given any instructions for the next leg of our adventure. While I’m fine with winging things most of the time, The Man definitely is not, so we’d arranged a travel package that would take us from one stop to the next and several tours at the various locations. Not an ideal situation.<br />
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After several attempts to reach someone at our travel companies local office who knew what was going on (it was lunch and siesta hour and the poor girl who answered the phone didn’t speak that great of English and my Spanish isn’t good enough for that conversation) we had a time to meet the guide tomorrow and still half of the first day to catch some of the local sites in San Jose.<br />
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So here is to 10 days filled with nature, culture and adventure!Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-11110739535836857052010-05-25T11:52:00.000-06:002010-05-25T11:52:53.143-06:00Life isn’t about finding yourself, It’s about creating yourself!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCwBfIQWNikRJw2ATOdCeIMADVyfk_TupR94rKvUlw54i9peJE-b6JOMtQco5Ofpm7EzwPaRURLawvgbfH0MX5Uhqcry7GEZNwjrmPsGfBgAO_GESGod0WaTMY5WCMnUiufZrSV57pzY/s1600/creating.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCwBfIQWNikRJw2ATOdCeIMADVyfk_TupR94rKvUlw54i9peJE-b6JOMtQco5Ofpm7EzwPaRURLawvgbfH0MX5Uhqcry7GEZNwjrmPsGfBgAO_GESGod0WaTMY5WCMnUiufZrSV57pzY/s320/creating.jpg" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You ever hear people say “I’m finding myself”? Well, I absolutely <i>hate</i> that saying. It’s ridiculous and makes no sense. How can you find yourself? It’s not as if you were somewhere then whoops turned around and you’re gone. You didn’t misplace yourself somewhere. No one is going to hand you a map or plug the coordinates into your GPS and presto! There you are. It’s you! The one you’ve spent all this time looking for.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><i>In life we don’t find ourselves, we create ourselves!</i></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We have never been here before and we will never be here, in this moment in time again. With every choice, every action, every thought - we create. We Hope. We dream. We embrace. We cry. We fall. We love. We lose. We explore. We live. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><i>Our life and the people we become are our creation.</i></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I believe I’m still creating myself. The self I want to be. The better me. The more involved me. The more humble, more compassionate, more dedicated, more inspired me. Every day I continue to work toward creating the me I want to be. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">It's not about being content with who you are, but continuing to strive to achieve a better you. Everyone of us is beautiful in our own right. We do not need to find ourselves, for we are already here. We already know who we are. The question is, "Is this the best person I can be?" I resoundingly say NO!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Because of this I will never stop creating. Never stop evolving. And most importantly never stop learning. I learn, I live and I create. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">May you always appreciate the you, you are and you, you are creating. Who will the you, you create be?</div>Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6730065504039805725.post-24506673777152707522010-05-19T13:55:00.000-06:002010-05-19T13:55:03.053-06:00A head full of useless facts & absurd skills<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/S_RBP69wsCI/AAAAAAAAAWM/Y9b3WbM2gHQ/s1600/abc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hf3uAm2NlHc/S_RBP69wsCI/AAAAAAAAAWM/Y9b3WbM2gHQ/s320/abc.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Sometimes I wish I could delete all the useless information that has accumulated in my brain over the last 26. Out with the old and in with some stuff that may actually be useful!<br />
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Most importantly I would delete the ability to say the ABC’s backwards. There was some very stupid myth in the 90s that cops would make you say the ABC’s backwards if you were pulled over. At the ripe of 11 I decided that I better learn how to do that. I was terrified of being hauled off to jail on suspicion of a DUI when I was only speeding all because I couldn’t say them backwards. The things kids will believe.<br />
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Fifteen years later it is more of an inconvenience than anything. I do now have it on good authority that cops will not ask you say your ABC’s backwards for any reason. It’s apparently not a common thing people can do. Plus it screws me up when I’m trying to figure out what letter comes after which. I actually have to stop and think (okay, yes and sing a little) is it N-O-P-Q or Q-P-O-N?<br />
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Amazingly being able to recite every state in the US alphabetically still comes in handy! I’m keeping that one. Thank you 5th grade! Everybody sing it - Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas….<br />
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So with a head full of useless facts what is a girl to do? Looks like I'll just have to stick to rocking at trivia games.<br />
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If you could purge your brain of useless knowledge what would you delete?Jessicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093714200654488994noreply@blogger.com0