Cleaning Out The IN Box

Uggh...

My desk at work is a clutter of crap! I can't believe I have let it get like this because it is so out of character for me. And I can't even stand it for one more minute. I guess it means I have been busy with other things, but a cluttered desk must mean a cluttered mind and my mind is clear.

Don't you hate it when things pile up on your desk? I have been focusing on the immediate things like everyday stuff that's necessary and INVENTORY! My focus has been to complete inventory before the big events of the weekend, which I almost did-but in the interim everything else landed squarely in a pile on my desk. Now I am back to work and it is looming over my head like a wrecking ball. I can't stand looking at it and I feel like I can't focus on anything else until I clean up that mess. I'm going to dig right in and destroy the clutter like nobody's business. I might even surprise myself.

Because my mind is clear, even if my desk is not.

p.s. This photo is not my desk..if it was-you might find me crumpled up in the fetal position somewhere near there.

Food Is My Poison

I'm so hot...
Am I sweating? Or is it just that I feel clammy? Either way, I need some water. I'm really thirsty.

Is the room spinning? Sh*t!, is it hot in here or what? I gotta get me a drink of water. But where?
Here in my head there is no relief. I can see the faucet, but I can't get to it. It's too far away. It seems like I'll never get there. How did this happen? My entire world is dry.

Oooh, my head is pounding, so I'll have to pretend I'm drinking water. I see the faucet and I try to turn it on with my mind. Ice cubes...I need it to be cold because my mind is hot. Yes, I can imagine the first refreshing gulps of the clear, crisp water quenching the thirst that surrounds me. There, that's better..

But not really. I'm still hot and my throat is dry. And whoa-I feel, like I'm sailing on a boat, and I don't like it very much. I'm weak and the boat is strong. I might hurl. No, I'm definitely going to hurl, but I can't move. Suddenly my legs are concrete and I'm thinking this can't be good. No this isn't good at all...somebody stop this ride, cuz I gotta get off the boat...and wow! it's hot in here! Did I already say that?

I think my brain is frying up in my skull. Can I just have a little water. Oooh no, the thought of that makes me more nauseous. I'm awake but I can't move. I'm dead weight, but I can feel the small beads of sweat running down the back of my neck. This isn't good. I don't feel good, at all and I know what's next. I gotta get up and get rid of it because it's wreaking havoc with me. Ok, ready? I'm going to do it.

I don't feel any better.

Even the water I just sipped didn't help. In fact, It made me feel worse. I think it's not happy to be joining us today. I think it's leaving too. It's only a matter of time. What the hell did I eat? How did this happen to me? I promise I'll be good if you take away this feeling. I'll do whatever you want, just make me feel normal again. I will feel normal again? Won't I?

I'm so thirsty. and Damn! It's really hot in here.

Miami Heat Wave...

Dang if it isn't hotter than Haiti out here in Beantown with more hot. hot. hot weather predicted to take us through the weekend. It's already 90 degrees this morning and it's not even noon yet, but I'm not complaining. It's just with these extreme climate changes, our temps have gone from 60 to 90 in a flash!

It feels like California in July around here, so check out below how hot that really is.
Happy weekend Bloggers! And try to keep cool.


YOU KNOW YOU ARE IN California, USA
IN JULY WHEN...

~ The birds have to use potholders to
pull worms out of the ground.

~ The trees are whistling for the dogs.

~ The best parking place is determined
by shade instead of distance.

~ Hot water now comes out of both taps.

~ You can make sun tea instantly.

~ You learn that a seat belt buckle makes
a pretty good branding iron

~ The temperature drops below 95 and
you feel a little chilly.

~ You discover that in July it only takes
2 fingers to steer your car.

~ You discover you can get sunburned
through your car window.

~ You actually burn your hand opening
the car door.

~ You break into a sweat the instant
you step outside at 7:30 a.m.

~ Your biggest bicycle wreck fear is,
"What if I get knocked out and
end up lying on the pavement and
cook to death?"

~ You realize that asphalt has a liquid
state.

~ The potatoes cook underground, so all
you have to do is pull one out and
add butter, salt and pepper.

~ Farmers are feeding their chickens crushed
ice to keep them from laying boiled eggs.

~ The cows are giving evaporated milk.

Hot Or Not

So yes, I saw these on TV.

Pajama jeans? I decided to inquire further. At first glance these look to be faux designer jeans and nothing that would peak my interest but I have to admit I was curious. Made from a blend of cotton and denim, these faux jeans claim to be so comfortable that you can sleep in them. (I might have slept in my jeans a time or two, but it wasn't because I thought my jeans were "super comfortable")

With "butt lifting" European stitching and a mock zip front, the brass rivets and the designer look of these jeans could fool even the best fashion expert. Or could it?

I decided to ask a trusted group of friends their opinion:

"those are gross," one exclaimed.

"Sooo not!" said another.

But being a journalist at heart, I had to argue the two sides.

For the NOT:

• They look fake and cheap. (are they? I have yet to hold said garment in my hands so these are just observations based on what I saw on TV)


• They have their own infomercial. Need I say more?


• Would you DIE if someone on the street stopped you and said, "Oh my God, aren't those the pajama jeans??"

For the HOT:

• If you have a killer figure and your ass looks good, does it really matter what the jeans are made of?


• Comfort. Does comfort trump fashion? (not in my mind, ever)


• Price. At $39.99, is this a great way to steal a fashion trend? Some designer jeans run up to $280.00. If she is rockin' jeans at $39.99, who looks the fool then?

In the end, I can't decide.

Can you believe it? Me, who has all kinds of opinions when it comes to fashion. I couldn't help but see both sides of the designer jeans debate. I guess if you look good in them, it doesn't really matter what they are and if Angelina Jolie were photographed wearing them, they might become the next greatest fashion trend. Then lots of naysayers would be caught with egg on their face.

Would I ever wear them?

Hell no, but I never said I wasn't a fool.

Who Lobbied For Murphy To Pass His Law?

Get a load of this one...

So yesterday was day three and counting of no power. My mom and I decide to get a hotel room so the children could have a hot shower before the first day of school today. A hot shower for myself wouldn't have been a bad idea because the shower I took yesterday was so COLD that it gave me a headache. Anyway, My Guy and My Dad stay at home (because we have 3 dogs) and we pack up everything, have dinner and settle in to the hotel room with the TV on. I have never been so happy to watch a re-run of NCIS, I tell ya.

I turn out the lights and I'm just about to fall asleep in my air conditioned room, when My Guy texts me. I know what it's gonna say, because he went to bed almost an hour earlier. "The power is on", the text says. I chuckle to myself and think if we hadn't got the hotel room, we wouldn't have got the power back. That's just how that Murphy's Law thing works, doesn't it? I call him and he tells me that the power surge woke him up and that it took him a good 20 minutes to shut everything off because every single light in the house was on. Great. No really, I'm so happy, but I tell him we are staying put and we will enjoy the hotel for the night. Why not? We drift off to sleep. Or so I think.

Frack is tossing and turning and Frick is sniffling. Loud.
12:30 AM, Frack wakes me to tell me he can't sleep. Being the caring and understanding mother that I am, I respond with,

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Nothing," he says. Poor Kid.

It's now about 2:00 AM I think and I see Frick's waif-y little silhouette sitting in the arm chair next to my bed. After blinking so hard that I practically break my cornea, I ask her what the HELL she is doing?

"Nina (her grandmother) is snoring and I can't sleep," she responds.

I already know this because the snoring was keeping my slumber at bay also.

"Go back to bed," I say, and she does.

Miraculously we make it through the rest of the night without much disturbance. Save for the snoring....and the alarm goes off at 5:30 AM. We snooze it a few times and Frack rises for his shower.

"Mom, there's no hot water."
Frack is now standing in front of me with a towel wrapped around his waist. If this is a joke, it's a bad one and I look at him with that WTF face you make when you are half asleep at 5:30 in the morning.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes mom. There's a snow flake on one side of the shower knob and a sun on the other side and the water is cold on the sun side," he says.

Oh yes, I get out of bed and guess what? He had the knob on the wrong season. Problem solved. Hot water flows. Except now I'm WIDE AWAKE.

Frick gets up and starts banging on the door. "Frack, I gotta pee. Let me in!!!" "
"No way, I'm naked," he says.

About 20 more minutes of them fighting over this and that and sure enough, they wake my mom. She starts screaming at them to grow up and stop it, and I'm so grateful when they leave at 6:30 AM. My mom and I start to relax again and we are talking about where we are going to have breakfast when the hotel FIRE ALARM goes off, loud and screeching.

Over the loud beeping we hear, "Attention guests. We have been notified of an emergency. Please exit the building immediately."

Are you kidding me? It's 6:40 AM and we gotta leave the hotel. I look at my mother and tell her to get up and get dressed cuz we are getting the HELL OUTTA HERE and I start throwing everything into a suitcase. Lord, I'm not even sure I got everything from the room, but I didn't care. I think I left black skid marks as I was speeding past the multiple fire trucks and hotel guests outside the building, but I didn't look back.

All I know is that I took an hour long shower this morning and turned on almost every electrical device I could find.

And I'm grateful that I could, dont' get me wrong.

Falling Down The Rabbit Hole

These days this is what I look like leaving the house..
I just can't seem to get anywhere on time. I feel much like Mr. Rabbit here.

"So much to do, so little time. I'm late, I'm late, I'm late. "

I hate people who are late and I fear I am slowly becoming one of them. The later's, as I like to call them, generally fall into three categories:



1. Tardy's: This is my category and lately I am the poster child for this group. Tardy's show up chronically 5 to 8 minutes late for EVERYTHING. It's not really a big issue but it's just annoying enough to be labled with the reputation.



2. Later's: These people are always 30 to 50 minutes late. They are late for work, they are late for meetings, pickups, dinner's and just about everything else. I find that these people have a very unrealistic concept of time and they are chronically over committed. AND they will always come up with a doozy of a story about the 30,000,000 million pound Iguana that was blocking the driveway so they couldn't get out.

3. Whatever's: This group is very rare and repersents only about 1% of people who are late. These people are an hour to an hour and a half late. And they don't care. They waltz into a scheduled time over an hour late and act like nothing is wrong. This is the kind of person you have to lie to, and tell them the dinner reservation is at 6:30 when it's really at 7:30, and even then they show up late. I actually do have a friend that falls into this category. It's quite frustrating and I have curbed our social meetings because she just can't be trusted to show up on time.

All I can say is that I am working on it. I feel like being late suggests some sort of loss of control on the Later's part. That they can't quite get things together, and it puts them at a disadvantage right away. Being prompt shows maturity, capability, and professionalism. Being late simply sucks.

Say no to late.

I gotta go because now, this post is being posted late.

Little Miss Smarty Pants

So I read somewhere, that children can increase their IQ by one point if they watch Good Morning America. Of course, when I Googled it this morning I couldn't find any evidence of this fact, but I swear I read it and that's not really the point here this morning, anyway...

If this is to be true, I wondered what this says about me and my Intelligence Quotient?

I was raised on Gilligan's Island and by Mike and Carol Brady. If mom says don't play ball in the house, you don't play ball in the house. We were the TV generation, the first to really experience the benefits of syndication. Growing up in the early seventies, we were still innocent enough to experience part of the culture of the sixties as a small child. Wholesome shows like Gilligan's Island and The Brady Bunch and The Monkees were syndication smash hits, airing during our prime TV viewing time. The hours from after school to the dinner hour.

So how did these shows, including some of my very best friends, Looney Tunes Cartoons, aid in developing my IQ?

Let's take the Brady's shall we? From Mike and Carol I learned about the taboo(at the time) inner workings of blended families, and how a mother and a father can love and parent a child not of their own until the lines between them are gone. Sibling rivalry? I learned that we all don't have to play nice all the time and that sometimes even a black wig wont hide your true identity. Consequences. Yes, we watched the Brady kids stumble through adolescence and be held responsible. Mike and Carol had some seriously therapeutic talks with the kids in Mike's drafting den. All the while being groovy...I also learned that moms could be milf's and dad's could wear the latest fashions and look good.

Then there's Gilligan. The Skipper too. Coconut cream pie never looked so good and the ingenuity of a group of castaways that made their life bearable on the island they called home. From Gilligan's Island I learned that the class system exists within a deserted island. That Thurston and Lovey were catered to mostly because they had a bag stuffed with useless cash with them. I learned that Hollywood beauty can be achieved anywhere and that designer couture fashions can last for years and still look good. I also know that if I ever take a chartered boat anywhere remote, I'm taking an MIT professor with me and not some daft ship hand.

From Looney tunes, I learned that Monster's can be so very interesting and to make sure to excuse myself when moving through a row in a movie theatre. I learned that beach babe's don't like scrawny little men, they like big strong men and to stay away from any package marked ACME. I learned not to mess with any sweet little parakeet's named Tweety and that Bugs will always live to see another day because even though he's constantly being hunted, he's smarter than your average rabbit. Savvy and smart equals survival.

As I look back at these things, I think about the mature content of the messages I received as a child and how I translated them into my intelligence.

Despite it all, I think I still turned out alright.

Hot Mess Madness

Did you ever, in you excitement to eat your favorite foods, bite into a steaming hot morsel and burn the roof of your mouth or your tounge?? That's a hot mess.

And there's no denying that the following celebs are hotter and messier than a burnt pie hole.

This photo, courtesy of TMZ.com, is what gave me the inspiriation for today's post.
Who is this??? You are gonna DIE when I reveal it at the end of the post.(so don't click it like it says. I'm not that technologically advanced) Makes me believe the world's gone crazy...

These two most definitely constitute a hot, steaming mess if I ever saw one. Word is that since Charlie Sheen has now checked into rehab, on the heels of his wife's decision to check into rehab, that Brooke Mueller has left the rehab facility to go home, but brought her "sober coaches, therapists and others" so that she can be with her family.

I gotta wonder how that's workin for her? Hot mess indeed. I wish them the best, really I do.

All I can say about Helena Bonham Carter, shown here at the premier of her new movie, "Alice In Wonderland" in London last night, is that she never deviates from her hot mess status. EVER.

Here she is just a bit more glam/hot mess chic.

Oooh, Courtney, where is the Love?? Remember after Kurt died and Courtney became all glam. She scored a few movie roles and was looking and feeling good. Poor thing.

This is Courtney today. Let's just say that crack is whack.

And speaking of Crack is Whack:

Sorry, this photo totally killed me...

Word from TMZ.com is that Whitney, while on tour in Australia this week, has been plauged by vocal problems, unable to hit high notes and exhibiting weird on-stage behavoir. Tmz.com reports:

"Whitney's weirdness reaches its peak right before she's supposed to hit the high note -- when she suddenly turns around, walks over to a table behind her, and then spends an excessive amount of time gearing up for the big finish."

Fans have been quoted leaving the concert saying, "the voice is gone" and "disappointing at best" and "it wasn't worth $165.00" .....Ouch.

So, are you still wondering who that grungee, bearded, Brad Pitt look-alike is in the first photo?

The wait is over:

It's none other than the King of Latin Lovers......Antonio Banderas.

SHUT UP!

The world has gone crazy! I blame Brad for making it pseudo-chic, but Antonio? That's just some crazy shit right there. No, no, and double no. I believe that Antonio was put on this earth to make grown women swoon, but not like this.

I guess he's just trying to keep it real with his wife. Because there really is no other explaination.

She's hot mess history!!!