Friday, December 21, 2007

Would You Rather…

gnaw off your own arm


go to your old high school’s choir alumni concert where you will have to hug people you didn’t even like in high school, be forced to sing with the kids, and bring all your friends and family to watch the side show?

Oh…I wish it was only a game...or that I actually had a choice. But it is not and I do not.

Tonight I WILL attend my alumni concert. My parents are forcing me.

“How can your parents force you to do anything? You are 26 for goodness sake,” you might say. And I would sheepishly “Bah” at you.

I don’t know how they have done it. But that have managed to get myself and at least eight other people to come to this humiliation extravaganza.

Don’t get me wrong. I was a total choir nerd in high school. I fully support the program by continuing to design their holiday CD every year, but I would rather not relive my glory years like the star high school quarterback who now pumps my gas and lives in his mom’s basement.

You see…in high school…I was kinda a “big deal.” And I would rather not live the legend…I’d rather just be me and look forward instead of look backward.

Well…I guess I got my wish…I am looking forward…to tonight…with dread.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

That Is Ms. Slacker To You

So I FULLY intended to keep up my nablopomo momentum and continue blogging at that ridiculous pace…but then I took a nap for the month of December.

I did start a post approximately eight days ago with the title, “On the Twelfth Day of Christmas.” But that post never came to fruition as I suffered a massive panic attack while writing about my anxiety over having nothing for any of the good little boys and girls on my list. So after I popped my eyeballs back in my head, I decided that instead of blogging about the ominous approach of Christ’s birthday, I would actually be proactive and buy some freaking presents.

We are now…what?…four days out?...and I have completed the majority of my shopping without ever setting foot in a mall. That is pretty damn good for a pathological procrastinator like myself.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

My Arms Might Fall Off

No…its not the leprosy. I went snowboarding last weekend.

There finally was enough snow…just as I was beginning to panic that my season pass was going to be utilized by going to the resort and building mudmen.

The slopes were in pretty good shape for the first big weekend, but my physical condition…that is another story.

I learned to snowboard last season…not well…but well enough to not fall down every five feet. So apparently snowboarding is not like riding a bicycle.

You might wonder how a person’s arms would hurt from snowboarding. “Don’t you use your legs?” you might ask. “Well, yes you do,” I would respond. “But when you fall down you have to lift your fat ass off the snow…over…over…and over...your arms begin to tire.”

So yeah…I have also disproved that rule about only hurting for a couple of days after using new muscles, because it is Wednesday and my arms still feel like death.

But I have a pretty new snowboard and I just bought this hat which fills me with much joy and anticipation for its arrival.

Monday, December 10, 2007

The Company Holiday Party

Up until this year I have avoided the company holiday party. I have done the little intimate celebratory lunches with my coworkers, but the big shindig with semi-formal attire…not so much. It isn’t that I am a grinch…we just all know how I feel about these events.

This year…I had no good excuse to get out of it and I somehow got talked into attending. Boyfriend and I got dressed up in our finest finest and I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t that bad…we even got a fun little prom picture to prove it. The food rocked my world and I could just talk to Boyfriend and stuff my face when there was nobody to talk to.

There were a few awkward half hugs and long pauses…but all in all…not too bad. And once I was adequately liquored up, I knew it would be even better. So I quickly bee-lined to the open bar and ordered my gin gimlet.

Now I understand that the youth of our world can only make mojitos and margaritas…but a gin gimlet is not so hard…two ingredients…you don’t have to go to bartender school to figure that one out. Anyway…so, after ordering, I watched as the kid (I swear he was like 15) searched frantically for something. He asked his fellow bartender and they both looked puzzled. Finally, he came back to me and said, “we don’t have any onions.” “That is fine,” I said…since there should be no onion anywhere close to my gin gimlet.

He filled a tall glass with ice and poured the gin in…so far so good…that is the biggest gin gimlet I have ever seen…but I’m not complaining. He then picked up the vermouth and poured a few drops into my drink. Ummm…I have never seen a gimlet made with vermouth…but maybe that was his special recipe…I am open to new things. The he grabbed the gin again and filled the rest of the glass with gin. He shook it up and grabbed a martini glass. “Can I have it on the rocks,” I said as he looked at me like I just killed his puppy.

He poured it in a shorter glass and handed it to me. Ummm…thanks…for my glass of gin.

Later on…he saw me and ran over. “I found the onions,” he said. I just swayed a little and hiccuped at him…since I had just finished my second glass of gin.

For all you aspiring bartenders out there…here is a PROPER recipe for a gin gimlet:
  1. Fill glass with ice
  2. Add 1.5 ounces of gin
  3. Add .5 ounces of Rose’s lime juice
  4. Garnish with a slice of lime

Monday, December 3, 2007



Every year Sister and I make Christmas cookies. An obscene number of Christmas cookies. We roll it, pat it, and mark it with a B and put it in the oven for Sister and me…or something like that. This year we scaled back…instead of ten batches (yielding 50 cookies each) we went with six this year.

My house has been transformed into the magical world of Cookieland. Green and blue, red and yellow…sparkles and sprinkles….doesn’t matter cause it tastes like yumminess. I don’t know why we even bother decorating them for Christmas…they are always gone before the actual day. I think one time when I like seven, we had one cookie left for the fat man on Christmas Eve. I didn’t get any extra presents from that shit and so that was the end of that nonsense.

So first day…I ate like 30 cookies…and it started to make me a little sick (understandably). But I rallied and consumed another 30 or so today. Way to pack ‘em on heifer.



Friday, November 30, 2007


Last night was a lesson in wildlife. Los Gatos…translates to “the cats” but it should be called the “the cougars.” The ladies were out in force last night. As we (Boyfriend and his two friends) entered the club ready for a wild night of drinking and dancing…it became obvious that we were being watched…and by “we” I mean Boyfriend and his friends. The 40-somethings were on the prowl with their sequined crop tops and collagen swollen lips.

The Timberlake was bumping and these ladies knew every word. I was basically fighting these ladies off Boyfriend with a large stick. I thought I was gonna have beat some old bitches down. Luckily Boyfriend’s friends were all too single and willing so the attention was easily diverted. One particular little piece of work (not so much a cougar…more of a haguar) who had a little ti miny martoonis pulled one of these unsuspecting boys out on the dance floor and was “dipping it low” in possibly the most disturbing manner.

She proceeded to chew him up and spit him out. But I got pictures…blackmail is sweet.

P.S. NaBloPoMo is over…woo. I am guessing that my blogroll over the next few weeks is gonna be a little sparse…but never fear. I will be here blogging away.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Like A Chain Letter From Hell

I got tagged…and I kinda hate this person now. But we are reaching the home stretch of November and I gots nothing else to write about so I will propagate this nonsense and annoy the hell out of seven others.

The Rules
Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
Share 7 facts about yourself.
Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

7 Random Facts
  1. Last time I had to share a random fact about myself was at a leadership retreat…I told the group that I have a chinchilla named Dante. (I have never had a chinchilla)
  2. I like to color. I have an extensive collection of coloring books and crayons. I even do the little mazes and kindergarten-level word scrambles. Boyfriend always asks for placemats for me to color on at restaurants.
  3. If I were to have plastic surgery it would be an earlobe reduction or a toe-shortening procedure. I, like most females, have plenty insecurities when it comes to my body…but my long-ass ski toes and my dumbo earlobes have always plagued me. My mom tells me the story (constantly) of when she first saw me after I was born…she thought I was so cute because my huge earlobes were resting on my shoulders and would quiver when I breathed…sounds like some freakishly ugly shit to me…but call it what you will mommy dearest.
  4. I know the temperature at which algae stops growing in hot springs…it is 167 degrees in case you were curious.
  5. I watched Knocked Up last night. It looked funny to me and I wanted to see it in the theaters…but I had been putting it off. I think subconsciously I was afraid that watching a movie about unplanned pregnancy might result in a similar fate for me. I’m not superstitious…but fingers crossed salt over the shoulder anyway.
  6. I’m wearing velvet pants today and it makes me feel fancy.
  7. When I was in sixth grade I sat next to (and had a little crush on) a boy who would roll up pieces of plastic use them to snort a mixture of mustard and paste…I saw him recently…strung out…surprise surprise.
The 7 Victims
Please don’t put me on your “People To Kill” list for this:
  1. Ash In Wonderland
  2. Beverley Blog
  3. Blogapotamus Rex
  4. I Am A MeMe Addict
  5. Katie
  6. PluggedOut
  7. StickyFeathers

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Thank God I’m a Suburban Girl

This morning I had to haul my ass to San Francisco for a meeting…we all know how much I love that. I don’t know what it is about the city that makes me feel like I need to gussy myself…wear real girl shoes, brush my hair and pull out my wool coat.

Anyway, after fighting traffic all the way up there and looking for goddamn parking for ten-gajillion hours…I finally broke down and valet parked. Super…there goes five-trillion dollars. As I handed over my key to the skeezy valet I was suddenly relieved that I had remembered to hide my Victoria Secret bag with pretty pink bra under the seat.

I walked into the building and to the elevator to start my ascent to the sixth floor when I saw the sign on the door that said:


Or something like that. Are you kidding me? I can’t even walk a block in these death shoes, let alone climb six flights of stairs. As I stood there, planning my next move, (maybe the sign is just to trick me into exercise…maybe I could fake sick...maybe there is a window-washer around here who will hoist me up on his pulley thing) a little old lady came through the door and started up the stairs. Dammit…now I have to do it.

Luckily, I made it to the top with no serious injury and only small pit stains.

You thought the climax of the story was gonna be here…didn’t you? You thought there was going to be a horrendous meeting and a eventfully bad drive out of the city. Well you were wrong. We already climaxed. That’s it. I had to drive and park and use my legs. That is my bad day. And you know what?…as bad days go…that is a pretty good one.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

I'll Pencil You In For March

Because God knows I have no time for your nonsense before then. Just kidding...well half kidding. I just took a look at my calendar and realized that it is almost effing Christmas! And with the amount of Christmas shopping that I have done (zilch), all things non-holiday will have to wait until after the first of the year. I figure that will take at least a month...add in and extra month for procrastination and laziness and that takes us to March.

Well, I have to at least hold out for the rest of this month for all this NaBloPoMo rubbish. But luckily that ends on Friday.

Monday, November 26, 2007

The Best Cure for Vacation Hangover:

Do absolutely nothing.

Today was the most wonderfully wasted day. I stayed home and slept in until noon. I ate and did jack shit and it was SUPER.

Tomorrow it is back to reality...but my much needed recovery day will get me through the rest of the week no problem.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

I'm Back and Alive...Barely

So the trip was crazy fun. There was all sorts of crazy fun people and we did all kinds of crazy fun things...that is what it takes to have a crazy fun time. My predictions for the trip were, of course, right on.

It was cold. Oh my God...I thought Chicago sucked...this was the worst! I finally mastered the ensemble that could best shield me from the elements by the last night. It involved long underwear, gloves, a scarf, six layers of various shirts and jackets and a lot of alcohol...which brings us to predictions two...

There was so much beer. After Boyfriend and I (mostly Boyfriend) finished our two 30-packs of Coors, we finally decided that enough was enough...but let me tell you...lack of beer is no end to a party for these crazy fun people. They must chipmunk liquor away for just these types of situations...because the party went on well into the morning.

And the MEAT! Dear you have a clue how many animals lost there lives for this event? I don't either...but it was a lot. Game hens and turkeys...cows and pigs...none were spared and all were deep fried. Mmmmm.

Lastly, there was the fire. The largest fire I think I have ever seen close up. But it wasn't just about the wood burning...that got old real fast. Chairs, pine cones and rocks (yes...a rock will light on fire...given enough gasoline...anything is possible) quickly became the objects of the rampant pyromania that seemed to plague our camp.

Other highlights include, but are not limited to:
  • Gun! Lots of guns!
  • Drunk dancing people
  • Quad riding super fast
  • The bottomless pit that we could throw stuff into
  • Only getting hassled by the ranger once, even though we deserved it a lot more.
  • Only one trip to the emergency room...and surprisingly it wasn't all in all...a crazy fun trip.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Reporting Live from the Wilds of Central California

Well kinda.

I wrote this before I left and Sister is posting for me (thanks sister, especially since I sent this to her through a series of ten text messages from my 10-key cell phone...skills...I know). Let's see how accurate I am:
  • I am cold.
  • We drank a bunch of Coors Original in the can and ate a lot of meats.
  • Someone set something on fire.
Good summary of the events to come, which will be explored in detail upon my return...stay tuned.

Friday, November 23, 2007

Camping? In November? Are you out of your mind?

Yes I am.

Boyfriend and I are going camping.

After last night's Thanksgiving dinner at his sister's not quite air tight house (30 degrees indoors) I decided to rethink my camping gear and threw in a bunch of long underwear and fuzzy hats. I hope I make it.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Gobble Gobble

Creative title, yes? Happy Turkey Day y’all.

I am a big fan of traditions. I am pretty much the tradition nazi in my family. Every Thanksgiving we wake up in the morning and watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade…or at least I watch it while my mom and dad bicker about who is responsible for what. The table was set by my meticulous mother at least a week ago and dad makes the nasty bird carcass do the turkey dance (a sprightly can-can across the cutting board) before preparing it for the oven. Sister and the rest of the family come over and we all sit down and eat and drink ourselves stupid and then play games and laugh until bedtime.

This year is different. The dinning room table is clear and the cupboard is pretty much bare. My mom is away and my sister has other plans.

I have many things to be thankful for…a wonderful family…a wonderful boyfriend…a great job…a comfortable home…and those are just the big things. There are a host of little blessings in my life that I won’t even bore you with. But I can’t help feeling a little sad that the traditions are not going to be a part of this year.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Nom Nom Nom

Well I answered my own question…to get ice cream…a girl has to go to Safeway and buy it her damn self. So that is what I did. And I am well on my way to meeting my weight goal (gaining not losing).

I am feeling much better now that I have some nummies in my tummies (yes, us cows have multiple tummies), but that is not the highlight of my day. The COOLEST part about the holidays…not vacation or turkey or ugly sweaters…it is Peppermint ice cream. OMG! Sooooo good. I don’t know why the stores think it is only for Christmas time…it is good year-round. I could eat it EVERY day! It is like crack without the nasty side effects and illegality.

For those of you have not tasted the wonderful goodness of peppermint ice cream let me share its secrets with you. The chilly pink creamy treat is mixed with ribbons of sugary red and green peppermint-flavored goo and chunks of candy cane. A masterpiece on its own, but mix that with some chocolate sauce or better yet, add some milk and a few candy canes and blend that shit up and you have the best milkshake ever.

Ok…time to eat my lunch…guess what it is gonna be…

UPDATE: The downside of peppermint ice cream is when it is fed in extreme quantities to someone who is lactose intolerant (like myself), rumbling will ensue.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

What Does a Girl Have to Do to Get An Ice Cream Around Here?

I am a depression eater. Sad, stressed, upset…I tend to crave the junkiest of junk foods. So between a miserable cold, a painful back, my monthly visitor, my grandmother’s funeral, ridiculous amounts of work to do and the thought of not spending thanksgiving with my family…I am basically planning on gaining at least 40 pounds in the next few days.

Only problem…nothing yummy in the house. Not a ice cream, cookie or piece of cake to be found. I found one cherry cough drop…that is almost candy.

Don’t get me wrong…life isn’t all bad. I am home with the puppies and I get to see Boyfriend and I get to go camping and have a few days off. So maybe the cough drop will hold me over.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Lets Talk About Spell Check Baby (Yes…Too Many Syllables…Live With It)

Ok Mr. Gates…I get it…you are the master of all you see. But seriously…do you think I am a complete moron?

Apparently so. Is it not possible that I would want a lowercase word at the beginning of a new line, or after…GASP…a period? Is it not possible that when I type the word slimey (with an e…because I grew up with your crazy spell check program and have never needed to amass my arsenal of correctly spelled words) that I really mean slimy? I guess not, because Microsoft Word seems to autocorrect such a spelling error as “smiley.” Ok fine…it is possible that there were some other misplaced letters in that word that might have made Word interpret my poor spelling and typing skills as something cheerful with a mouth instead of ooey (which is not a word by the way) gooey, but seriously…can’t we just go back to the little red underlines?

I know…some hot tech geek (read Boyfriend) is going to tell me that I can turn off the autocorrect feature. But that isn’t the point. The point is that in my last post I told you that, “I have an aversion to eating smiley insects,” and while yes…I am a little freaked out at the idea of munching on a happy little caterpillar…I was actually talking about the texture of such a creature in a culinary capacity.

I am feeling incredibly misunderstood.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Hey Bear Grylls…wtf?

I am a big discovery channel fan. Love the Mythbusters and the Dirty Jobs and shhh….don’t tell my engineer father…an occasional Modern Marvels. Recently, I have started watching Man vs. Wild a little…because…what would I do if I was stranded on a Norwegian Fjord? The host, Mr. Bear Grylls, (like he could have done anything else other than make a career as a mountain man with a name like that) has all sorts of useful information for me on local predators to be wary of and how to fight hypothermia (other than naked sleeping bag sharing) and flora and fauna that can be sustenance for a weary traveler. As interesting and useful as this info is…I can’t help but vomit a little in my mouth when I see him chowing down on a grub or ripping the guts from a lizard or chomping into the belly of an alive and squirming salmon. Gross! Was that really necessary? You obviously have a full film crew with you…doesn’t one of them have some peanuts or something? Couldn’t you just say something like, “if a person was really starving they could eat one of these,” and then not actually eat it. I guess my aversion to eating smiley insects or wriggling animals would not make me the ideal candidate for survival in the wild…I guess that is why the show isn’t called Ashley vs. Wild.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Did I Mention That I HATE Flying?

I hate flying*. There is very little about the entire process that I don’t hate. I hate having to foresee my every need in my destination. I hate having to figure out who the hell is going to watch my monsters. I hate the lugging of bags and the waiting in line after line after line to do something that is not the kind of fun that I think is line-waiting worthy. I hate being racially profiled and selected for the special security screening. I hate removing my shoes and disposing of all liquids…they thought of shoe bombs and liquid bombs…you really think they aren’t gonna come up with something else now? I hate being extra early for something I don’t really want to do so I can sit next to this guy who is drooling a little and smells suspiciously of urine. I hate sitting in the middle seat on the airplane…which for some reason is like vitally important for weight and balance because that skinny bitch a row in front of me has an entire row to herself. I hate how I always fall asleep with my mouth hanging open…even when I jury rig a mouth-closing contraption with my standard-issue unwashed airline blanket. I hate how they specifically pick out the small-bladdered people to sit in the window seat…really?...four trips to the bathroom on an hour and 45 minute flight?...maybe you should visit your Urinary Specialist...and while you are there you should ask for a referral to an ear nose and throat doctor...all that bull-like snorting is not normal and can't be doing anything for your social life. Free Diet Coke…ok…not something I hate. I hate waiting for my bags…which by Murphy’s Law ALWAYS come out last. I hate the thought of having to do it all again sooner than I would like. Can someone please invent that teleporter now?

*Don’t worry Boyfriend…not your brand of flying…I hate that commercial bullshit (Boyfriend is a pilot and I love that hassle-free stuff).

Friday, November 16, 2007

What Do I Do?

I hope you weren’t looking for something witty or funny in any way…not feeling it today.

My Grandmother and I never really got along. It was always a hard relationship filled with unsaid things and misunderstanding. Her drinking, smoking and strict nature in contrast to my deep-thinking prudent self was always a big canyon between us.

Whether or not we agreed on politics or social issues was not the issue. Family is the tie the binds and we loved each other unconditionally.

Rest in peace Gram…I love you.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

I Don’t Wanna

I’m sick and nearly deaf…and I don’t want to blog. Damn you NaBloPoMo! Curses! Can’t a girl just take a ever-loving day off? Why did I sign up for this nonsense? I don’t wanna! No! I’m not gonna!

Shoot…I kinda did…didn’t I?

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Hot Minivan!

In high school I was playfully called “Soccer Mom,” mostly because of my protective nature, my sweet ’91 GMC Safari, and the fact that all my friends decided to wait until age 19+ to get their drivers licenses. I never actually played the game or ever even really attended one back in the day.

Boyfriend decided to join a soccer team…not because he is particularly skilled in the game of soccer…more because he just likes that whole team thing. I like it too…but with my spastically horrific physical talent, I would merely embarrass myself and all those who might join my team…so instead I have taken on more of the cheerleader role…oh who am I kidding…I’m not perky or small enough to be a cheerleader.

I am a soccer mom and I embrace it. I am totally psyched about designing jerseys for “The Ladybugs” (how fierce could those be?) and I am fully planning on orange slices and Capri Suns for the team next game. Who cares if they don’t win, (cause they haven’t) they are my team!

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Hey Baby…This is Barry White

Ok fine…there isn’t much of a physical resemblance, but my voice right now…wow…it is sooooo sexy. It would make even the most fridged bitch weak in the knees. Two people have called me on the phone today and when I answer they say, “Oh I have the wrong number,” only to call back 30 seconds later after they realized that it was, in fact, the right number and that Ashley had obviously undergone an emergency gender reassignment procedure.

So apparently amongst all the lack of sleep, singing my lungs out and the icy chill of Chicago…I managed to develop a cold. I know mom…I shouldn’t have stayed out so late and I should have brought a warmer jacket, but at the time I wasn’t really thinking that far ahead. Last night was a different story…as I almost died from choking on my own snot…my life (ok fine…my trip) flashed before my eyes and I reevaluated my plans for the next week. The plan had been: work, play, sleep, work, play, sleep, work, play, sleep. Now the plan is more like: work and play while you sleep.

Here I sit at work, hacking up a lung with my glassy sad eyes and used-tissue barricade that warn people to stay away. The people in the office seem to get it and are steering clear for the most part. The people who are emailing me with all sorts or ridiculousness...not so much.

Monday, November 12, 2007

Yep…I’m A Cutter

Don’t worry…no need for an intervention…it isn’t that kind of cutting. I am a graphic designer with horrible overuse of the die cut. Odd shapes…unexpected cutouts…I am all about them. My problem is that when I create such diecuttie creations…I have many many drafts. This wouldn’t be a big deal (unless you are one of those…paperless people) for most people, but for me, as a cutter, it is quite painful.

You see, each draft needs to be cut out. How can anyone viewing my draft see the true brilliance of the piece if it isn’t cut out? Hence my strong attachment to my scissors and other cutting paraphernalia.

Today I am working on what can only be described as a giant doily…and as such…has required me to spend my day hunched over the cutting mat with my exacto knife for basically five hours. My neck hurts and I have blister on my finger and I have at least 10 versions of this thing cut out on my desk now…on second thought…maybe I do need an intervention.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Full Member of the Pen 15 Club As of 11 A.M. This Morning

Ah San Francisco…the city by the bay…where people wear flowers in their hair and always leave their hearts behind. Cable cars, the Golden Gate Bridge, the sourdough…so many wonderful things are part of this beautiful city. What is my favorite? Hmmm…so hard to choose.

You know what isn’t hard to choose though? The worst thing in San Francisco. This is an easy one for me since I witnessed it today with my own eyes.

It was a lovely Sunday morning. The sunshine was peaking through the fluffy cloud cover in warm golden beams. The smell of wet pavement from the last night’s rain reached my nose as Boyfriend and I headed out of the city after a soccer game. As we looked out the window we saw joggers and people walking dogs…and oh…look there…a guy standing on the corner shaking something. “What is he shaking?” I asked myself as we neared his location. As we got closer I noticed the liquid stream that was also involved and the floppy pink protrusion that he was shaking. Yes…this man was peeing. Into the street. No attempt to hide it. OH. MY. GOD.

Appalled…that is what I am…APPALLED!

Saturday, November 10, 2007

If You're a Slacker and You Know It...Clap Your Hands

I fully intended to end my brief-post streak today as I am finally home and had more than five minutes to myself for the first time in weeks. But that didn’t happen. Instead, I decided to spend all day catching up on my Ugly Betty and Chuck and snuggling with my puppies. I thought I could multitask with the blogging and snuggling…but Gus was pressing so closely that single-handed typing was as much as I could muster.

So yeah…this is what you get. Live with it.

Friday, November 9, 2007

SOOOOO Not My Fault!

I totally have been posting every goddamn day in November! Too bad the fancy Fairmont had the internet speed of Mr. and Mrs. Slowsky. (Push It!) No seriously…it wasn’t slow. It was nonexistent. Apparently the types that stay at the Fairmont with their private butlers and their colostomy bags don't need internet access.

Now that I am back in the world on the technologically living (paying a whopping $10 to use the airport wireless) I will fix my posts. But anyone who knows me…knows that I am committed to the mission. This better not wreck my chances of getting a prize.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

Shut In

I have now been in Chicago for nearly a week and I haven’t seen much of it. Mostly the inside on my hotel room and its room service tray or the convention center. But tomorrow is the last of my responsibility and I am determined to explore this wonderful city. And by explore I mean take a cab to the nearest department store and buy things that I could have bought at home.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007


I have lost my voice. It is gone, missing, nowhere to be found. I try to say "hello" and "squeak" comes out. Apparently singing “hold on loosely” and “highway to hell,” at the top of you lungs will do that to a person.

But even if I could talk, which I can’t, I wouldn’t be able to hear myself over the ringing in my ears.

I went to a work event tonight and the performer was a bunch of has-beens from Journey, Chicago and other similar bands who are called “Big People.” Have you ever heard of a lamer (yes I know it isn’t a word but it is perfect for describing this band) band name? I didn’t think so. And yet, regardless of lameness, they rocked the house.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007


Chicago? In November? Really? What moron decided that was a good time and place for a conference.

I am sitting here in my parka in my fancy hotel room contemplating starting a small fire in the corner to thaw my nose out, because no matter how far I crank the thermostat remains just above zero up in here.

Yes I am a wussy Californian, used to my cushy state with its lavish sun and overly-temperate weather, but seriously…ITS COLD!

I would write about the Mr. Chatterbox and Stinky McStinkison that I sat between on flight here or the near fire-breathing rage that I experienced earlier today…but unfortunately as the temperature of my fingers drops, my number of typos increases…and just trying to type this has taken like four hours.

Monday, November 5, 2007

Yes This is Filler…You Wanna Make Something Of It?

I had this super post all planned out in my head as I suffered further nightmares in my travels…it was going to be super. But unfortunately I am running on an hour and half of sleep and for a girl who prides herself on solid 12-hour sleep nights…that is rough stuff. Delirious with sleepiness (insert maniacal laughter followed by a crying jag here), that brilliant gut-busting post will have to wait until tomorrow.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Technical Difficulties?

I’m blogging at cha from the San Jose airport…where I have been, and will continue to, sit for hours. Apparently the plane that I should be on and 10 minutes closer to Chicago in is having a generator problem.

Ok fine…things happen…I get that. What I don’t get is this…the airline employee just came on over the loud speaker and said, “Ladies and gentlemen…may I have your attention. Our flight is going to be delayed this morning due to a generator problem in the plane. This is a very simple problem to fix, but our San Jose mechanics can’t fix it. So we have called the San Francisco mechanics and they will be coming down to fix the problem. This should take anywhere from one to two hours. Thank you for your patience.”

This information not only annoys me because I must remain here…sitting on the dirty airport floor, leaning against a trashcan…but it also worries me. Maybe I am reading this wrong, but it seems to me that the airline is basically saying, “our mechanics are incompetent.” Doesn’t inspire much confidence. Maybe I should always fly out of San Francisco now…at least their mechanics can fix a generator.

UPDATE: If you call United Airlines’ 800 number they will tell you that they can “provide you with up-to-the-minute information on flight arrivals and departures.” Well it is a good thing that I am smarter than the automated man…because he says that my flight is 2 hours delayed…but I know that it is FREAKING CANCELLED! It is also super than United has its act together and as a replacement for my 8 am flight they can get me on a red eye with a stopover in Phoenix if I haul ass to OAKLAND! Don’t worry I am smarter than that lady too and I got on a reasonable flight…I guess I’ll just hang out at the airport. It won’t be too bad…I have a whole clan of University of Washington marching band geeks who are kinda entertaining in a I-want-to-spoon-my-eyes-out-dear-god-I-hope-I-was-never-like-that kind of way.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

Halloween…Take Two

I know that Halloween was here and has gone this year, but when Halloween falls on a stupid day like a Wednesday, the masked debauchery is likely to span both weekends before and after.

So I have Halloween party tonight and I am a little anxious about it…not for the normal reasons either. About a month ago (with lots of beer in us) boyfriend and I had the most brilliant costume idea. Discussing our plan we got giddy with excitement. This was truly the most original and funny costume ever.

Over the past month I have tried to keep the costume secret (for extra effect) but have needed to tell a few people, just to share our brilliance. These are some selected responses:

“That is kinda messed up”
“Are you sure want to do that?”
“You are going to HELL!”

So…um…yeah…the costume is a little blasphemous…a little persecutive…and apparently not that funny to my closest friends…oops. I can’t even bring myself to reveal what it is here for fear of death threats.

I just hope we don’t get beat down be an angry mob of zealots.

Friday, November 2, 2007

My Little Living Garbage Disposal

Here is a close up of my special pumpkin from Halloween:

my pumpkin

Concerned about the hoodlums in my neighborhood and the safety of my work of art, I brought the pumpkins inside for the night. When I got home from work yesterady...this is what I discovered:


Notice the difference? It is subtle…but if you look hard you can see that…oh…the little pumpkin is missing. “Where could it go?” you might ask. It doesn’t have legs…it can’t just walk away. I searched the house, looking for some trace of my little pumpkin. I found none…until I went out to do my daily pooper-scooper duty. Ah…I see (don’t worry I will spare you the photo of that one).

Apparently Gus got a little snackish in the middle of the night and decided to help himself to a midnight pumpkin nibble.

Not that this behavior is all that shocking. Gus has a habit of eating questionable things. Rags, earrings, my face…but the most disturbing thing he ever ate has burned an image on my mind…nylons. Seems rather harmless right? Think again. The eating and swallowing of the nylons was not the bad part. The disturbing part was when he came tearing through the house butt tucked under him, squealing and looking back at the thing trailing behind him. The elasticity of nylons might be helpful in smoothing ripples in thighs…but not so good for the digestive track. I donned my dish gloves and assisted my pup with his…ok…I’ve relived enough…you get the picture. Anyway…the hoodlum kids didn’t get my pumpkins…instead it was my hoodlum dog.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

Pay No Attention to the Women With the Furry Feets

My brain is on overload these days. There is a finite number of things that I can remember and I have exceeded my limit. You would think that would mean that I would be forgetting a few things here and there…but you would be wrong. Apparently the overload is causing an entire system meltdown and keeping me from accomplishing the most simple daily tasks like...say…remembering to wear shoes.

Oops…I left the house this morning for work in my fuzzy sheepskin slippers. Über professional.

On a completely unrelated side note…my friend Jen got a package today. It was a platypus letter opener / pâté spreader. Everyone must have one of these…civilization depends upon it.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Happy Whore-a-ween!

Am I the only chick who doesn’t want to wear my underwear outside for Halloween?

Forget for a second the females ages 18-35 who give new meaning to “trick” or treat ever year. That has always been the case…sexy cat, sexy devil, sexy witch, sexy lobster. And I can even overlook the over 40 set reclaiming their youth in the same costumes. The disturbing trend that I noticed for the first time this year was the preteen (and younger) market for costumes with slits up to their hoo-has and tops that show off their completely unnecessary training bras. Um…parents…wtf?


Tuesday, October 30, 2007

An Irrational Fear of Patchouli

Disclaimer: This post may be mildly offensive to hippies, frat boys, feminists, and generally anybody from Oregon…so yeah…sorry.

Take a look at this:

l_6d007ef3113aadc01a597a89cee7acbd copy

“How could anyone hate this place? How could anyone leave it?” said my friend who shot this picture on a weekend visit to this serene scene. How? I’ll tell you how…

I am all for recycling...I love a good tree hug as much as the next person…yes I own a hemp satchel…but at some point a reasonable person has to draw a line. I drew this line four years ago.

It was a rainy November morning in Eugene, OR (not that that is any different from any other morning because it rains every goddamn day there). The temperature in my apartment had reached an all-time low as I awoke to my muffled alarm through my fuzzy moose earmuffs. I shuffled through my damp and moldy apartment to the kitchen where a batch of my roommates “specialty” (mac and cheese mixed with tuna and franks and beans…I’ll wait while you run to the bathroom to hurl) sat crusting over from the night before.

I willed myself into the shower and then into my “clothes” (pajamas + parka = clothes) and hauled ass to my calculus class in the pouring rain.

On the way I walked down Greek row where the “oh my god”s and the “DUDE!”s reverberated back and forth between the buildings and what’s that I hear? A collective retching coming from that sorority house?

Onward past the feminists screaming at some poor male who got a little too close and the druggies hackysacking and the yeehaws spitting their chew in my path and speaking loudly of hunting and logging.

I passed the graveyard with the creepy kids in black who pretend they are vampires and sleep on the graves and do god knows what else.

Soaked to the bone, I began to hear the drums outside the president’s office (right next door to where Animal House was filmed). The protesters were banging their drums in protest but the hippies didn’t seem to mind. They turned out in droves to dance half naked in the rain to the protest drums. Even through the downpour I could smell them…body odor and patchouli…the scent made me want to turn around, but a band of naked muddy hippie children had gathered at my back, so I broke into a run…past the Tuesday morning bible study…past my classroom altogether and back toward my apartment.

“Screw class…I can’t take this today,” I muttered as I pealed the drenched clothing off me and jumped into my bed with its contraband heating blanket that if my roommate would have know about she would of killed me for using $2 more energy to avoid hypothermia.

People who have visited the U of O ask me, “How could you leave such a beautiful campus?” It is because if you stick around for longer than a week you will see a lot more of what I described than what is pictured above.

No offense Oregon…you have some nice rivers stuff.

Monday, October 29, 2007


Ok…so I told myself I wouldn’t actually write about this whole nablopomo thing. Kinda a cop out to blog about how I have to blog everyday in November. I bet a resourceful blogger could get at least a week out of that subject. Well…I just failed so I might as well go with it.

I am not complaining about the 30 consecutive days of blogging…I signed up for it after all. But November?!?! I can’t think a more inconvenient month. Maybe next year I’ll do the ashblopomo thing and choose a better month like May.

Friday, October 26, 2007

A Fine Line Between Love and Torture

I went to Target last night after work. I did my normal path…I started looking at purses and scarves and hats, moved on towards cards and candles, breezed through house wares, dillydallied in the sporting goods and came face to face with my nemesis…doggie section…dun dun DUNNNNN!

As much as I tell myself that purse dogs and animals in sweaters are ridiculous…I am drawn to the array of designer doggiewear that sits before me. Gus likes clothes (maybe he doesn’t, but I tell myself that he is cold and needs to wear a sweater when we go to the outside hour-long puppy good citizenship class) and so he has his pumpkin costume (cause he’s my little punkin’) that he puts up with for the 15 minutes that I make him wear it to take a picture with my phone and send it to everyone I know.

Talulah…different story. She even chews holes in her leash…she is not a fan of constricting cloth. But while at target I found this…OMG…how can I resist? Luckily…all of the remaining costumes were in teacup size, so she got of scoff free…this year. But then I went online and found this…next Halloween is going to be AWESOME!

I continued my trek through the Target store and past the mountains of Halloween candy without buying any…ok fine…I bought a bag…ok fine…I bought three…but they were on sale…three for $5…and who cares if I didn’t have a single kid come to my house last year…maybe this year will be different…either that or I will eat three bags of candy by myself…again. Tis the season…for pulling out the fat clothes.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

The Return of Feisty Thursday

I am full proponent of the Feisty Friday tradition, but this Feisty Thursday stuff is a little overkill, even for a grouchyface like me. Two days in a row of pure feist is hard to handle, not only for me, but my coworkers, friends and family. I literally stuck my tongue out at my boss today. Some place that crap could get me fired. Luckily she responded likewise and threw a paper clip at me (as you can see…also a fan of the feistiness).

Smart-ass comments and general snarkiness aside, my attitude is pretty well justified as it has been a pretty shitty week. Bad news comes in threes eh? Not so much this week…more of a continuous downpour of nastiness.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007


I am having a bad hair day. It sounds so trivial…but it is really having adverse effects on me. Not only does my mane make me crinkle up my face in disgust when I catch my reflection in the mirror (which makes my look doubly attractive), but it is also causing some workplace hazards.

The crazy wispy new hairs that frame my face are tickling my nose and making me sneeze. The force of the sneeze not only caused me to eject a small piece of granola from my mouth this morning (it is still sitting there stuck to my cubicle partition…ok that is really gross…I just removed it) but it also triggered a spasm of epic proportions in my neck.

Those of you who know me…know that I don’t really do anything with my hair…I hardly ever even brush it. It is always my favorite when someone says to me, “did you do something new with your hair?” The response is usually something like, “uh…I brushed it a little…kinda…with a plastic fork?” So understanding that about my grooming habits…take a second to think about what it might mean for a girl like me to have a “bad” hair day.

It is pretty bad.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

I Can Think of Nothing Worse

Do you remember that horror movie? The one where some guy is walking to his car and there is a bad guy lying under the vehicle who slashed his Achilles tendon? It was a sucky movie…don’t even remember which one it was…but that scene is etched in my mind.

Kinda like the scene this weekend.

Boyfriend and his brother-in-law join a soccer league. Woo fun! They aren’t very good yet…but most of them haven’t played since high school…so they will get better.

Anyway…I was watching* from the bleachers, at least 15 feet from the sideline. And about three quarters of the way through the game, Boyfriend’s bro goes to start running and I hear a SNAP, CRACKLE, POP. It was more just a pop…but it was freaking loud. At first I thought he kicked his cleats together…but then he went DOWN. The man severed his mother-effing Achilles tendon. WTF? He was just running? Can that really happen?

I got him ice and touched the back of each ankle…left side normal…right side…holy squishy grossness Batman!

Stuff like this is the very reason that I avoid physical activity. My ankles hurt just thinking about it. I think I am going to get me a rascal and just forgo the possibility of injury altogether. You never know what risks will arise as you walk…anywhere.

*I don’t play…apparently I never learned to run right. No seriously…apparently this freak doesn’t know how to do the thing that every moron with legs can handle. I am working on this…but with my whole hatred of physical exertion, it is kinda hard to work on my running technique since I kinda like to stop and rest after 20 feet.

Monday, October 22, 2007

U is for Uterus

Ok…if you are a squeamish male, I encourage you to cover your eyes and ears simultaneously and scream “lalalalalalalala,” for the duration of this post.

Holy hell! I have cramps. I’m talking junior-high-mom-needs-to-write-you-a-note cramps.

Last night, while trying to relay the type of sensation that menstrual cramps entails to Boyfriend, I could not find a good comparison. It isn’t like a broken bone, or getting kicked in the balls. It is incommunicable to males. The only way that I could really get the feeling across was to describe what is actually happening to a woman during “that time of the month.”

It is the ripping disintegration of the soft bloody tissue that lines the uterus, sound fun boys? No it doesn’t. It sucks.

So yeah…give me some Midol and a heating pad…I’m going back to bed.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

What Was I Going to Blog About?

God knows I can’t remember. Today’s blog is brought to you by the word “distraction” the number “14” and the letter “F.”

The number 14 is how many times I have muttered the words, “what the heck was I doing?” under my breath today.

The word distraction is the theme of my day as I jump from half-finished task to half-finished task with reckless abandon.

The letter F is the grade I would give myself on my productivity today.

So you can easily see that today would be a great day for me to tell you that the meaning of life is…ooo…look…something shiny.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007


Awhile back I found this (sorry if it was from you…it was a long time ago and I don’t remember how I found it). Anyway, I found it rather entertaining and passed it on to several friends. We all picked our favorites. Mine was the Blobfish. He looked so sad and I felt for him. My friends laughed as they read the description and exclaimed, “You are a Blobfish!”

It was funny at the moment, but as the weeks have gone by I have had an awakening…maybe I actually am a Blobfish. Let us discuss its characteristics:
  1. It is rarely seen by humans…I’m getting better, but I am still a bit of a hermit.
  2. The flesh of the blobfish is primarily gelatinous…nuf said.
  3. It floats above the sea floor without expending energy…not so much with the floating or the sea floor, but I can definitely be a lazy sack.
  4. It lacks muscle…I’m weak sauce.
  5. It primarily swallows edible matter that floats by in front it…this is the one that is truly hitting home and disturbing me…I must expound below.
I don’t eat lunch at work. I try and only eat when I am actually hungry. But I have noticed that the Blobfish style of eating is really what I practice. Put food in front of me…I will eat it. This is especially problematic around the holidays and when you work for a construction company that likes to keep the big burly men fed well at all times. My real issue with this practice goes back to Blobfish characteristic number two.

Why can’t I be a gazelle or a tiger…something remotely unlame?

Tuesday, October 16, 2007


Ok…are you ready? Today is official “Work All Day” day. That means 24 hours of full work. No breaks, no chit-chat, no eating. Just work. Don’t even try to take one of those girly pee breaks…that is against the rules. Food? Water? Pshaw!

Who is with me?!?!


P.S. Yes I know…I broke the rules with the 2.5 minutes it took me to blog this. But come on…I’m doing a public service. You totally would have forgotten National Workaholic Day if I hadn’t reminded you. NOW GET BACK TO WORK!

Sunday, October 14, 2007

A Sandy Beach…In Your Pants!

Pismo was great fun…once you got past the rain, the fog, the cold and the hurricane-strength winds. Other than that (and the sand-filled orifices) it was super fun.

The one thing that never ceases to amaze me are the differences between male and female motor skills. Not motor skills like moving fingers and toes or speaking…but skills involved in motor vehicles. I am not saying women are inferior drivers…actually in many cases I could put together a pretty compelling argument to the contrary. What I am talking about is more the style and aggressiveness of male verses female drivers.

Is absolute fearlessness in men an inherent trait? Cause I don’t know about you, but when I sit atop of mountain of sand with nothing but air below me…the first thought that comes into my mind isn’t, “hey lets jump off this shit!” That might be the last thing from my mind actually…but inexplicably, there are boys blowing past me, leaping off this sand cliff.

“If they can do it, I can do it.” I tell myself. But regardless of my inner monologue, I am not loving the idea of the images in my mind of all the things that could possibly go wrong…mostly involving limbs flailing and skulls cracking.

I finally mustered the courage…and I did it. It wasn’t bad. But that didn’t make me ready to dive off every crazy dune I came across for the rest of the day. The boys can be crazy…I’ll stick to the path with least risk…that nice sloping one.

Friday, October 12, 2007

Nature or Nurture?…You Be the Judge.

I was writing an instructional letter to a friend who is going to feed my dogs, and while reading it back, the sheer ridiculousness of my animals finally struck me. I thought I would share an excerpt of this letter with you for your entertainment/disapproval/amazement:
The dog food is in the laundry room. I recommend filling the bowls on the ironing board, because if you do it on the floor they will knock it all over and probably knock you on your ass.

When you are filling the bowls, Talulah will start on your left and Gus on your right. Fill the scoop even with the top and put one scoop in each bowl, at which point they will switch sides (so don’t trip on them). Close the food container before you put the bowls down or else they will knock it over.

When you pick up the bowls, Talulah will jump up and down a little while Gus will crouch down and skid himself along the wall and then in a circular pattern into the family room. Straddle the doorway between the laundry room and the family room and tell them to sit. Tell them to “leave it” (several times as you put the bowls down…one in front of Gus in the family room and one in front of Talulah in the laundry room). Tell them “ok” and they will begin to scarf down their food (it only takes about 30 seconds). As soon as they start eating….close the laundry room door between them.

Gus will finish first, so wait another 10 seconds or so to let Talulah out and then pick up their bowl immediately. Congratulations…you have fed them.
Wow…I should probably give her a medal just for attempting to feed these monsters. I won't even go into the why...but just trust me when I tell you that every detail in this is necessary.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007


What did you say? Are you mumbling? Speak up!

Ok…so its not you…its me.

You know when you are on an airplane and there is that poor annoying kid, shrieking at the top of their lungs because their precious little ears can’t take the pressure and they have no other way to communicate their pain than to scream bloody murder? That was me today.

I have been off the plane for hours now, but my ears don’t seem to grasp that fact because they still hurt like hell and the world sounds like I have stuffed large cotton balls into my ear holes (which I don’t remember doing).

I have tried all the conventional methods…swallowing, yawning, plugging my nose and blowing, jumping up and down on one leg while yanking on my ear lobes (yeah…I had never hear of that one either, and they were probably just trying to see if I would do it, but I am desperate and am ok with a little ridicule on the off chance that it might work).

And I get to go on a plane again…any ideas?

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

I awoke with a start as the pouring rain slammed my windowpane. A flash of lightning illuminated the clock on the wall…midnight…exactly.

As my sleepy eyes adjusted to the dark, a shadow materialized in the corner of my bedroom, its large and ominous shape silhouetted against the wall at the foot of my bed. I gasped and pulled my blankets up under my chin, as if that would protect me.

I felt the lump of panic rising in my throat. I looked for an escape…none to be found. I thought about screaming for help but my voice had inexplicably disappeared.

A strange crinkling noise marked each move closer and closer to me. And then it was upon me…taking all the air from my lungs. I gasped for a breath while its razor-sharp edge sliced small painful cuts across my knuckles.

As one more flash of lightning revealed my attacker’s face I shrieked in horror at…the biggest…to-do list…ever.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

October is National Reach Out and Touch Someone Month

It is also the start of a flurry of busyness for me that will last for at least three more months.

So the question is: Why do I choose early October to reach and touch people? It is like a crazy pattern for me. Late September and early October…I don’t know if it is the ending summer or the contemplative mindset leading up to my birthday…whatever it is…it causes me to look up old friends and reconnect.

This year was no different. I managed to reconnect with at least six long-lost friends. Now what? Well I am too busy to maintain those renewed connections, so they will go by the wayside until next year.

In the meantime I have emails amounting in my inbox from these people, wondering why I am such a tease…email them once and never call again. Those emails mock me and make me feel like a bad person.

So what do I do? I blog about it instead of using these ten minutes to email them back. Reasonable choice…right? Yeah I know...I suck.

Monday, October 8, 2007

Can I Go to Bed Yet?

My week is going to be hellish. I can tell. Today was my “easy” day and I just got to eat for the first time here when I got home at 9:12 pm. This week is packed with meetings and chores and lists and other things that give my anxiety medication a run for its money.

The only thing that is getting me through is a beautiful vision of a handsome man on an expanse of sand with a big blender and margarita mix. My hero!


Friday, October 5, 2007

How Many Ashleys Does it Take to Kill a Plant?


I have what they call a black thumb. Cut flowers are perfect for me…because regardless of soil and roots, if you give me a plant it will be dead in 4-7 days. But I managed to murder my most recent green gift in a record 2 days.

My wonderful Aunt gave me a lovely plant and I put it safely in the back seat of my car.

“I am totally going to forget about it,” I said as I shut the car door.
“Don’t worry, I’ll remind you,” said my wonderful boyfriend.

Next day…at work…

“Did you remember to get you plant out of the car?” said the wonderful boyfriend.
“NO! I suck! I will do it in a minute,” I said as I wrote a giant post-it with the word “PLANT” and stuck it to my computer screen.

36 hours pass…I go out to the car and find my poor pathetic plant…DEAD!

I am a horrible person and I am going to hell.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Networking Tips for the Socially Stunted

Networking can be tricky business. Here are my simple steps to mediocre success in a social situation. Watch and learn:
  1. Stand with your back to a wall…that way you can see everyone who might come up and try to talk with you.
  2. Make sure to wear lots of jewelry so you have something to play with to look busy.
  3. When you can’t think of anything to say, just giggle and mumble a little…people will think you are talking but will be too polite to ask you to speak up when they think they can’t hear you over the party noise.
  4. Eye contact is dangerous…don’t do it…or else people will talk to you.
  5. Eat…a lot…it isn’t polite to talk with your mouth full.
  6. Find the one person you know and glom on…don’t let go.
  7. When all else fails…break into a almost jog and go in and out of doors like you are doing something super important.
With these easy techniques you can be just as much of a party goober as I am.

What Ever Shall I Wear?

Usually I get dressed in 60 seconds flat. This morning was different. I don’t know if it was the pressure of a work networking event, the amount of food I’ve eaten over the past week that has translated to my midsection or just some fluke of negative self-image…but this morning everything in my closet looked like garbage.

People who have helped me move or have seen me on laundry day understand the vast cavern that is my wardrobe. I inherited this trait from my mom…I am a clothing collector. I have enough articles of clothing to clothe a whole army of twenty-somethings with questionable fashion sense.

If I had the guts to actually record it, I would take a picture of my room right now and you would see a pile as tall as me of pants on my bed and not a single thing on a hanger in the closet.

I finally settled on the most boring outfit I own…paired with the fiercest purple pumps. Ahhh…shoes…the fat girl’s best friend.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Why So Bitter?

Life is good.

But I guess that isn’t so obvious from my blogging.

It was brought to my attention that my last posts have been a little angry. I’m not angry, so I did a little soul searching. I think that my blog is possibly the most healthy and cathartic thing for me. Apparently I can pour all of my angry feelings out into this text and manage to put a lot of the rage that would normally fester under the surface right out in the open.

Preblog, I probably would have had at least an emotional breakdown per month. But now…I can rage about stupid little things like misplaced scissors and stupid cabbies and that releases my bitter energy so I can cope. Who needs therapy when there is blogger?

So, to break the bitter cycle…I will share a joke that I was told yesterday by a very classy lady (you can tell from the joke):

Q: What kind of panties do clouds wear?

A: Thunderwear!

Ok…giggle inside…its ok…nobody is looking.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Damn You Society and Your Social Constructs of Beauty

I was driving to work this morning and I reached behind my seat to grab my makeup bag to start the daily masking ritual. I felt around to the left. I felt around to the right. I came to a stop in traffic and craned my neck around to look. No makeup.


I had to make the choice then and there…go home and get the makeup or just power through the day without it. I pulled down my visor mirror and gasped...I had to go home.

On my way back to the house I fumed. I fumed about being an idiot and forgetting my makeup, but that quickly turned into anger over the fact that I HAVE to wear makeup at all. It isn’t so much about my self confidence; it is more about not wanting to waste my day explaining myself. Because I know that not wearing makeup will invite all sorts of looks:
  • The concerned person who comes up and says, “are you not feeling well?”
  • The one who looks at me with pity and says, “you look so tired.”
  • The insensitive guy who will undoubtedly ask, “what is wrong with you?!”
  • The disgusted one who will tell me to “go home” less for my benefit and more so they don’t have to look at me.

Monday, October 1, 2007

Kinda Like Hot Dog on a Stick

I feel like puke on a stick. Good visual...just think about it and try not to throw up a little in your mouth.

Anyhow, I am not sure what is wrong with me. It could be the fact that I sat in the sun for two days straight with no hat or sunscreen. It could be that I slept in the freezing cold outside. It could be that I ate way more than my fair share of mountain man food (MEAT!). It could be that I drank enough Coors in a can to drown a mini horse. It could be one of those things…but chances are that it is all of them coming together to create a perfect storm of yuck in my system.

Friday, September 28, 2007

A Bad Day A-Brewin’

I think I should have a reality television crew. Not because my life is particularly interesting, but because on those few tragically pathetic days, I think people could get some real humor out of the comedy of errors that is my life.

Today is shaping up to be one of those days.

I fell down in the parking lot…I tripped over…well…nothing. I just fell for no reason. It kinda hurt…but it was kinda funny so I laughed a little and some guy came around the corner and saw me kneeling on the ground giggling to myself in the middle of the parking lot…he thought I was crazy and took a wide berth. I walked into the building and got onto the elevator. I waited…it was taking a long time. I waited. The door opened, and someone got on…still on the first floor. They informed me that I had to press the button of the floor I wanted to go to.

That is just the story of my five minute trip from car to desk. That doesn’t include the load of shit that fell on me after I made it to that desk or the stabbing pain behind my eye right now that is causing me to want to go back and lay in the middle of the parking lot again.

Happy Fucking Friday!

Thursday, September 27, 2007

I Heart Ruler

I have a strange attachment to office supplies. Nothing creepy…but I definitely feel an unnatural emotional link between me and my cube accoutrement.

I keep a special stash of various sizes of purple and yellow post-its…not the average everyday canary yellow ones but the darker and richer yellow. I have these rad scissors that have a hidden blade on the handle to open boxes (or stab unsuspecting scissor nappers). I have the metal ruler with cork backing that I have had for at least ten years. I have a scotch tape dispenser that works like a packing tape dispenser with the little mini handle and everything. I love these things. I protect them. Don’t steal my ruler because I will kick you (and I will know you stole it because I wrote my name on it in sharpie).

I don’t mind sharing…I am not a selfish person. But finding my scissors across the room is a little distressing. What if I decided to move your car and park it a block away. I know…jacked up!

It’s the golden rule folks…do unto my office supplies as you would want me to do unto you…or something like that…I’m a heathen…you get the drift.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Shut Up Inner Ashley! I Can’t Hear What the REAL People are Saying

It is a wonder that I have any friends at all. Seriously, I don’t like meeting new people. Not because I don’t like people, but I hate the awkward conversing parts. It is so much easier to talk to people who get me or have a clue what I am talking about.

It is hard to talk to a person when your inner monologue is moving as fast as your lips are, saying, “Why did you say that? That sounds stupid. God shut up! You are talking too damn fast. That sounded bitchy. Did you just roll your eyes? God! Why DID you say that? First impressions loser.”

A little look into my brain. A little self critical I know, but aren’t we all. That may be why I enjoy this blogging thing. I can write what I mean. Yes, text can be misinterpreted, but at least I have the opportunity to hit the delete key when something completely moronic flows from my fingers.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Dance Monkey! Dance!

Apparently my “big girl blog” is not “big girl” enough. So…I am going to be the master of my own domain. Only problem…this master isn’t so good at making decisions. So it is going to be more of a democracy and I am going to be more of the tap dancing monkey who performs a little show for you each day.

As my constituents, this is your first responsibility…help me choose my domain name. Here is what I have so far…please give input or other suggestions:

P.S. update on the crazy from yesterday…I finished sorting my post-its, and apparently, during the night, some horrible person decided to steal a single blue pad of post-its. What the hell am I going to do with the six other colors?!?!

Monday, September 24, 2007

Next Stop...Loonytown

I do not have any problems with my craziness. I have embraced it over the years and I have come to truly believe that “normal” people are one of two things:

1) boring
2) fooling themselves

I agree that there is a certain level on the crazy scale where crazies no longer are quirky and odd but become downright scary, but I pay special attention to my own crazy to make sure that if I ever notice myself climbing the scale, I know to go seek professional help.

Lately I have noticed things in myself that do indicate an increase in crazy, but they can’t possibly foretell any crack-up or postal moments, can they? I should probably go to a professional, but I feel like my seven loyal readers understand my mental state much better than any shrink can…so help a girl out…here are my symptoms:

The other day I was sorting post-its (yes the project in itself sounds crazy, but it was an actually demand of my job). I have seven different colors of post-it pads that needed to be grouped into packets of seven with each color represented. I carefully made four even stacks of each color in rainbow order and began to pick one color up at a time to put into the set. After about five sets, I realized that one of the four stacks in each color was getting lower than the others. This made me twitch a little. I quickly reorganized the stacks and changed my pick up pattern so that I took one from each pile each time to keep them even.

Today I went to the bathroom. I saw the two rolls of toilet paper that were exposed for use. The top one was nearly empty, about an eighth of an inch of paper left on the roll. It would make sense to use that roll up so that the roll could be replaced and nobody would risk being without paper…yes I know…I am over thinking the toilet paper…but I couldn’t do it. I had to even the rolls. I even took more paper than was needed to equalize the rolls a bit faster.

I just threw away six pieces of note paper with the exact same things written on them. I wrote the note first quickly to get the thoughts down. I copied it a second time but missed a word. I copied it a third time, but the ink from my pen made a little smear. I copied it a fourth time, but I didn’t like the way my printing looked. I copied it a fifth time, but I wrote too big in cursive and it didn’t fit on the paper. I copied it the sixth time and I finally got it right…just then the person that I was writing the note to, came over and I just told them what the note said and threw all six copies away.


Friday, September 21, 2007

Scabbie Cabbie

Here is my story of my trip to San Diego:

I arrived at San Diego airport with little event…which is always a good thing when you are flying. It was bright and sunny and warm as I deplaned and walked toward the ground transportation. I walked to the taxi queue and approached the next cabbie in line.

“I need to use a credit card.” I said, even though the “accepts all major credit cards” sign was clearly visible,
“Yes, yes, yes,” replied the cabbie.

I handed the driver my clearly written destination with the driving directions from the ever-trusted Google maps.

The 25 minute drive took a little more like 40 minutes as the driver took a completely different route…it was rush hour…maybe he knows better than me.

I arrived at my destination and handed the man my credit card.

“Oops, I forgot the machine,” he said, “you don’t have cash?”

Uh…wtf…forget the sticker on the window…I told you I was using credit. He proceeds to fumble around with some stuff on his passenger seat. He grabs a crinkled old carbon paper credit card receipt and rubs his pen over the thing on the dashboard to try to get an impression. It didn’t work. He tries it with a new one…FIVE F-ING TIMES! Finally he got one that was good. I signed it and asked for the other copies so that I could shred them. He takes them and tears them in half. “No, its ok…I destroy,” he says. I had to basically arm wrestle the man to get the used slips. He asked for my phone number so he could call me if there was a problem.


I go into the office and sit down and begin working. Ten minutes pass and then the cabbie calls me. We play 20 questions and then hang up. He calls back…I’m sorry the card is declined.

Bull Shit! I bought my diet coke and pack of gum with that card this very morning. He asks me to come back out to talk to him.


I go talk to the man and he is a bumbling idiot and is talking to his supervisor over the crackly radio. I give him another card. He does the same lame ass rubbing and finally I throw up my hands and say…take me to a bank…I’ll give you cash.

We rode a good 10 minutes to the bank (with the meter running) and I went in and got cash. But the ATM only gives 20s and it was a $50 cab ride. I asked him for a ten. Nope.


Back into the bank to get the 20 turned into two 10s. Back into the cab and back to the office (with the meter still running). I threw the $50 at him and took off before he could count it. No way I was paying for the ride to the bank.

All I have to say is…if you want to stay classy San Diego, you should work on those cabbies.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Ahhhh Autumn

I love fall. I really do. My birthday is in the fall. Halloween is in the fall. Thanksgiving, sweater weather and orange leaves are all part of the whole fall thing.

But I’m telling you…this year it really crept up and bit me in the ass. Wasn’t it like a week ago that I seriously believed that I was going to spontaneously combust from the goddamn heat? Wasn’t it summer yesterday? It is so cold. Cold and windy. Normally I would be ok with the changing seasons, but normally I would have some time to ease into it. I was caught unawares. I haven’t familiarized myself with my fall wardrobe. I’m not used to having to close my window at night. I am feeling so…so…cold.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Au Contraire

So I never really thought of myself as a procrastinator. I mean, I am, but I never thought of that as a defining characteristic. If you asked me to describe myself a month ago, I don’t think procrastinator would be in the top ten. Now, after rereading my blogopades of late, I think it actually might be in the top five.

I have my own timetable. I like to do things in my timetable and it actually makes me a little irritated when people ask me to do things on their timetable. When my mom used to ask me to clean my room when I was little I would tell her, “no mommy, I planned to clean it tomorrow morning before school.” Not because I had something else to do at that moment, but because I wanted to do it on my timetable. You could say I am a bit of a contrarian (one of my new favorite words and also in the top 10).

This morning I finally bit the bullet and gathered up all my unopened mail from the past…oh I don’t know…10 months. I noticed my overdue car registration, car insurance cancellation notice and a bunch of other stuff that probably would have been better if I opened it say...oh I don't know...10 months ago.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007


So the aforementioned idea

That one that was going to make me a millionaire…

That one that was going to take the world by storm…

Not so much.

If you recall my fears from the previous post:
a) it does exist and I am just behind the curve
b) it is cost prohibitive
c) nobody wants it but me

Here are the results of my research:
a) it does exist…apparently I just didn’t know what to call it
b) it is kinda cost prohibitive because they sell for a lot more than I thought they would be
c) most people seem to think they are tacky and cheesy

So…onto the next great idea.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Medusa Lives

I am a car makeup artist.

There…I admitted it. I know you hate my kind. But I am not the one who is putting on eyeliner while speeding down the freeway (most of the time). I am pretty good at getting most of my makeup in place without looking in the mirror and mostly at stop lights.

The reason for this is that my makeup lives in my car. I have tried keeping it in the house, but I always seem to then be without it when I need it. I have had many instances of showing up at school or at work without my normal makeup on. The reaction is always the same…people turn to stone. Well, not really…but they do get a pained look on there faces and then ask me if I feel well and encourage me to go home and spare them.

So I took my makeup inside (dummy) and today I was once again without it. So I improvised and borrowed some of my mom’s makeup.

I guess I never realized that my mother was a member of the Tammy Faye makeup club.


Sunday, September 16, 2007


I have the greatest idea!

I am about to take the world by storm. I would love to share it…and it isn’t that I don’t trust you…but I don’t know everyone on the internet and someone might try to steal my highly original plan…and I just can’t have that.

I am so excited about it that I can’t sleep. I must go write a business plan*.

*This is the kind of thing that keeps a business major up at night.

Don’t worry…I’ll be over it next week after I realize that the reason it doesn’t already exist is that, a) it does exist and I am just behind the curve, b) it is cost prohibitive, or c) nobody wants it but me.

Don't burst my bubble yet...I will do it myself.

Friday, September 14, 2007


The seasons, they are a changing. I know this for several reasons:
  • First, it is getting darker earlier…and that is lame. I hate feeling like it is bedtime at 6:30.
  • Second, it is staying dark longer…how am I supposed to find my socks in the pitch black of 6 am?
  • Third…I am shedding like a sheep dog.
There is possibly nothing worse. Boys don’t get it…they freak out about the few little hairs on the bathroom floor, on the pillow or in the sink. Amateurs! I am talking about enough hair falling out of my head on a daily basis to spin the yarn for small child’s sweater. GROSS, I know!

I sit, talking to coworkers, and casually laugh and run my fingers through my hair…snag…and my fist pulls out a chunk of detached strands…I nonchalantly throw it on the floor as coworker look on in horror.

I stand, trying to find the phantom hair that is tickling the back of my arm, with a wild look in my eyes like I am trying to catch the purple elephants flying around my head.

I hopelessly lint roll my fleeces trying to remove the hairs that have woven themselves into the fabric of my wardrobe.

So…yeah…too much information?

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Your Corndog is Made of What?

I have a friend, bless her heart, who has a very sad illness. Actually, I don’t know that she is sick, but she has one symptom in particular that really does worry me.

She can’t taste.

Today she told me about this wonderful healthful “peanut butter” that is made from sunflower seeds instead of peanuts (so it is really sunflower butter) that “tastes great.”

When she talks about this type of healthy “just like the original” replacement food, I take it with a grain of salt…or whatever she uses instead of salt.

Splenda, veggie burgers, dairy-less cheese...nonsense! This girl eats soy corndogs…I mean…wtf? There has got to be something wrong with her…right?

I am starting a charitable organization (still working on a name…thinking something like For Crying Out Loud Give that Girl Some Flava…ok…I like one…we will go with FCOL GGSF) to collect junk food and supplies to help cure this horrible disease.

Together we can help stop the madness and give the gift of flavor.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007


You know those friends…

The friends that you were so close to in high school that you thought you would live next door to one another, raise your kids together and start a folk jamboree with the 7 year old on the tambourine and the 2 year old prodigy on the triangle?

Those friends are great. What is particularly great about those friends is that, even after no contact for years, you can still hook back up and pick up where you left off.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Pests and Pests Who Kill Them

Like having termites isn’t bad enough. There is nothing more painful to a new homeowner than the T-word. It tears you up inside, you hear them gnawing at night, you wring your hands over the thought of your second story crashing down on your head as you watch Mythbusters. I have suffered this pain twice now in my new home over the past year and a half and have been relatively lucky (knock on uninfested wood) to have only minor damage from the little monsters. But even so…it is moderately distressing, and I think I deserve some sympathy for my plight. But no. Apparently, according to the nastiest exterminator in the world, I do not.

The only time possible for this guy to come dispose of my pests was Monday AND Tuesday between 10 and 5. Good God that is a ginormous time window, I thought to myself, but I arranged to be available on Monday and found someone to be there on Tuesday.

I waited, 10. I waited, 11. I waited, 12 noon! Where is this guy? 12:13 p.m. I hear banging and whistling coming from my backyard. Confused I go out to investigate. There is termite man with one hand and his head stuck in my gate banging on my fence.

Man: *whistle*
Me: Can I help you?
Man: Finally! (under breath…apparently whistling was supposed to get my attention better than, say, ringing my doorbell)
Man: Can you unlock your gate?
Me: It is unlocked…you just have to push
Man: (pushes gate and enters)
Me: Hi
Man: (no eye contact…silence)
Me: I was wondering if you could come into my house and do that part first so that I can leave for work.
Man: No
Me: Umm…ok…well do you know when you might be getting around to that part?
Man: No
Me: Is it going to be today?
Man: Later (shoos me away)

Now, I understand that termite murder may not be fulfilling work, and that the stupid girl asking silly questions might be generally annoying as you drip sweat and brush dirt and insects from you hands, but seriously…what a jerk.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Help! I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up!

I seriously think I might be in the market for one of these bad boys.

This morning I went to take my shower like usual. I shampooed my hair like usual. I looked down at my beastly unshaven legs, and while I contemplated just letting my inner tree hugger out, I decided to tackle the task at hand. I bent down…bad move. My muscles went into immediate spasm*. The ouchiness forced me back up, but a little too quickly because I bumped my head on the shower door and took a slight step back.

soapy foot + wet tile + sleepy disorientation = bruised tuchis

I lay there for a moment…on the shower floor...trying to decide if I should just go back to bed, because there is no way that a day that starts out like this one could be good, right? But on the other hand, it can only go up from here, right?

*The cause of my muscle problems is not sheer weakness and out-of-shapeness (although those are definitely contributing factors and I would not be surprised if I fell down only on account of those) but it is because of my heroic physical exertion over the weekend. Ok, it might not be heroic to most people, but I was my own personal hero…so that is good enough. I ran 2 miles on Friday, ran/walked 2 miles on Saturday (hey, I was tired…you try not running for 7 years and then going 2 miles…it will kill you), and took a 2 mile hike on Sunday. All of these places were hilly and I didn’t puke or pass out! Yay me.

Friday, September 7, 2007

Ship THIS!

I think I must have sent too many awkward-sized packages in a past life because the FedEx man has it out for me. Every frickin day that rat bastard parks right behind my car. EVERY DAY!

I leave work somewhere in the 4 to 5 p.m. range and every day there he is. Well…he isn’t there…but his big honking truck is. If he was there…I would give him the finger and a piece of my mind…maybe not…but I would definitely glare at him and mutter things under my breath.

I am stuck at the mercy of Mr. Purple Pants. Sometimes he toys with me a little by just making it barely impossible for me to get out of the spot. So I sit there and wait in the car for upwards of 10 minutes while he delivers…stuff. Someday FedEx man…some…day.

The only redeeming thing about FedEx is the commercial that they had a few years back:

Man walks into FedEx and says: “I would like to send this package to Puh-hoe-nix.”
Confused FedEx employee: “You mean Phoenix?”
Idiot customer: “FEEnix?!?! Haha!”

I swear…it was funny. I tried to find it on youtube, but apparently people don’t care about random 20 second spots for sucky letter carriers that ran four years ago.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Ain’t No Party Like a Wednesday Night Party

Here is my poem
Even though I do loath ‘em
About my Wednesday night of bowlin’

I drank way too much
And fell down and such
And did some good old ball rollin’

With three Miller Lights
And no end in sight
We headed to the alley a strollin’

The game it was fun
Three pitchers became one
And the beer it began to be tollin’

The game, it was finished
Our sobriety diminished
And the next morning it was upon us

We headed for home
We wished Drew “Shalom”
And headed upstairs with much slowness

Thursday it came
We greeted it with disdain
And were relieved to be mostly hangoverless

But alas we were wrong
The headache was strong
And now I need a cold compress

Goodness gracious…I have skills! Hangover poetry rocks the house!

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

From the Depths of the Bottomless Pit


I love my family, but there is one particular aspect of family outings that sucks. My family eats. They eat so freaking much. Family vacations are centered around where we will eat next. My dad actually planned a stop for dinner at Hal’s Eat ‘Em Up in Red Bluff, CA (a real gem) on the way to Oregon. Eating out three meals a day for three days is exhausting.

But aside from exhausting it sets a dangerous precedent. I have received a great deal of criticism for my stomach stretching theory. But it is proven right here. I just ate my normal two eggos for breakfast and I am still hungry. So I eat a nectarine…still freaking hungry. Eating with my family over the long weekend has apparently stretched my stomach to the size of…I don’t know…something big. So now I have to deal with the insatiable aching cavern that is my belly for at least a few days until it shrinks back down to normal size.

But until then…I AM STARVING!

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Puppy Love

I worked from home today. The best part about working at home is that I get to spend my day with my puppies. They are hardly puppies anymore, but I call them that to fool myself into thinking that their bad behavior is because they are still young and mischievous and not because I am a bad doggie momma.


Bailey and Morgan are their names but those names are all wrong. They were chosen with the family pet naming convention of all names having to do with alcoholic beverages, previous names include Brandy and Corky (I named him pre Life Goes On, and that caused all sorts or inappropriate “special” jokes throughout my childhood). So since I can’t rename them for fear of confusion when asking them to sit and stuff, I will rename them for blogging purposes to what they should be called, Gus and Talulah.


Gus is a love bug…some people seem to think he is autistic…but he isn’t…he is just a lump who happens to be a afraid of hardwood floors, plastic bags and hates it when he gets dingleberries.


Talulah is a feisty piece of work. She has what they call an overactive prey drive. Some of her victims have been a wasp, a small injured bird and even a squirrel…I will spare you the details of what she did to Ella the squeaky stuffed Elephant…it is not pretty. But check out those eyelashes…wouldn’t you just kill for that come hither look.

So I know that this post was kinda like the shameless, look at my cute kids, aren’t they cuter than yours thing. But that is ok. They are.

Monday, September 3, 2007

First Comes Love Then Comes Marriage...

No post for three days, heartbreaking I know. And to make it even worse…this post isn’t funny. So sorry. If you want a laugh, wait til tomorrow. For today…I’m waxing philosophical.

I spent my labor day in Oregon, a place I swore never to return to, celebrating the marriage of an old friend. Being 25 is a rough time in the realm of love and marriage. It feels like everyone that I went to school with is getting married and having kids. One by one, all my friends are getting married off. And for the most part, I am cynical. I don’t know why…I didn’t come from a broken family…but I find it difficult to not enter the pools of “how long will it last?”

But the wedding that I attended this weekend was different. Although very close when we were children, the bride and I had drifted a apart over the past 20 years or so, and just recently began communicating more. This wedding was beautiful. Every detail, every tradition, everyone was seamlessly included to make the most wonderful celebration.

They one thing that seemed absolute as my friends shared this multi-day wedding, was that this was “for real.” I never once doubted that these two people would be together forever. They are the most beautiful team. I found myself getting choked up over and over at this wedding, not the norm for this hardened realist. But what these two people have is unbreakable and fulfilling and extraordinary, the kind of thing that wakes a person up at 3:00 a.m. and forces them to write about it.

Friday, August 31, 2007

If I Were a Superhero…

I would be Captain Waits-til-the-Last-Second. My secret power would be…waiting so long to do stuff that when I actually get it done on time it literally blows people’s minds. A messy power, but effective none-the-less. Only problem is…I am still young and have not fully harnessed my superpower yet. So, sometimes, instead of impressing the pants off of people, I merely miss the deadline all together…not so super or powerful…just a little disappointing.

But never fear…I will come into my own one of these days. And evil doers look out…cause I will blow your mind…after I take a little nap…and maybe make myself a samich.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Okay Mr. Gore…I Believe You


Menopausal women have nothing on me. I might die from hotness. Not the good kind of hotness either…the kind of hotness where you are so sticky with fiery ovenlike heat that you want to take off you clothes and sit in a giant ice bath. Today is supposed to be equally roasty and I am not looking forward to it.

I also find myself conflicted in that while it was still 114 out this morning (I don’t have a thermometer, but I swear I don’t exaggerate) I know that it will be a breezy 60 at my desk all day. So I will shiver in my short sleeves inside or fry in my sweater outside. So I guess I have to dress in layers. But even if I came to work naked…I think I would still die from the rush of flaming heat that would hit my lungs when I leave work this evening. I hope to see you all tomorrow. If I don’t you, know what happened…

Here Lies Ashley
She Was Burned Alive
The End

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

All Dried Up

I have nothing to blog about!!! AHHH! My first day of absolute zero inspiration. Actually, I found several sources of inspiration, but I decided that having friends continue to speak to me was more important than some potentially hilarious posts. But let me tell you…they would have been funny. You would have peed a little when you read it. But I saved you from changing your pants.

Haha! I managed to squeeze one more day out…maybe something amazing will happen tomorrow with unicorns or squirrels that will inspire a fit of words to be remembered forever…or maybe not…and maybe tomorrow’s blog will be blank.

Wait and see...wait...and...see...

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Comin’ at cha from the Doctor’s Office

I have some time to kill as I sit here at the doctor’s office…actually more than some time. I have a lot of time, because an 11:40 doctor’s appointment means that you get to sit amongst the other waiters in the waiting room looking at stale crispy copies of Field and Stream, Family Circle and Highlights for at least a half hour. Then the clock continues to tick as nobody is called in and the smell of spaghetti being heated up in the lunchroom reaches your nose. At which point the army of pharmaceutical reps march in with their PDAs and rollie suitcases and somehow all get to see the doctor before you. And you know what will happen next:

They will call you in and you will utter “finally” under your breath as you go in and sit on the crunchy paper. And then…you wait some more, but you are never sure how long because, like the casinos, there are no clocks in the exam room and you politely turned off your cell phone.

So until they call my name…oh they just did…too bad in the past fifteen years every parent of a blond child has decided to name it Ashley. Because I am not the Ashley they were calling, and I just had a fairly awkward moment staring down 12 year old Ashley.

Ooo…Us Magazine from November 04…I wonder if Brad is cheating on Jen…

P.S. It went pretty much like I thought…but when the man-nurse took me to get weighed…he first tried me in the 100-149 lbs. range before moving the scale to the 150 group. Silly man-nurse…you flatter me so. Anyway the scale was at least 10…closer to 20 lbs. off so my doctor thinks I weigh almost what it says on my driver’s license now and that makes the whole visit worth while.

Monday, August 27, 2007

The Itchy and Scratchy Sho-o-ow

I am tired and grouchy and itchy. So don’t mess with me.

I had possibly the worst night sleep last night due to a random and inexplicable allergic reaction. I have been researching possible causes for all over itchiness without any sort of gross rash and so far either I am in end-stage liver failure or I have unknowingly started taking the meth.

Either way I have problems.

Satan is a Tree

Those of you how know me well, and even those who don’t know me as a bit of a hippie—a tree hugger if you will. I try to steer clear of hurting living things…animals, plants, people. But here is the one time in my life that I truly wish death upon a living thing.*


Awhile back my neighbor approached me with a proposition. My yucky thorny tree was dropping leaves in his pool, so he wanted permission to cut it down and replace it with two new non-devilish trees. Hey why not? He was paying for it and I was pretty sick of sweeping up the leaves on my side of the fence.

His team of tree experts came out and took care of Lucifer and “ground out the stump and removed the roots,” and planted two lovely ornamental pear trees.

So apparently this tree was the devil invegeate because its little shreds of roots went all terminator style on my yard and are coming up everywhere. I have sprouts of this hellish plant 20 feet from the old stump. AHHHHH! I pull and pull and spray and spray but it won’t DIE!

Anyone out there wanna make my little problem go away all quiet like? You know what I mean…whack, hit, burn, clip, ice, pop…make that tree sleep with the fishies…oooo…once you read the asterisk you will realize that was bad choice of words.

R.I.P. Morty.

*alright…there was one other time…high school…a bad fish named Mortimer…but I didn’t kill him…I got someone else to do it…Thanks Bev…you’ve always got my back.

On Procrastination

I have been a procrastinator since I was a wee one. I distinctly remember having a bumper sticker on my desk that said “procrastinate later,” when I was younger. Actually, I don’t think I had it because I was actually a big procrastinator…it was more just because I was proud of myself for knowing a big word like “procrastinate.” But regardless…at my current age…I have definitely adopted the “last responsible moment” approach or even the moment just after that.

I don’t really understand why I feel the need to wait to do stuff. Time after time I get burned. Case in point:

I have known for nearly a year of a friend’s wedding. Trying to be a thoughtful friend, I thought of a really nice hand-made gift and got started on it super early. Feeling pretty happy with my progress I put that project away. Fast forward eight months…the wedding is a week from today…and I am not done. Oops. No biggie…I’ll just work my ass off this weekend. Oh wait…there are no stores open this weekend in the bay area to buy the supplies I need? Oops. I guess I’ll just buy them something from their registry. Oh…there is nothing left on the registry? I suck.

I should stop procrastinating.

Emoticons Are Lacking

Feisty Friday is a tradition that I began with my little coworker corner and it has served us well. Friday comes around and we are a force to be reckoned with. We even snipe at each other and throw around some feisty name calling (“judgy,” “bitch” and the ever popular and mature “lameoface” are some of my favorites). I’m telling you…it can get ugly.

Feisty Friday came early this week…actually I’m not entirely sure that it ever left last week…and as a result I have found myself annoyed…A LOT!

Maybe it is just me and I am a raging bitch…but this happens to me fairly often. (And no boys…it isn’t because I am PMSing! Roar!) I need to work better at not letting things make me so mad. Like the word “color.” I spell it “color” because I was born and raised in the U.S. Had I been born to a nice British family in Northamptonshire I would spell it “colour,” but since I wasn’t--I don’t. I find it so incredibly irritating when American-born people decide that they need to add extra letters into their words to sound fancy.

This is what I have to say to these people:

Why don’t you go home to your mum and practise looking at your reflexion in the mirror and programme your brain to recognise that you are, in fact, an American and stop spelling cheque, trye and pyjamas wrong!