doahleigh - Holy Waste of Teabags!

One of the best things in life is to be around someone who has the same sense of humor as you. Rather than giving you confused and terrified glances, they laugh at the sarcastic remarks you make and the silly things you say. Then they come back with something equally witty! I love to laugh and I’ve often been told I “laugh too much” (god forbid). But if you can’t find humor in life, what else is there?

I always knew that the most important quality I could find in a man is laugh-ability. Someone I can laugh at and with. Someone who just got me and my jokes and my silliness.

After we met, but before we even really hung out, B and I exchanged witty banter through email for months. That eventually turned into real life witty banter, and we haven’t quit since. The sound of his laughter is one of the best sounds in my world. His sense of humor and how well it meshes with mine is one of the first things that made me fall in love with him, and it’s one of the things I know will keep us together. As long as we just keep laughing…

*

Happy Birthday honey, and thanks for all the laughter. I love you!

(*He hates this picture, but I’m risking his anger (even on his birthday) because I love it. I can hear him laughing when I look at it, and what’s happier than that?)

At Walmart yesterday the u-scan cashier told me I could write my name on a blue piece of paper and they’d hang it on the wall if only I’d hand over a dollar for some local charity. My name on a piece of paper? Really? I had a single, so thought what the hell. I figure I did my good samaritan deed for the day. The week maybe?

I stopped at Arby’s on the way home, but nobody told me that they were short-staffed or maybe had a fryer out, and that I’d have to wait in the drive-thru line for over 15 minutes. And it was one of those lines where they block you in, so even if you decide you want to bail on your curly fries, you can’t! You’re trapped suckah!

While I sat there, white-knuckling the steering wheel and comtemplating whether or not to slam into the car in front of me and end it for both of us I just want my marketfresh sandwich please!, I was suddenly aware that the radio was on when I heard “Uh oh! M-O-R-N-I-N-G-W-O-O-D” The letters raced through my head again..m o r n i n g w o o d oh my god did they just spell morning wood! Holy shit I think they did. Wait here it comes again. M-O-R-N-I-N-G-W-O-O-D. Oh my god they did, they said morning wood.

So has anyone ever heard this song? If so, what the fuck dude?

About the radio, by the way. Sometimes I listen to the worst music just because I’m too lazy to switch the station. Not lazy really, just so sick of flipping through the whole dial and finding nothing worth stopping on. B bought me that beautiful CD player for christmas, and I love it. But my arms are short and my CD book always ends up in the far corner of my backseat where I can’t reach it when I’m driving. So after the third rotation of the same CD, I sometimes try the radio. And it’s usually a mistake. See above for verification.

PS…HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMMA JEAN ROOKERS!

Update: I forgot one of my most favorite jobs! See Outside Servicer in the previous post.

Don’t you love the days when you have nothing to look forward to after work except sitting around and being lazy? Oh maybe you’ll watch that movie you rented the other night, maybe you’ll read or play endless games on your boyfriend’s Nintendo DS. Probably you’ll put your pajamas on the second you walk in the door and watch mindless tv all night.

Yes I am here to say that I, your lovely Doahleigh, am one lazy mofo. I prefer a night in to a night out almost any day. I prefer, after nine hours at work, to sit on my ass rather than be productive or social. I love looking forward to nothing! Pathetic? Yes. Do I care? No.

As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind doing nothing all day (for awhile at least). I don’t like working, the 8-5 each day, the five days a week. I hope someday my future husband will make enough money for me to stay home and do nothing. Okay, fine I’ll work part-time and maybe watch the future kids if I don’t hate them too much.

Don’t get me wrong, if I have to work, which I do, this is the job I want. I like what I do and the people I work with. And even if I didn’t have to work, I probably still would in some form. It’s the having to work part that I hate.

My first job, aside from babysitting (little brats!) was a paper route that I shared with my sister. It paid shit and gave me backaches, but it was first taste of working for a living. I’ve had a string of annoying jobs since then, and their memory always reminds how much I like the job I have now even if I hate working in general. Let’s reminisce shall we?

Ice cream slinger At 16, I got my first ‘real’ job. It was a new shoppe with very little business, so mostly I sat around writing notes to my friends on “Guest Receipt” slips and eating strawberry frozen yogurt on sugar cones.

Pharmacy Tech Saving money for college, I counted pills and stocked shelves and wore a giant white frock of a shirt for over a year. I really liked this job though because it was a personally owned pharmacy, not a corporate giant. And one of the pharmacists would always let me steal pop and candy when he worked.

Rec Facilities Patroller My first work-study job in college. I had to learn CPR and First Aid, then walk around the huge rec facility with two gyms, a weight room, etc. I had to wear an oversized ugly shirt and a massive radio on my hip. I used to find secluded areas of the building to sit and kill time. I quit after a couple weeks. Hello, me in a place of physical fitness?

Front desk lackey I actually met a lot of my college friends by sitting at the front desk of our freshmen dorm (one in particular–hi Alaina darling!). Besides socializing, I sorted mail, gave people things, and answered stupid questions. One semester I worked from 10pm to 2am, then took a quick nap and came back down to work from 5am until 8:00 class, three days a week. That semester sucked.

Loan Office lackey On top of working at the front desk for the second year (see above) and being an RA (see below) I worked in the Loan Office. Filing, sorting, copying, data-entering. This job was not exciting, but the nicest old man and woman worked with me there, and for St. Patrick’s Day I brought them green carnations, which I thought was sweet, but they thought was weird. Jerks.

Resident Assistant In charge of a whole dorm hallway full of 30 freshman girls! Lord help me. Barf in the community bathroom sinks. Barf in the hallways. 3am fire alarms. Every night. But I actually really loved my floor. It was the other RAs I had a problem with. They were nice and all, but so… let’s-all-be-friends-not-just-coworkers. And I was a)not into that, and b)so painfully shy back then that even though I really was into that, I was too insecure to believe they wanted to include me in the let’s-all-be-friends-not-just-coworkers love fest.

Golf course horticulturist And by horticulturist I mean that I planted some marigolds and watered them for a few hours every day. I did a little weeding around the clubhouse too, but mostly I drove my golf cart around trying to waste as much time as possible before giving up and going home. Again, I was incredibly insecure then and I was the only girl on the grounds crew, so I found ways to avoid human contact as much as possible.

[are you bored yet... too bad, keep reading]

Yellowstone lodge front desk worker Loved this job. Okay, I loved living in Yellowstone. The job was pretty good compared to those suckers who had to do housekeeping and cooking. Front desk was cake. But it is in Yellowstone, my friends, that I learned how to drink. Every night actually. I got all my silly drinking binges out of the way in those few months. And I did some hiking too, don’t worry.

Meijer cashier For anybody not familiar with Meijer, it’s basically like a Super Walmart. Everything you could imagine under one store. And I was the cashier in the too-big teal shirt that checked you out. This may be my worst job ever. I can’t stand doing the same thing over and over and over again. And again and again. Plus people are bitches! My only saving grace was when they put me out in the garden center during the summer where I could breathe fresh air and hide from people.

Outside Servicer At a gold course in Sheridan, WY I spent the summer loading golf carts, cleaning club heads, stacking golf ball pyramids, and washing carts. I worked in outside services, and it was seriously one of my most favorite jobs. For other reasons I won’t go into, it was a miserable summer, but the job was pretty nice. I got a great tan and made great tips. The millionaires’ asses that I had to kiss were actually quite sweet (the people, not their asses), and I usually spent a good portion of my shift lounging in or driving around in the golf carts. Oh and my favorite part of the job was clearing the driving range. I got to drive one of those vehicles that scoops up the range balls, the ones that people use for target practice a lot. It was like vacuuming a visibly dirty floor-so satisfying!

Assistant Publisher Read and edit manuscripts? Sounds great, I’m in. Haha, we lied! You’re actually in charge of phone sales. What are you selling? Oh just books on gambling, antiques and cats. And believe me, I was horrible at it. I quit after six months.

Service Learning Coordinator That’s what I do now, at a community college. For almost two years now. Actually I’m in AmeriCorps, but everything I do is like a real job except the pay. I really do like this job, and I’m a little bit sad I’m done in a few months.

So there ya have it! My resume at a glance. Sort of. Themes I noticed: oversized ugly shirts; junk food and alcohol; wasting time and avoiding people; insecurity; quitting after short periods of time. But really, I’m VERY employable. No seriously, I just have to like my job is all.

Okay first I gotta say, pretty much everyone was a big let down last night. I wasn’t truly impressed with anyone’s performance, so it makes my prediction difficult. Everyone sucked, but who sucked the worst? Or at least who will voters think sucked the worst?

Secondly, why is everyone in love with Katharine? I thought her attempt at singing some Christina was wretched, but even Simon, who usually speaks my mind for me on these matters, said it was nearly as good as the pop diva herself. WHAT? I’m pretty sure they just want her to win because she’s cute and bubbly and easily marketable. Puke on her, she’s obnoxious.

Thirdly, Chris was hot as usual, but even he was a little over the top with the hardcore rocking and the repeatedly barking What If? into the mic. I just wasn’t lovin’ the show last night. It was only a’ight for me, as my second favorite judge would say.

On with the prediction!

Lisa has a back track record with the bottom three so far, and her performance was fair at best. Also I refuse to predict Bucky again (and he was slightly endearing last night, no?). So Lisa, farewell and try again next year.

Yeah yeah, I’m in my mid-twenties and I’m reviewing this pre-teen icon. But I never read it before last weekend. I read plenty of Judy Blume to help me ease my way through puberty, but somehow I missed this well-known title. I guess I didn’t check when it was published (such a researcher I am!), so maybe it didn’t come out until I was well on my way to adolescence. Except they talk about using belts to hold maxi-pads in place…that was definitely before my time. Oh how I love you sticky adhesive!

Since I felt like I missed out on an important piece of literature by overlooking this novel, I picked it up at my local library and gave it a read. It’s the story of Margaret (did you figure that one out yet?), a pre-teen girl who just moved to a new town. Not only is she battling the awkwardness of puberty, but she’s the new girl in school too. Miraculously (or not, it is fiction after all, fiction meant to assure young girls that they are all normal and well-adjusted), she comes through it all unscathed.

It’s a happy time as Margaret deals with her first crush on an older boy, her first training bra, her first pubic hair, her first period. Oh not to mention her internal struggle with God and religion. I must say, the Are you there God’s get a little old. I found myself skipping over her little one-sided conversations with God so I could get right back to the meat of the story.

Will she or won’t she get her period before Nancy? Will Moose pay attention to her this time? What about her boobs? Have they started growing yet?

I feel satisfied having read this book, like I filled a part of childhood that had been missing. Now I’ll return it to the library and go back to my grown-up literature. Unless I have a daughter someday, then I’ll make sure she doesn’t miss out of course.

Scene: grocery store after just returning empty cans and getting a slip for seven dollars for the deposit return.

S: Well let’s buy something for dinner.
B: [holding up slip] I wish we could use this somewhere else.
S: Yeah, “Hi can we order a pizza? We’d like to pay with our deposit slip.”
[contemplative silence]
B: Wait, we could just get the cash.
S: Oh yeah…

Half-naked women on the cover of Maxim. Scantily clad women on the cover of FHM. Nearly nude women on the cover of Stuff. Inside it’s even worse: women in nothing but thongs striking sultry and suggestive poses. Big boobs, flat stomachs, tight asses, flawless skin, long flowing hair. That’s what real women look like right?

See, I have a little problem with these magazines, and it’s not necessarily what you’d expect. No, I don’t mind that my boyfriend reads them (he gets them all free, and I’ll admit, I read them too); I don’t suspect that he wishes I looked like those women; and I don’t feel threatened by air-brushed magazine models. I also don’t get jealous of these women and covet their bodies; I don’t wish I looked like them or feel inadequate compared to them. That’s not the problem either.

My problem is that I don’t have enough faith in *most* men to figure out that those women are not a realistic portrayal of real women. Some men know this, and fortunately I’ve found one for myself. But I hate that men are constantly bombarded by these images and risk misunderstanding that most women are taller, shorter, fatter, skinnier, smaller-breasted, more acne-ridden, and altogether different. They might come to expect that all women are capable of looking that way, and if we don’t, well then it’s our fault. Not nature’s.

If that’s what men are looking for when they encounter women, they may sadly miss the beauty in small perky breasts, big thighs, poochy stomachs, flat butts, pale skin, crooked smiles, and short pixie haircuts. They might expect that all women look flawless in a thong. Or that all women wear thongs!

They might overlook the exciting sex goddess in the “average-looking” woman wearing the baggy jeans and the hoodie because his sights are set on the big-breasted woman showing off her 28-inch waist in a too-tight tank and a mini-skirt. Who turns out to be a total bore.*

I want to believe that men can be smarter than this, can really appreciate the variety of bodies that women come in. I want to believe they know Maxim and FHM aren’t entirely realistic. And maybe all the worthwhile ones do. But I’m afraid that too many men are getting only one idea of what beauty is, and they’re missing out on all the other hotties out there!

So men, keep an eye out. We come in all shapes and sizes, and we’re damn pretty. Every one of us!

*No I’m not saying all “gorgeous” women are boring or that all “average-looking” women are sex goddesses. Don’t yell at me.

How to find the perfect pair of khakis (as demonstrated by Brad):

1. Purchase any khakis on sale. Make sure they have a good fit.
2. Wear khakis to wedding with girlfriend.
3. During wedding, sneak off with girlfriend. Drive down the road and have a quick “session” in the car.
4. When pulling pants back up, rip a large hole in khakis near the crotch (not on a seam).
5. Untuck shirt in attempt to cover large hole.
6. Sneak back into wedding, have girlfriend explain that you have a large hole in your pants from dancing too hard.
7. Leave wedding.
8. Stash khakis away in closet.
9. Find khakis four months later when you have another formal occassion to attend.
10. Take khakis to the department store you bought them from (without receipt).
11. Show large hole to saleswoman.
12. Lie. Say you just bought them recently and they ripped the first time you tried to pull them on.
13. When she tells you that you may make an even trade for another pair, accept offer.
14. Search store for the same brand of khakis.
15. When the saleswoman tracks you down to tell you that the store does not carry that brand of khakis, scoff at her.
16. Argue with saleswoman because you are sure you bought them there.
17. Eventually decide to buy a different pair.
18. Change in the middle of the parking lot (outside of the car) because you are late for formal occassion.
19. Drive to formal occassion.
20. While walking into formal occassion with girlfriend, try not to be embarrassed when a strange lady announces to you and everyone around that you still have a tag on your ass.
21. Rip tag off.
22. Proceed to formal occassion and look stunning all night long!

I’m not much of a gamer really. All these new-fangled video games with their stellar graphics and mind-blowing effects? Nah. I’m a simple gal when it comes to video games. I miss the original Nintendo system; I miss the Super Mario Brothers games and Dr Mario; I miss the original Tetris and MarioKart.

See, I don’t like games that are complicated and require lots of thought. And graphics mean nothing to me. Why do games always have to “improve” and change? Why always better, faster, fancier, more challenging? I don’t want better and faster! I want my Dr Mario back! I played a newer version of my beloved MarioKart with a friend awhile ago, and after one race I had had enough. There were all these new features, things blowing up, drivers switching places. It was a mess and not nearly as fun. I also played some fancy version of Tetris with B’s family a few months ago and after just one game I deemed it not fun. Which caused B to think I was just pissed that I lost, which caused me to actually get pissed, which lead to a stupid argument, which ended in some lovely making up.

But I digress.*

All this is to tell you what a hypocrite I am. Despite what my above ranting may lead you to believe, video games don’t occupy much space in my thoughts. I’d rather read a book or do a craft. Or sleep. But recently B bought a Nintendo DS, a decision I didn’t fully support. We had just spent hundreds of dollars to fly to Florida, do you really need an expensive handheld game system? Right now?? Yes he did apparently, and since then he has bought three new games: Tetris DS, MarioKart and this one that includes electronic Boggle. Guess who plays the Nintendo DS more?

Him. You thought I was going to say me didn’t you? Well actually you’re right, it is me. I try to restrain myself because he’s the one who paid money for it and I’m the one who protested against it. But do you know how good I am at Boggle now? Do you realize how many fun games there are on Tetris? Do you understand that I rock at most of them? Do you know that MarioKart even resembles the orginial enough for me to love it?

He’s going to get the new DS Slim (is that right?) when it comes out, and I’m actually thinking I might have to buy his old one from him. Seriously, what the hell is happening to me?

*I love that phrase, and I’m really excited I got to use it just now.

S: Sometimes I want to tear my hair out and use it to weave a basket, then fill the basket with baby kittens and leave it on the doorstep of a Jewish synagogue. 

B: See babe, you need to be writing this stuff down.

S: I’m sure. Hello readers, I’m a psycho and I’m babbling about it.

B: Well, you need to be true to your audience.

I was gmail chatting with B today while he was busy at work and I was so utterly bored. Put down the work and talk to me boy! Can’t you see I’m going crazy and need your unrelenting attention?

It’s just that I’m tired and have misplaced all the motivation I’m sure I had at some point in the recent past. I want somebody to engage in mindless chatter with me while I get through the next two hours in my current state of not-at-home-sleeping-ness. Otherwise what happens? I post pointless blather on my blog. Now come on, which do you prefer really?

So my mom got remarried eariler this month. I probably neglected to mention it because it was a long-time coming, they did it in Tennessee over a weekend, and this is her fourth marriage. Not that any of that negates the importance of the event, but it wasn’t something I felt I needed to declare to the world. Anyway, her reception is in a couple weeks (that was the “really important event” I referred to here) and I’m now planning to go. All they want in the way of gifts though is cash. I understand this logic: if you don’t need anything, why obtain a bunch of crap when you could just get a couple fistfuls of dolla bills y’all? But it’s mom, I just can’t bring myself to say congratulations in the form of a check.

So the sisters and I conferred and decided what’s even better than cash? A card! And our time and energy of course in planning the party. And some food we’ll each contribute. And I made a really cool card box for all the other guests to use–the ones that will be giving actual cash and checks. The ones that she did not give birth to and raise as a single mother of five. But the card! The card is the real gift don’t you think? I might even dazzle them with a homemade one. Who would want cash when there is a homemade card from your oldest daughter to be had? And really, you should see the card box I made. Way better than cash. No really.

I read this book in two short sittings when I needed a break from a longer, more cumbersome book I’m working on. I read half in bed one night and the other half after work the next day. Short, easy read. Wiesel doesn’t mince words; he tells the story, short and sweet. First this happened, then this, then this. He doesn’t embellish or exaggerate. The story is important, not the telling of the story. Of course, the story of his time in a concentration camp is shocking and painful enough, you don’t need fancy plot twists to intrigue you.

My only complaint is that I felt a little unfulfilled with the ending. I was hoping he would have somehow found out what happened to his mother and sisters at Auschwitz or told me more about life after his evacuation. But Night is not about life after, it’s about life in a Nazi death camp.

Short, simple, intense and fearsome. I even recommended it to my boyfriend who isn’t exactly a literature buff!

Since the introduction of the Mach 3 razor a few years ago, I’ve continually made the joke that it won’t be long before men will be shaving their faces with razors that have 25 blades. When making this joke, I usually use a funny visual to demonstrate the size of the razor–one finger at my cheekbone, one at my jaw. Anyway, by now you’ve all seen those over-the-top commercials for the Fusion razor with five blades. That’s five people, not all that much less (in quantity or absurdity) than 25 if you think about it.

Apparently I’m not the only person that’s noticed this rapid and ridiculous increase in blades. Brad pointed out to me that a certain superstar blogger shared this blade-based article via some other guy I don’t know. I just felt like I needed a piece of the action since this is one of my few grab bag jokes.

Also, since I’m chattering away, let me take a moment to point out a couple new things. B added that cool flickr photo sharing gizmo over there in the right sidebar so you can check out our most recently uploaded photos. The Big Flickr Switch we’ve undertaken has gone well. We’ve been uploading and sorting and tagging like mad lately, and we’re still not done. The only downside is that all the pictures I’ve posted on here since January are now effed up, so I’ll be going back to remedy that soon.

Now here’s where you need to pay attention if you haven’t been up to this point:

Please also notice in the right sidebar under the “Check me out” categories, I’ve added my Amazon wishlist. Now I’m not asking for handouts, but if you feel so inclined, who doesn’t love a present now and then right? So far I’ve only added a few things I’d love to own, but check frequently and you’re sure to find something you couldn’t possibly let me live without.

I hate for this to become a blog about Bucky Covington, but he’s gotta be my pick this week too. I wanted to say Lisa Taylor, but I think her fans are going to do their darnedest to save her from the bottom three this week. Bucky’s was a less than stellar performance, and even though he seems like a nice guy, let’s hope this time I’m right (if only because I don’t want to have to predict him again next week and keep pasting his mug all over my website!).

At least his hair was back to normal!

Hey doahleigh visitors, this is Brad saying hi and posting on the ‘ol Blackerry. I thought that maybe Shan would want to post to here sometime when we’re not around a computer, so I’m testing this out. Ok, back to Shan now.