No doubt this is a clever title

I love Gwen Stefani. I think she's very creative (understatement and paging Captain Obvious). One thing though, I loathe the name of her clothing/accessories line L.A.M.B. This is an acronym for 4 of her favorite words: love, angel, music and baby. It's just so twee, so excruciatingly precious; it makes me want to throw up cotton candy into my glittered pink toilet that plays lullabies when you flush it. In every other aspect I think she's awesome. I don't even mind that she named her son Kingston. I kind of like it, and I have issues with names, big issues. So, I propose a switch-up. She should call her brand B.L.A.M or B.A.L.M, except B.A.L.M. includes the phrase "baby angel" which stirs up all that cotton candy in the pits of my stomach. 

If I had a brand that was named an acronym with 4 of my favorite words it would be called S.H.I.T.: shenanigans, hullabaloo, itsy and totalitarianism. I would sell guns, or sparkly flip-flops, not sure. It would be good until my "fans" demanded a switch-up and I would have to go by H.I.T.S and sell baseballs and single tapes from the '90's, or T.I.S.H, but then I would go out of business. Remember what I said about names?

So my advice to Gwen is to stay away from the beautiful sparkly unicorns and sweet baby sheep. It's not a good place to go. 

Pizza and the suburbs

Am I the only woman in America that doesn't want to see the Sex and the City movie? Going with a group of friends sounds like fun but I look forward to the friends and not so much the movie. I feel like I'm supposed to be excited, like it's my duty to drool over this movie and count the minutes until its release. The truth is, I've never been a fan of Sex and the City. I find it a TV version of the magazines that tell me, page by page, that I'm a fat, short, unmotivated, bland, pimpled troll who needs prettier toe nail polish and a boyfriend with a six pack who wants to put things in my butt. I'm not down for a night on the town in a pink tutu, killer blister-creating stilettos and 8 rounds of pomegranate pineapple sake cucumber cosmotinis. This will surprise nobody because you all know that's not my thing. Let's get together and order a pizza, drink some wine or beer and catch up. After you see the movie call me and tell me which one of them dies, I am kind of curious about that.

"Made in China" needs to matter

I work in the footwear industry and most of our shoes are made in China. We don’t currently have a factory base in Chengdu, where the earthquake struck on May 12th but a quick Google search revealed there are about 2000 shoe factories in that area, along with factories and plants that crank out your cars, apparel, furniture, house wares and even your food. I know there is some level of apathy regarding the economic juggernaut that China has become. We tend to view these industries with complacent disregard because it’s easier for us to just go buy that cheap shirt/dresser/rug/drill/cereal/flip-flop/car and not have to think of its origins. The truth is there is a very human side to these industries. I work with a lot of Chinese people, we communicate via email every day and occasionally over the phone. They work hard, really hard. I’m not going into much depth to explain these people’s work habits to you. What you need to understand is how much they impact your lives and how much they need your help right now.

I won’t post pictures of the destruction, of the collapsed school buildings or the wailing mothers grieving next to their children’s bodies. What I am going to do is ask you to think about the items that are surrounding you right now. Your shoes were made in China; I’m pretty sure about that. Some of your clothes were made there as well. Most of the things on your desk are from China. The chair you’re sitting in: made in China. Your keyboard? Chinese in origin. Your phone, pen, stapler, water bottle, scissors, tape dispenser, purse, mouse pad, bulletin board, filing cabinet, carpet, etc…all made in China.

So let’s get to the point here. Please donate money to help the people who supply you with your “stuff” every day. You can donate here. You can also search online for any organization that can help the victims of the earthquake and make a donation. I’m not partial to one charity over another; I just think these people work very hard to supply us with the things on which we depend. The least we can do is help them in a time of need.

26 reasons I'm a nerd

I love letters. I know it sounds weird but I’m fascinated by each varied member of the wonderful English alphabet. I sound like an overly enthusiastic teacher spewing cockamamie phrases like “math is fun” and other absurdities but I can’t help it. Maybe I should’ve been a teacher. Nonsense, I despise children (except yours, your child is wonderful). Anyway, to me, each letter has a personality and interacts with the other letters. For instance, T belongs in front of S but somehow got shafted and now has to be after S and S is always boasting and pushing T around. T is male, and S is female. So S is really full of herself and T is too nice to say anything and lets S treat him poorly. It’s tragic really, the constant struggle between the two.
A, B, C and D are a Greek system of sorts and band together against the other letters. In the alphabet world these 4 are the “popular crowd” and make fun of the less socially accepted letters like the weirdo Q and O the fat guy. M and W are dating. It’s cute. Nobody ever expected these two to hook up, they’re total opposites.
Y is elusive, a bit of a recluse. X sits in the back of class and doesn’t raise his hand very much.
Before you label me a complete geek think of your own little oddities. Maybe you relate more to numbers, maybe you can’t go up a set of stairs without counting them, perhaps you pretend you host a cooking show while you prepare dinner or maybe you talk to yourself in the car or in the shower. I think we all have ways to occupy our minds during the downtime. What’s something you do that I might think is weird?

Good news of the day

I just got an email that our wedding invitation made it into a design book, very cool!
Whitney and Jonathan Speir at Brown Sugar Design did such a great job reading my mind. They were also unflinchingly patient with my indecisiveness as well as my mother. The invitations, place cards and table numbers were one of my favorite things about the wedding. Some other great things were the tequila bar, my shoes and marrying Dan, of course.
Click here to see some more details about the book and the many beautiful creations from Brown Sugar Design.

The "Battle" of Puebla

I’ll tell you the truth about this little “holiday” you’re all celebrating. In 1862 the French came to a small town called Puebla in central Mexico ready to fight. The textbooks will tell you the Mexicans cleaned up, kicked butt, regulated, whooped ass and other such victorious sayings. This was especially significant to the Mexicans because they were the underdogs, far outnumbered by those wily Frenchmen. In reality it was just a battle of the moustaches. Who had the best facial hair? The French with their up-curled, escargot stained wisps or the Mexicans with their straight wiry mops? Obviously you are drinking Corona and Tequila today because the Mexicans’ moustaches reigned supreme. The French took one look at the rag-tag group of Mexicans ready to strike; they sized up the glorious array of menacing mouth brows and ran like hell yelling “sacrebleu” and some other stuff in French.
It’s not common for somebody to tell you what really happened that day. Tecate, Corona and every Mexican restaurant in town are hoping you and your wallet will show up and celebrate the outcome of a viciously fought battle. I’m sorry to disappoint you but I hope you enjoy your tacos tonight knowing the truth. You’re welcome

I LOVE these

If you love sweet and salty you'll love these sea salt caramels from Fran's. I also just saw that Hagen Dazs has cloned the idea into an ice cream. Holy cellulite am I in for a treat or what?!

This side up

We're moving next weekend. My sister says when you die and go to hell you just move from one place to another. I totally buy it. I think there's probably a time in hell when you're in Hallmark trying to pick a card but you have to pee really really bad. Wait, is that just my nightmare? Oh, never mind.


Anyhoo, I made this sign to tape onto the boxes containing breakables:

What do you think? Effective, no? I think it gets the point across. Plus I won't have to write on the box with a Sharpie. There's something about a fine point Sharpie that just doesn't work on a big cardboard box and I'm not about to go buy a big fat smelly marker just for one move. Do you think I've thought about this too much? I wonder if I can just print my sign onto sticker paper. But wait, what's cheaper, a big marker or a package of sticker paper? Oh no, I've thought myself into a dilemma.

If you can't stand the heat, get out of my blog

I told you I was going to post about how I bend it like Bikram in hot yoga. I desperately want to claim I thought of the phrase bend it like Bikram, but I didn't. I read it on the internets somewhere. Anyway, it would be a lie because I don't quite bend it. I sort of stretch and reach it and suffer through it and often just give up and lay down during it. What I love about hot yoga is that even when you've exhausted yourself and have to lay down during class you're still burning tons of calories. Where else can you work out like that? I challenge you to think of a place where you simply lie down on your back and get a work out. Actually, no, don't tell me. I don't need to know about your naughty business. The point is hot yoga, although torturous and miserable, is a fantastic way to work out. It's the best detox too. However, there are a few things it's not good for, such as people with fantastic sense of smell (me), people who don't want to hear other people fart (me), people who are grossed out easily - especially when it comes to other people's sweat and emissions (me) and people who generally prefer laying in a vegetative state watching reruns of The Hills to exercise (again, me). So I'll be honest, these things keep me from going sometimes. I get scared I'm going to have to work out next to Stinky McFartsalot, Missy Idon'twashmymat or Bikeshorts McGee. I'm not a fan of these people. What I am a fan of though is feeling great and hot yoga really makes you feel good (afterward). So if you've never done it, give it a try. If you have, leave me a comment and tell me some things you love and some things you hate about it. I'll bet we're not so different me and you.

Stass McGrass

Stacie told me the other day she reads my blog daily and thoroughly enjoys it. I was really happy to hear that. I didn't really expect people to tune in very often, let alone daily. Suffice to say Stacie is my biggest fan. As a thank you to my loyal friend I'm going to tell you a few things I love about her. If you leave comments and read my blog a lot maybe I'll post something nice about you too.

1. Stacie's nickname is Stass. Some people call her Stace but I reject this. Everybody named Stacie is called Stace at some point in their lives, right? How many Stacie's do you know that go by Stass? That's right, one. And this is one of the reasons I love her, a kick ass nickname.

2. When Stass was a kid she had a pet squirrel that scratched her back while she fed him peanuts over her shoulder. The best part, the squirrel's name was Snidely Whiplash. I don't even need to elaborate here.

3. Somebody with a pet squirrel named Snidely Whiplash could only be the offspring of a race car driver and a sky diver. Coolness abounds.

4. Stacie is the only person that would laugh if I ask her "what handouts?". See? If you're not Stacie, you're not laughing.

5. Our junior year of high school Stacie convinced me to go up to some girl and tell her I was going to kick her ass. This was completely asinine of course because I could not (and cannot) kick anybody's ass seeing as how I am 4'11'' and can't even open a bottle of Gatorade. Regardless, with the confidence of Stacie having my back I walked up to this girl and told her I was going to "regulate" and some other silly things. A few years later Stacie and I ran into this girl at Time Out and had a good laugh.

I know you all have your own crazy ass stories about Stacie. Feel free to comment.

Wii Fitness? yes please

Let me preface this post by telling you how good I am at Wii bowling. My best is a 243, pretty good, right? I rarely bowl under 200 and my Mii looks hella good. I always* beat Dan by bringing what I like to call "the fury". Beware "the fury" if you ever bowl against me on Wii; real bowling, not so much. I bowl better than Obama though, and probably Hilary too. Anyway, now you know my secret power and how much I enjoy the Wii. So Wii is coming out with a new game/system thing called Wii Fitness. The article I read online today says it facilitates such activities as yoga and push ups. That's a random ass combination but I'll go with it, must be a zany Japanese thing. They are always coming up with all sorts of wacky stuff like Pokemon and sushi. So I am somewhat interested in obtaining this Wii Fitness and trying it out for myself. I hope it contains more features than yoga and push ups though, maybe a little kickboxing or Pilates would be good. I guess wii'll see (queue after-joke drum sequence). Dan if you're reading this don't forget my birthday is July 1st. love you.
*always=usually

Home, sweet, whatever...

Dan and I have been looking for a house the past few months. We have been really adamant that we want a flat fenced yard, 2 car garage and a good location (preferably Kirkland). So naturally we bought a condo in Kenmore. There's this little obstacle we've been facing called money. The obstacle is that we don't have much and people selling their houses want a lot. So we found a nice condo complex that has been "remodeled" or "converted" or whatever you want to call it, and put in an offer. It's been a few weeks and we've now officially bargained our meager, yet surprisingly valuable souls to the devil, started dealing drugs on holidays and weekends and signed a contract to name our first born Wells Fargo Remax Ross; but the condo is ours. Hooray. Perhaps in a few years we can afford furniture. Until then, little Wells Fargo will have to sleep in the bathtub.

Tag, I'm it

Shelby my friend who can't wink has tagged me and apparently I'm "it". So as "it" I am supposed to follow these simple rules:

1) you link back to the person who tagged you.

Ok, here is the link to Shelby's blog that I heart very much.

2) post these rules on your blog.

Done

3) share six unimportant things about yourself.

See below

4) tag six random people at the end of your entry.

Oh no, I don't know 6 people who blog, ok, I'll see what I can do.

5) let the tagged people know by leaving a comment on their blogs

Working on it....

Here are my six random facts:

1.) One of my dreams is to see Radiohead live. They are coming to town on August 20th and I am so bummed it's a Wednesday night. Also, I don't have any friends that heart Radiohead as much as I do. I'm debating going by myself big nerd style.

2.) I can't watch people kiss or brush their teeth on TV. It grosses me out big time.

3.) I have a coworker whose hair is the exact same shape as Darth Vader's helmet. It used to be funny but now it just makes me mad. She is the coworker addressed in my first entry. I despise her helmet hair and her son Luke.

4.) I really need a tan.

5.) Dan has been trying to get me to ski and play golf for a couple of years now. I have tried but I really suck at both.

6.) I bend it like Bikram in hot yoga. I'll probably post about it soon.

I am searching for someone to tag, I'll get back to you...

Project Fear Moment of Survivor Spaces

I have this idea for a new reality show. You get all the reality show hosts together and pit them against each other in challenges. So you would have Allison Sweeney the host of The Biggest Loser, Hiede Klum host of Project Runway, Paige Davis the wacky shaggy haired monster in my recurring nightmare and host of Trading Spaces, Jeff Probst graduate of Bellevue High and host of Survivor, Joe Rogan of Fear Factor, Mark Whalberg from such gems as The Bachelor and probably the worst reality show ever - Moment of Truth and the list goes on and on.
Obviously Joe Rogan would win every event except the smarmy yet charming grimace/smile combo throw down which would clearly go to Jeff Probst. The speed painting challenge may go to Paige Davis but I'll bet Rogan is a whiz with a paint roller. The only thing Allison Sweeney would win is the how to pretend you're sad that you just sent a fat person home contest. The participants would be voted off by their fellow contestants in a grandiose tribal torch bearing, flower giving, spider eating ceremony and the person who gets kicked off is told the most jarring send-off in reality show history: You are out and you are not the biggest loser but you are the weakest link goodbye and the tribe has spoken and said you're a liar and by the way you're fired see you later decorator p.s. you can't have this rose.
What do you think? You would watch it, right?

picture pages, picture pages, time to do your picture pages...

I have been reading your blogs lately and I've noticed you all have lots of great pictures. I have very few pictures and that's kind of bumming me out. So I've decided to post some pictures and break up the monotony of those damn boring ass words I love to post so much. Here you go:

This is my dog Lola. For awhile we thought she might be a Schnoodle (half Schnauzer - half Poodle) but now we're pretty sure she's pure Schnauzer. A few weeks ago they switched her at the groomers and gave Dan back the wrong dog. He actually left with Luna, the identical Mini Schnauzer. It was a mess. Lola loves to chew dirty socks. Her new favorite hobby is stealing the socks off my niece Carolina's feet. This is Carolina:

I am in love with her. Notice that she is in my mother's arms. My mom has not put her down since the minute she was born. For real, she has been holding her for 3 months and 2 days. We are expecting to surgically separate them on Carolina's 18th birthday. Carolina throws up a lot. I am told that most babies throw up a lot but I'm not inclined to believe it. If I did I would never have children of my own. So let's pretend Carolina is some kind of vomiting freak child and most kids don't actually reveal the contents of their stomachs until they are 14 and drink an entire Strawberry Fields Boones and three Busch Ices and throw up all over their friend's parent's carpet in which case I don't have to deal with it. Humor me.

I don't have a clever transition into the next picture so here it is:

This is our bungalow in Bora Bora. We went there for our honeymoon and it was freakin amazing. If you ever get the chance I would highly recommend going there. Be aware that a drink costs $25 at any hotel. Don't fret, you can go to the grocery store and get Tahiti Drink, possibly the best liquid concoction ever devised by man. It's fruit punch and alcohol mixed in a handy carton. You must know the fruit punch is fresh juice from Bora Bora's vast array of tropical fruits. The alcohol, um, I'm not so sure what exactly the alcohol is, but trust me, it is delicious. Flights leave from LA daily, don't try to finagle any upgrades because you're on your honeymoon. So is everybody else.

That concludes my picture post. I hope you enjoyed the break between the bothersome text.

oh the shame

I've been hesitant to post anything because I don't want to have to tell you about my weekend.

I did a very bad thing. It was so innocent though, it crept up on me. I didn't even notice it sneaking up, getting cozy, brushing back my hair, whispering in my ear, "Lit, you know you want to, come on, don't deny it". So before I could rationalize, think, resist - before I could do anything it was upon me. Cheese. There, now you know. I'm so ashamed. I totally went on a cheese bender this weekend.

It started on Friday at my co-worker's 40th birthday/conference room pizza party. My job was to bring the drinks. I had a brilliant plan to buy some 2 liters of pop in the morning before work. At the same time I would pick up something dairy-free for lunch. After singing Happy Birthday I would leave to "run an errand" but really go back to my desk and be good and eat my dairy free lunch and maybe blog about how my co-worker is really 42 but I'm just playing along. Things went horribly wrong at the grocery store. The 2 liters were beyond my reach on the top shelf.  It was 10 to 7 in the morning so there really wasn't anybody in the aisle to help me. I considered just buying 12 packs of cans but I wouldn't be able to carry them. So I went out to the bakery section and asked this guy if he would help me. It really wasn't a big deal, he was totally nice and came and got me 2 liters of Coke, 2 liters of Diet Coke, 2 liters of Dr. Pepper and 2 liters of Sprite. I put them in my canvas tote (because I heart Mother Nature and don't insult her by using plastic bags) and paid for my bevy of sodas and went to work. In the commotion of practically being a little person and getting sidetracked by my freakishly short legs I totally forgot to buy a healthy lunch.

Obviously my genius plan to avoid the pizza failed. I was so hungry at noon that I sang Happy Birthday and then proceeded to gorge myself on 2 slices of pizza and 1 slice of cake. I'm only human. So the dairy-free plan was ruined and the rest of my weekend consisted of consuming mass amounts of cheesy goodness. I even ordered mozzarella sticks at Lucky 7 on Saturday night. You know what, they were delicious, and I don't regret eating them. 

I have yet to re-kick the dairy habit and get on the wagon, so to speak. I just ate a Girl Scout cookie, and it was damn good. Thin Mint, in case you're wondering. I've decided that a life without dairy is not worth living. How can you possibly avoid cheese? It's nonsense. I don't know what I was thinking. Moderation, that's the key.  Not so much mozzarella sticks though. That was probably overdoing it.

welcome back my friend

I'm not one to let the weather affect my feelings. When you live in Seattle you can't really call in sick and spend the day in bed watching movies when it rains. If you did, you'd lose your job and your muscles would atrophy. You'd be an unemployed vegetable who's really good at movie trivia. I've never claimed to have SAD and I don't go tanning to enhance my vitamin D absorption. I don't jet off to Arizona for spring training or spend a few weeks in Palm Springs, and that's usually fine. This year though, this year has been kind of rough in the weather department. There were those few mandatory teaser sunny days in February. Usually it's cold for awhile after that and then it gradually turns to spring. But when it was supposed to be gradually turning we got, surprise...snow.

So even though I'm all tough and weather resistant I started to get a little mad. I mean, come on, snow?! Are you fucking kidding me? For months now I've been cold. I mean all the time, I'm cold when I wake up, I'm cold all day in my shitty cubicle, I'm cold in my apartment and then I'm cold when I get into bed again. There are a few minutes when I'm not cold and those are the glorious few minutes I spend in the shower. So I suffer through all those crappy short ass grey misty freezing days and then everybody makes a big deal out of the first day of spring and we all get excited and go buy shorts and then we wake up and it's fucking snowing outside. For real? In my frustration I have abandoned all use of commas - forgive me.

So today, today was good. I went outside at lunch and it was sunny, and kind of warm. I'll take that as a good sign that maybe someday soon I will not spend the entire day in icy misery. I say welcome back to the sun, stay awhile, we need you.

this is a post about puke

If you are as grossed out by vomit as I am by loud gum chewing I advise you to quit reading. I’m going to tell you about my niece Carolina ejecting an entire meal of formula onto my sweatshirt on Saturday. This stuff she “eats” smells so foul in its pre-ingested state that I don’t even want to have to describe what it smells like the second time around. I’m also going to tell you about Dan’s stomach flu incident that landed us in the ER yesterday. Let’s just say the bath mat and the shower curtain are currently soaking in the washing machine. There was a throw-up chucking alien hiding in Dan's stomach yesterday. Every time Dan moved the little fucker would fire it up.

I’m grossing myself out so I’m going to wrap this one up. Just a friendly warning: the ER doc, Dr. McSlowasfuck, says there is a stomach virus going around. Wash your hands.

put the gum down and no one gets hurt

Dear Cubicle Neighbor,

What new information can I tell you about cubicles that hasn't already been said? Cubicles are small, yes, obviously. Cubicles are drab, boring, lifeless caves of despair; this much we know. Our cubicles rival any teeny working spaces I've ever seen, on TV or otherwise, with their 12 foot gray padded walls and "privacy doors" that make the "entrance" a mere crack through which we squeeze. However, as awful as most cubicles may be, there is one thing most offices don't have that I get the displeasure of experiencing every day. Cubicle Neighbor, I speak of your gum chewing.

Every time I hear you open your desk drawer I get a shiver if disgust from head to toe, top to bottom, my body retracts in the certain misery that will soon greet me. I hear you unwrapping your gum and I get the urge to bolt, to "shut this bitch down" as my good friend Kristi often says. As soon as the gum enters your mouth I cringe and cover my ears. For the next 45 minutes I am forced to suffer through your awful, smacking, wet, chewing gum noises. Forgive the cliche; your gum is nails and your teeth, well, they're the chalkboard Cubicle Neighbor.

I really, really wish you could just shut your damn trap and chew your gum as if you were a normal person. I really wish my back didn't face the "entrance" of my cubicle so I could wear headphones and not have to worry about people sneaking up on me and catching me using the Internet while I'm supposed to be working. I really wish there was a gum ban in our office, except for me, because I like chewing gum after lunch.

Please, please Cubicle Neighbor, be mindful of the exasperating noises that escape your mouth. We are not 2, but 6 people sharing a very small space. What used to be a storage closet is now our work area; I hope you can appreciate how each little smacking noise affects us all.

Thank you for your time in considering my feelings. I hope you will take my words to heart and discontinue all use of gum.

Sincerely,
Me

PS - Please cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze, please stop clearing your throat every 2 minutes and the x in faux suede is silent. thanks.

time to pray

My friends Amy and Taylor are engaged and will be married in August. As if this wasn't stressful enough, Taylor has this majorly HUGE and IMPORTANT test he's taking tomorrow and Saturday. I think the test is to become a certified financial planner (correct me if I'm wrong Aimes). The testing process was a series of small tests followed by one BIG one that will take up most of the day tomorrow and all damn day on Saturday. From what I hear Taylor has been studying his skinny ass off and Amy has been praying like she's never prayed before.
I really love these two; they are a blast to have around and they are two of the hardest working people that I know. They know how to work their assess off and, more importantly, they know how to party their asses right back on.
So if you read this today please say a prayer for Taylor. I personally am wishing him strength, mental focus, lots of patience with himself the next two days and a little bit of luck (which can't hurt) I am also sending lots of positive energy his way. Good luck Taylor, we know you will do great! I can't wait to celebrate in May when you get the results.