30 Days of NaBloPoMo....minus the partridge in a pear tree. Who the hell would want that, anyhow?

Firstly--Jess, Bridgy, Al and Hillary. I would like to apologize for peer-pressurizing you into doing NaBloPoMo. I realize that I probably owe each of you $500 and a shiatzu massage for your troubles. Hills, I know you'll settle for some vodka and a puppy-sitter. I'll try to make this happen. Jess, Bridgy & Al, I'm pretty sure you'll settle for some Miller Lite and penis-straw polishers. I'm on it.

I would like to wrap-up this 30-day debacle with a post on what I've learned.

Everything I know about
Posting (this month),
I've learned from NaBloPoMo

1. C and I can blog together like nobody's business. He has a very arid (see, Jess? still using the new vocab!) sense of humor and I'm going to suggest to him ( a.k.a. tell him there won't be a Christmas unless he listens to me) that we do more joint-posts. Expect us to do more WeWe's (get it? no? oh.) in the near future.
2. 16% of the people that come to my blog via search terms have been looking for "Nascar Porn." So, in order to not alienate 16% of my potential readership, I will be writing/posting some Nascar Porn. Illustrations will be included.
3. If there's one thing that will get people commenting, it's a post on tongue scrapers (sorry, Ree! Look away or you'll puke!) and the suggestion that you should brush the inside of your cheeks. Oh the humanity! This is the MOST ridiculous thing you all have ever heard in your lifetimes!
4. Posts regarding my assinine antics as a child will most likely be a hit. Especially when they address enormous underwear and a flamboyant (U-G-L-Y, delusional) sense of style. As promised, in the near future, I will be sharing my Foray into Hookerdom as a five-year-old. It will pretty much seal-the-deal that I won't be able to run for a congressional seat. Hell, I don't think I'll be able to hold a spot on the PTA. (haha! dodged that future bullet!)
5. If I ever need help thwarting vigilante technology, all I need to do is ask and you will answer the call. Muchas gracias.

On that note....I will be signing off from this NaBloPoMo.

Please note: NaBloPoMo will be considered a swear word until further notice.

THE END.

Come Get Your Chocolate Rimmed Braless Gun Show!

As my NaBloPoMo attempt is drawing to a close, I thought it would be lovely to take a look at November's Search Terms. Let's have a little laugh at the weirdos who have found their way to my blog. No offense, weirdos. In fact, you've found your mother-ship. Have a seat.


"chocolate rimmed wine glasses"
I like to dip mine in brownie batter. Sometimes I add the wine to the batter do I don't need any pesky glasses.

"went to school braless wearing whiet keds"
You wore white keds? Who does that???

"honeyhairy.com"
Apparently this URL is up for grabs. I should nab this up for a sister-site. Wouldn't that be a cool networking card to hand out at BlogHer? "Hi! I'm Over-Thinker from Honey Hairy!" Dudes. They would flock to me.

"phallic empire state building"
Ooo..fancy talk. I just call it the building shaped like a penis. But with more metal. And people inside.

"gangsta nascar soap opera"
Clayton Edward, NO! How dare you run over my second cousin's sister's hood rat with your Gatorade endorsed Pinto!!!

"my porn"
Git yer own.

"have a hyphen?"
Thank you! Don't mind if-I-do!

"hand warm water pee bed"
jerk puts hand water asshole asshole

"sra gun show"
I'm pretty sure they meant NRA, but just in case...
Sra, you havin' a gun show out yonder? Come on, gals! I'll share muh moonshine!

"burned skin under eyes. now it stays dry all the time"
Yes, I typically find that if I light something on fire that it stays quite arid. So, well done, you!

"angel figurine that's light up"
Overheard on Black Friday at some Wal-Mart, somewhere, I'm sure: "I has my eyes on one o' them presssshus figerimes--theys light 'em up!"

"blonde pigtails phun"
The fact that they spelled fun with a "ph" touches my heart. They have definitely found their mother-ship.

Oh my GOD and dammit all to hell...and things.

Image found here.

Just kidding! I was simply in a mood for a bit of drama :-)

Now that it's out of the way, let's have a talk. And by talk, I mean, here, pull up a chair, I'm going blog about really stupid things that are really stupid. I am redundant and fun.

I apologize in advance for all of the bullet-point posts I've been spewing out into the abyss as of late. Content is not my strong-suit. In fact, I'm quite sure my blog is the opposite of content-laden. But it is full of something...

Okay, moving on...

Black Friday
(du du DUHHH)
(see? Drama)
Update

• I decided to stay home today and not get shot at a Toys 'R Us. Instead, I decided to Christmasify our apartment. C was all, "Have Fun!" I was all, "Where should I start?? Hmm, I think I'll start by eating some Totino's Pizza Rolls."

• Everything I need to know about Christmas Decorations, I learned from my cats.
  

1. If you're only 1 foot tall and named Abe, you should continually walk into the Christmas tree, even though the 11 previous times you've done it you've ended up with a pine needle in your nose/eye. Make sure you let out a pitiful whimper and then proceed to repeat the action again in 2 minutes.
2. If I say "NO! FIDGY! NO!" what I really mean is, "Hey there little, pretty kitty. Here, eat some of these small ornaments! Swallowing glass is a mellow affair!"
3. If I drop an ornament hook onto the carpet, regardless of where the kittens are in the 1300 square foot apartment, they will "HEAR" the fall and race into the living room to "GET IT!!!"

• I'm still in my pajamas. Our apartment is Christmasified. I would like some brandy. And maybe some chestnuts roasting on an open fire. I'll settle for some tequila and lighting our electric bill on fire with a candle. 'Tis the season to be arrested for accidental arson, fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la. (Yes, I had to sing it out loud to get the correct number of la's. You can check.)
  

Pre-Planned Guest Post: Food Coma Edition

My portrait obtained from here.

Oh, Hello!
This is the Over-Thinker's top-button, reporting to you live on Thanksgiving night. She wisely predicted that I wouldn't be working this evening and would therefore have a moment to wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving!

There's a chance that I won't be employed for a few weeks, so you might be hearing from me a few more times. But! Starting January 1st, I'm expecting overtime-pay due to the (TOTALLY realistic) resolution by my owner to lose 25 pounds by March. She wants to look hot for the leprechauns.

Compromise THROUGH DANCE!!!! YES!!!!

****DISCLAIMER: I'm fairly certain this has been circulating for about a month, but I JUST saw it. So, shut up.****

This is, quite possibly,
the most wonderful photo
in the history of the entire universe.

It's fancy, bi-partisan and oh-so-festive!

May this little piece of heaven get you through
the night-before-Thanksgiving prep.

Featured on www.iphonesavior.com

I have a new nickname. Not a cool one.

Just some light housekeeping. I need to get this crap out of my head so I can make room for more important things. Like room for remembering that I don't like country music and to stop giving it a chance.

Bullet-Point Lovelies

• If you try to do the skinny-face* for a photo, you'll end up looking like you're either A) Choking, or B) Have one hell of an under-bite. Note: Neither A, nor B = Pretty
• If at a business luncheon, when they take the beverage order...if your co-workers ask for Coke, Diet Coke or Tea, order The Grape Ape** at your own risk as this will now be your new nickname.
• Post-Its DO, IN FACT, WORK at foiling the evil ways of the automatic flushing toilets. Thanks to all who suggested this offensive (no pun intended) strategy
• If you say that you do not care for Liza Minelli on your blog, there's a good chance that you'll piss off a few people and get a few e-mails pointing out your judginess
• Ordering Pad Thai at a bowling alley is not as wise as it sounds--it's sort of like ordering a chili dog while dining at Louvre. Probably not their specialty.
• I've started to clap a lot when I talk. I don't know why. It makes me sound terribly emphatic about random stuff. I use it to punctuate moments when I can't remember what I was saying...for instance: "I need to go to the clap-clap-clap, uh printer to get the clap-clap-clap outline." ????

*Where you lift your chin and stick it out a bit to de-emphasize the loads of extra chin you own.
**Basically grape soda. And it's AWESOME and totally worth the nickname. Jackasses...

C Outdorked Me and is Currently seeking Delorian Wings...also-- I have a few thoughts.

TMC, at Return to Rural has graciously designed a lovely award for C.
I need to find out what TMC stands for.
Until then, I shall think of her as The Mighty Cigar.

Isn't this badge just too perfect for words?

I am so proud.


The Mighty Cigar writes:
"So here's a winner's seal, in Mountain Dew green and yellow (I couldn't figure out how to put delorian wing doors on it, sorry), proclaiming the Over-Thinker's signifother as the bigger idiot/dork of the two. Congratulations!! Feel free to copy the sh*t out of it and use it on your holiday cards or have it tattooed somewhere conspicuous. Make sure they get the colours right or it'll just look janky."

In other, unrelated news...
A few thoughts for this Monday:

Tequila shots always seem like a good idea.
Until they start to come back up, along with a Fiber One bar, as you're sucking on the lime.

It's impossible to keep one's stomach sucked in while eating the 6th piece of pizza.
Resistance is futile. Also, top-buttons are so overrated. So is low cholesterol.

If you have five minutes to compose and send an e-mail, in those five minutes, you'll get a piece of eraser in your eye, you'll choke on your tea and your laptop will freeze-up. I suppose I could have left out the part about the choking and the eraser, but I like to keep things real.

Another one of those God Damned automatic toilets flushed while I was on it--AGAIN. And I was out of Clorox Wipes!!! That's it. I'm getting a stadium pal. Now, I just need to figure out how to attach the self-adhesive condom. Suggestions?

I really don't care for Liza Minelli. That is all.

Does it make it doubly sinful that I'm Stealing on a Sunday?

Well, if God reads this blog, I have much more to answer for than this stolen topic (courtesy, once again, from Return to Rural--keep 'em coming!!). Hope God likes bed-wetting stories and strip-club enthusiasm!

SUNDAY STEALING
(courtesy of Return to Rural and Sunday Stealing)

And to shake things up a bit, I'm having (making) C also answer.
He knows my answers are the correct ones--smart husband, that C.

1. Do you like blue cheese salad dressing?
OT: Short answer, No. After drinking answer, Yes.
C: Yes, but never on its own. Mixed with a fine, French dressing, it is quite de-lish.

2. Favorite late night snack?
OT: Caviar with a side of Money. Or maybe it's sunflower seeds.
C: Usually chocolate ice cream. But if they come out with a Blue Cheese/French Dressing Slow Churn, it'll be that.

3. Do you own a gun?
OT: Just finger guns--har har.
C: Yes, sometimes I refer to them as pythons, biceps or pipes. Which way to the gun show?

4. What’s your favorite drink at Starbucks or other specialty coffee shop?
OT: Iced Coffee with a pint of 1/2 & 1/2 and a 1/4 cup of sugar. Something light.
C: Mountain Dew

5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments?
OT: If it involves stirrups, I do.
C: No, but my doctors do.

6. What do you think of hot dogs?
OT: The same way I think of head cheese. But I'll still eat a hot dog.
C: "Hey. If you were a hot dog, would you eat yourself? I know I would...." Wait. Maybe not appropriate...

7. Favorite Christmas song?
OT: Jingle Bells (or as I used to pronounce it when I was 3-year-old: BINGO BALLS!)
C: OT's Grandma singing the bass line of Silent Night at the Christmas Eve church service
OT: Wait! Can that be mine, too!!?

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
OT: Preferentially not something that went down and came back up and needs to go back down again.
C: Listerine, a great breath-freshener, tends to make anything imbibed before noon, to take on the lovely flavor of poo. So, nothing.

9. Can you do push-ups?
OT: Bras, but only if I don't want to see my feet.
C: Yes, but I think my bathroom habits are none of your business
OT: *looks at C and grows concerned*

10. What’s your favorite piece of jewelry?
OT: My wedding rings (and my jelly bracelets)
C: My jewelry? What? Huh? Never.
OT: He means to say his belly ring.

11. Favorite hobby?
OT: Reading and being critical.
C: Criticizing OT's reading ability.

12. Do you have A.D.D.?
OT: No--it must be in my other purse.
C: I was never good at math.

13. What’s one trait that you hate about yourself?
OT: Is my butt a trait?
C: Taking things far too seriously and never trying to be funny.

14. The last disease you contracted?
OT: Like chlamydia into chlam'dia?
C: Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis

15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment.

OT
1. How long is that dishwasher cycle going to take.
2. I totally need to unbutton the top button.
3. I can hear Fidgit whistle-breathing through her nose.

C
1. This Mountain Dew sure tastes good.
2. I can't wait to have ice cream later.
3. My eye hurts.

16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink?

OT
1. Diet Mountain Dew
2. Tea
3. Wine

C
1. Isn't it obvious?
2. Flavored Splenda Water...Mmmm
3. Diet Flavored Green Tea

17. Current worry right now?
OT: People are really going to think that C married a complete idiot/dork.
C: People are really going to think that OT married a complete idiot/dork. And that people are going to think I stole her answer, when she typed her answer second.

18. Current hate right now?
OT: Flag-shirts and country music.
C: I think 'hate' is too strong of a word to apply to anything right now, but I strongly dislike people who refuse to admit that our country needs change; it REALLY PISSES ME OFF. Oh, and the new Guns 'N' Roses album sucks--it's (ironically?) called Chinese Democracy.

19. Favorite place to be?
OT: Reading in the bathtub. (Well, at least when C's not in there "doing push-ups.")
C: I don't usually like to talk about it, but I'm usually doing push-ups there.

20. How did you ring in the New Year?
OT: We watched the ball drop.
C: That's what she said!

21. Like to travel?
OT: Yup
C: Sure--but level of enjoyment is dependent on the mode of transportation: Car, plane, bus...Delorian.


22. Name three people who will complete Sunday Stealing this week:
OT: Other NaBloPoMo-ers desperate for a topic
C: OJ Simpson and his two accomplices
OT: At first I was like, Wha?? And then I was, "Oh! Good one!"

23. Do you own slippers?
OT: Yes
C: No
OT: You do, too!

24. What color shirt are you wearing?
OT: Black
C: Brown, Grey, Yellow, White & Blue Plaid

25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?
OT: Ew--no.
C: If they feel anything like my silk shirts I wore in the 90's, then NO.
OT: Thank GOD I met you in 2000.

26. Can you whistle?
OT: Yes--like a mofo.
C: Yes, but not the Andy Griffith Show theme. Don't ask.

27. Favorite singer/band?
OT: I can't name just one--The Beatles, Dave Matthews Band and NKOTB (represent!)
C: The Beatles

28. Could you ever make it 39 days on the show Survivor?
OT: No, but I can sing "Eye of the Tiger"
C: I can't even WATCH 39 episodes.

29. What songs do you sing in the shower?
OT: "It's a Hard-Knock Life for _____" I personalize this song for C and the cats. I'm neat.
C: "Uncle Albert" by Paul McCartney...specifically for the "water"-part.

30. Favorite girl’s names?
OT: Beatrix Kiddo (Hi Mom!)
C: Over-Thinker

31. Favorite boy’s names?
OT: Well, now I have to say "C"
C: By now you're all expecting me to say something like Dirk Diggler, but I won't give you the pleasure.
OT: That's what she said!!

32. What’s in your pocket right now?
OT: I'm pretty sure I can safely say, not money
C: Lint, but I've got that everywhere.

33. Last thing that made you laugh?
OT: C
C: OT
Awwww

34. Like your job?
OT: Yup!
C: I'm currently in between jobs.
OT: He's holding out for a management position.

36. Do you love where you live?
OT: Sort of.
C: I don't so much love where I live, but I do live where I love.
OT: Cue the finger-guns.

37. How many TVs do you have in your house?
OT & C: 2

38. Who is your loudest friend?
OT: I only surround myself with delicate flowers. Like C.
C: OT. By far.

39. Do you drive the speed limit or speed?
OT: Speed
C: My speedometer is off by 5 miles, but I always forget in which way. So...YES.

40. Does someone have a crush on you?
OT: Yes
C: Yes, but we've progressed to the puree phase.

41. What is your favorite book?
OT: There is NO WAY I can name just one.
C: I don't even have books.
OT: You are the Yin to my Yang.

42. What is your favorite candy?
OT: How about my favorite 5? Chili-flavored chocolate, Peachy-O's, Atomic Fireballs, Buttered Popcorn Jelly Belly's and Caramel Apple Suckers.
C: Chilled Peanut Butter M&M's and Dark Chocolate Peanut M&M's. (1 1/2 pounds/week)
OT: He's not kidding.

43. Favorite Sports Team?
OT: Minnesota Twins!!!!!!!!
C: Same answer but with one more exclamation point.

44. What were you doing 12 AM last night?
OT: Watching a recorded episode of CSI
C: Eating Taco Bell while watching OT watch CSI

45. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up today?
OT: OMG, my back is killing me.
C: Cat, are you drilling?
OT: Sra, I'll bet you're the only one that gets that.

Aren't we a lovely couple?
Please invite us to all of your parties.

Way to dash my dreams, internet quiz.

I cannot tell you how saddened I am to learn this depressing statistic. This is totally making me realize that I'm more than halfway away from being British when I grow up.

Pish Posh--this cannot be correct.
Must go drink some tea and eat some crumpets (oreos).
And I know I said that I abhor "the flag shirt" but I'm sort of digging the one below.
It's not so:
"GOD BLESS THIS LAND O' MINE!!"
as it is
"Dude, I live on Portobello Road and can totally play guitar and wear skinny jeans."

You Are 45% British

You're about as British as a half hearted Anglophile... in other words, a piss poor Brit. If you are indeed from Britain, you probably consider yourself a European more than anything else. If you're trying to pass for a Brit, you're going to have to try a little harder. Go to a football match. Drink until you puke. And head in to work the next morning totally hungover.

How British Are You?

I'm a Gangsta Porn Star in the Witness Protection Program

I am stealing this from TMC/Return to Rural. She is a super writer that makes me laugh. She also posts things that I steal. In fact, I think my Sunday-post theme is also stolen for her. She's the gift that keeps on giving, if you will. Rather, she's the gift I keep on taking.

It's All in a Name

1. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother's & father's middle names)
Margaret James

2. NASCAR NAME: (first name of your mother's dad, father's dad)
Edward Clayton

3. STAR WARS NAME: (the first 2 letters of your last name, first 4 letters of your first name)
Using my moniker: Thover (that's pretty rad)

4. DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Periwinkle Kitten Dog (sure this isn't the porn name?)

5. SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you live)
Elizabeth Metro Area (uh, I guess anonymity is preventing me from participating in this one)

6. SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd favorite color, favorite alcoholic drink, optionally add "THE" to the beginning)
Green Margarita (Look! Over at the Cantina! It's ...)

7. FLY NAME: (first 2 letters of 1st name, last 2 letters of your last name)
OvEr (uh, that would be a tough one for the radio--"It's Over, over")

8. GANGSTA NAME: (favorite ice cream flavor, favorite cookie):
Blueberry Cheesecake Oreo (...gangsta of Candy Land---don't mess wit mah canes and drops, dawg!)

9. ROCK STAR NAME: (current pet's name, current street name)
Abe Cedar

10. PORN NAME: (1st pet, street you grew up on)
Chevy Hanson (I believe I covered this in a previous post...yup, I did.)

Here are the Photos: I am 5. I have huge underwear. My skates suck.

As promised, here are the photos.

As promised:
NERD ALERT!!!!!

Notice the left-behind skate--who needs 2?
When you have a fashion sense that sweet, who needs 2 skates to complete the look??


Let's talk about the underwear for a moment. Actually, before we discuss the underwear, quick re-cap on my childhood fashion sense:

Everything matches, regardless of color.
Pink and orange are awesome, as is red and purple.

All shirts must be tucked into my underwear.

A center-part in the hair with those 2-ball hair bands holding the hair is a must. Also, if one of the pigtails is actually higher than the other and the hair is pulled so tight that I can't blink--this is a major plus.


So, it looks like I've covered 1 and 3. But, what's a girl to do when she can't securely tuck a ruched, ruffled crop-top into her drawers?? Why, she simply pulls her underwear halfway up her torso, hoping to meet the crop-top halfway. Trifecta accomplished.

Those damn skates. Mom and Dad? If you're reading this? You should know that those skates were hazardous. Particularly to a young girl who could barely walk five steps without falling into a shrub.

Let's do my favorite check-list roll call:

Four neon yellow wheels per skate? CHECK
Each skate weighs at least 17 pounds? CHECK
Two pieces of blue painted metal? CHECK
Two pieces of metal held together by a washer, a screw and a wish? CHECK
More metal covered by neon yellow rubber (safety first) for toe-gripping purposes? CHECK
Hard plastic (plus probably more metal) buckle strap to gently pierce into the skin around the ankle? Hell yes--CHECK.

I can remember strapping those puppies on and almost being able to move. The sheer exhilaration of almost moving and almost lifting my feet off the ground and almost looking cool was good enough for me. Hell, I was into rock polishing--I knew how to have a good time.

The following was my signature move of driveway rollerskating:

A typical photo of me. After a fall, but pre-scabs, if you will. Laughing.
(But crying on the inside.)

After looking through some childhood photos, I've found some seriously awesome proof of my affinity for hideous fashion and dressing like a five-year-old hooker. More to come.
Oh yes...much more.

"White-Piped" Shorts and Crummy Rollerskates

As I look back fondly on my childhood, I have often pictured my 7-year-old self with those kind of shorts that had white piping around the edges. Turns out that I wasn't cool enough for white-piped shorts. But I was DEFINITELY cool enough for big white cotton underwear poking out the bottom of my shorts. The poor-man's white-piped short, if you will.

Interesting how time makes memories so much nicer....
Hey, that means in 24 years I'll look back on my foray into the men's room as a nice jaunty adventure--tralala!


The childhood rollerskating story (with photos) (oh GOD the photos) will be posted tomorrow.

P.S. Witchypoo, I'm trying to track down a photo of me in that band uniform. When I get my hands on it, it will be put on here for the world (my 9 readers) to see.

Blog Secret is Here...I'm telling someone else's secret! OOOoooo....

The post below the dashed-line is not my own--
I'm hosting the telling of this secret for a fellow blogger.

Here is how BlogSecret works...

From SoMi's Blog:
BlogSecret, the blogging exercise where one of your secrets is posted anonymously on someone else's blog. Today, I host someone else's secret. What you will read below does not come from me, but it is someone else's truth. Someone else's life. Treat it with care. And, be sure to share your thoughts in the comment section as the author knows where their secret is posted.

I've submitted a post, too---where is it posted? I'll never tell.
Definitely check out the other 79 BlogSecret posts--they will fascinate the hell out of you. And maybe (but not likely) you'll be able to figure out which one is mine!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Without further delay....
may I present,

A Fellow Blogger's Secret


My Secret: If I got pregnant, I would have an abortion

If you would have asked me a year ago what my reaction would be to getting pregnant, I would have been elated.

I’d just had a miscarriage and was constantly hearing about friends’ and family members’ newly added bundles of joy. I was hateful and angry on my best days, depressed and suicidal on my worst.

I dealt with four months of infertility treatments before I threw in the towel. Four months is nothing compared to the years some women deal with, but I didn’t want infertility to map my life. I wanted total control.

I threw myself into activity after activity, desperate to fill up the gaping whole pregnancy and infertility had left behind.

Success started to gnaw away at notions of self-doubt I had about myself. I started to become an expert source on topics I’d only read about 18 months before. I began creating and consulting and crying tears of joy.

I had finally arrived at the peaceful place you only read about in self-help books.

During a recent get-together with my husband and his friends, someone asked me if I’d thought about having kids.

I mentioned my miscarriage and how I’d tried for four months but decided it wasn’t meant to be. This mother of two little ones insisted that I would change my mind and that I would probably be pregnant again within a year.

I thought about that. I didn’t tell her at the time and I’ve never come right out and said this to anyone until now: If I got pregnant now, I’d have an abortion.

My life is perfect just the way it is right now. I travel without guilt and have career plans that I refuse to let a baby get in the way of. A baby would derail my plans. My baby would be resented for all I had to give up.

Sometimes...All I need is the air that I breath and to driii-ink.

Oh Friday, where for art thou, Friday??

Pedal to the metal, Friday, get a move on.
Hurr-izzah Up-izzah!!!

I know it's cliche as balls to say that Monday sucks.
But today, it sure as hell did. Balls were totally sucked.

It's Monday! Alarm clock, don't worry about actually going off! Grreat!
It's Monday! Why not buy a new radiator for the truck! Neat!
It's Monday! Kitten, please be diagnosed with a lifelong issue! Terrific!
It's Monday! Goodbye savings account! See you next yeeeeear! Wheee!

Suck it, life. Suck. It.

On that fantastic note, let's talk about Band.
(pun not intended, but awesome)

Image found here.

I've talked about stylistically riding the short-bus in my adolescent years and my foray into Band Camp was absolutely no exception. Although I wasn't in the band's Color-Guard, I was still waving a flag. One that said, "Aren't sweatpants awesome and also, I'm a loser!" Yes, that IS a lot of words for a flag, but somehow, I managed to fit all of them on.

Along with many other young females, I decided that I wanted to play the flute. In middle school I played like 18th chair flute. For those of you that don't follow musical rankings, 18th chair is not necessarily something you'd want to shoot for. Unless, of course, you were shooting for sucking. You know that saying "Shoot for the Moon. If you miss, you'll land among the stars."? Not so much. More like Shoot for the mouth piece, even if you miss, your spit will end up on your band director's music stand.

At the end of middle school, I decided that I needed to move on from the flute. (Actually, I'm pretty sure my flute was ready to move on from me.) How does one decide what instrument they want to play? Why, look at the other instrument sections and see which ones had the cutest boys. Alto Sax it is! Plus, the fingerings were similar to the flute, so I wouldn't be too behind. But really, when you're sitting near 18th chair, it has to get better, right? And it did! I made it to 5th chair! (Out of 5, but who's counting. Quit counting, Mom. I AM practicing!!)

Freshman year. This brings me to band camp. Really,
I must paint you a picture of the hotness that was 9th-grade me:

Braces....CHECK!
Padded Bra with Butterflies....CHECK!
Frosted lipstick....CHECK!
Purple Shorts made out of Cut-Off Sweatpants....CHECK!
Residual sweatpant-cuttings MADE INTO WRISTBANDS....OH MAH GOD!

All of this
+
Band Membership
=
Me thinking: Sweet fancy Moses, how the hell did I make it out of freshman year without a Colossal Wedgie and Homeschooling? I mean, man---wow. I should have stayed home. Maybe my mom just couldn't stand another day looking at my mad-fashion sense. Or maybe she was jealous of my snazzy wristband a la sweatpants' cuff. Screw Culinary, I should have majored in Fashion Merchandising..or at least minored in Knitwear Manipulation.

I haven't even told the tale of my Marching Band headpiece! Purple, fuzzy cowboy hat, anyone?
That is SO going to be an entire post...I shall title it:

Going through Puberty in Purple Marching Band-wear. Oh, and also getting my period on a band trip.
On a bus.

When you've sneezed much, you've hurt your neck...

...it's time to not post. So, I am taking the day off, but not really, but really, from posting.

How about a poem instead?

Roses are Red,

Violets are Blue,

Come back tomorrow and there will actually be some damn words to read!

I mean,

Tomorrow I'll have words for you!

Happy Not-a-Post Sunday!!

Blog Secret is Coming....and I told a doozy.

I've done it. I've spilled a secret out onto the web.

No, it's not my cupcake recipe or a photo of my hairy legs.

SoMi came up with this
awesome idea:



Objective

Write a blog post about something secret. Publish it anonymously on someone else's blog.

Nearly 90 bloggers will be participating in this scandalous fun--juicy tidbits will abound. I may have to refer to it as BlogGate '08. For my secret post, I even changed my writing format. So, if you're going to try and figure out which one is mine, you won't be able to find it by looking for:

• The dot-dot-dot after everything

• Quotes around everything

• The phrase, "I was all..."

(Ooo! That last one was like a 3 for 1! Nice!)

On November 18th, all will be revealed....
Mooowhahahahahahaha!

Lame Post Friday: Inaugural Edition: Bite one nail? They all must go.

Photo found here.

+



Drawing found here.
Oh my God, you have no idea of the photos that come up when you search "Hand Photos" or "Finger Nails"...hello? I didn't search dismemberment!! This was the best I could do.

=

POST.

Okay, so I know I've had other lame-o posts up on previous Fridays, but this time it's in a more official capacity.

I am a nail biter. But not like a big one. I bite my nails when I'm nervous or when I'm watching Storm Chasers (or a particularly gripping episode of Shear Genius).

Every month, I attempt to stop. I usually make it about 2 weeks in and then BOOM, the Storm Chasers actually SEE A TORNADO and I'm all nibble-nibble.

And if one happens to break or snag? It's over. They are all hitting the fan. I'm an all or nothing kind of gal with nails. I'm fascinated/disgusted by women who hold onto like 3 out of 10 really long nails and file/buff the hell out of those and then the remaining 7 looks like hobo nails. Hello? Give up the ghost. Start over. Be a quitter!!! You can do it!!!

Like I'm accountable for this whole NaBloPoMo thing (Still haven't linked any posts to the actual NaBloPoMo --but see? All or nothing! NONE of the posts are linked!), I figured I could give the old "quit biting my damn nails" another college try for the month of December. I'll call it a National Don't Bite Your Nails Month...or NaDoBiteMo. Come January first, I will post a Before and After of my hands. I really think I'll be able to do this! I'll just have to keep my hands busy by forking in mouthfuls of cheesecake during episodes of Storm Chasers or something. Gee, how will I ever cope? It'll be sort of a preemptive New Years' resolution...but with cheesecake. Cool.

Hangin' (Tough) with Over-Thinker. That's right, I went to a NKOTB concert. Jealous? No? Suck it then.

BEFORE
(Whoa. Huh, apparently, back in the day, I liked my guys to sport updo's)

AFTER
(niiiiiiice)

Hahahahaha, just kidding. Like I would go to a New Kids on the Block concert. Shhhaaaaaaaaaaa right!

Okay. Sha right. I did. And I loved it. But, in a totally respectable manner. Let me set the stage for how my brush with teen idol greatness came to be. From this point on, I'll be referring to them as NKOTB--not because I'm trying to sound cool (because, let's face it--this is a post about New Kids on the Block....The "coolness ship" has sailed....in fact, it just sank)--but because it's much easier to type.

I'll go ahead and make copious references to NKOTB songs...
Here, I'll take it STEP BY STEP!!

My Journey to The Block--

(hell yes, I DID just call it that)

1. The company I work for typically has a lot of concert tickets for sale--at pretty good discounts (hence, I will be seeing Wicked in a few short weeks). My co-worker, R, saw that NKOTB would be in town. Over lunch, she announced this fact to a bunch of us sitting around. I believe she said (in a totally timid way...apparently she was thinking that people MIGHT possibly give her crap for showing interest in this concert), "I wonder if anyone at XXXXXX* is going to go the that concert." This was met by about 10 huge guffaws of laughter and one, "SHUT UP!! SHUTUPSHUTUP!! They're coming?!! I would totally go!!" Too bad the 10 huge guffaws didn't cover up my 12-year-old enthusiasm. I swear, I yelled like Paul Revere lettin' loose that the British were on their way. Chill. Pill. What. Is. That.

2. So, the 2 of us bought our tickets---gee, go figure, no one else wanted to go. Whatevs...the 80's were calling us on our light-up, clear, plastic phones and we were so totally answering. Like majorly. Yeah, we're 30ish. Yeah, we've still got THE RIGHT STUFF.

3. At this point, I must preface that although R & I are NKOTB fans, neither of us were THOSE fans. I never had THE SHEETS, THE GINORMOUS BUTTONS, etc. I might possibly have had so many NKOTB posters (36/wall) in my room that my parents may have had to repaint the room after I moved out. Really though--I kept it pretty subtle. Dance Contest Series, T-Shirts, 100+ posters, 20,000 mixed tapes. All joking aside---my dance routine (complete with nightgown+generic ballet type slippers+belt around said nightgown) to I'LL BE LOVING YOU (FOREVER) brought the house down. And by "house down" I mean my parent's dying inside as they realized that they had raised a dipshit.

4. The night of the concert, R & I discussed that we would not be dressing like moronic cougars. We were going to play it cool (as one can play while attending a NKOTB concert). When we got to the concert location, we saw ninebagazillion 30 to 40+ -year-olds dressed in their daughters' clothing. Also, there was a lot of fringe and glitter. I was all, "Where's the mechanical bull?" No bull. Just a lot of super-confident women, living vicariously through memories of their teen years, taking it a step too far, and looking like they were on day passes from a Sanitarium/Whorehouse....but anyhoooooo.

5. When the manboys took the stage, all bets were off. R & I let out our fair share of screams, but for the most part, we maintained a certain level of decorum. It was kind of funny--the two rows of seats, in front and back of us, were filled with people from our (very large) company. I think we were all trying to maintain a "ha-ha, thought this might be fun, I'm totally not a freak" look. While inside we were all hoping for a wardrobe malfunction from Donnie. AND IT HAPPENED!!! His belt came undone and there were hopes for more. He is the "bad boy" afterall. Alas, the pants stayed up.

6. Speaking of pantalones....Joey-Joe (our personal favorite) was rockin' the skinny jeans. And by rockin' I mean Jesus Christ, I think he jumped from a 3-story building to get into those things. I suppose the tightness helped him reach the high notes in PLEASE DON'T GO GIRL. There was much swooning by the crowd and we did see a pair of underwear thrown on stage. No joke.

7. Nearly 20 years later (Holy Mother of God--20!!!), they are still SO GOOD. Regardless of the gag-me fact that they are a boyband, they are still REALLY good. Especially when you take into account that they're all in their mid to late 30's and I'm thinking that one of them is 40. They moved around on stage like they were teenagers and their voices hit the notes that only dogs (and cougars) could hear. I would definitely go (without telling anyone) again. My love for them will be HANGIN' TOUGH.

....but only on the inside because hello? No way my co-workers and husband would let me live down seeing them TWICE.

*XXXXXX=The company I work for. Not a really, really dirty movie.

You are totally going to have to wait for the Embarrassing Concert of the Century

Yes, I've become one of those people. Those people who tell you, "I have something to tell you! It's awesome!" "But I can't tell you until later." I'm super fun.

I just had drinks (three! glasses! of! WINE!) with an old co-worker of mine (who has totally moved onto a better paying job and who is totally not dangling (huh, dangling) that in my face) and I totally am unable to be a good blogger right now. In fact, I can't believe my fingers are actually finding the keyboard. Or mouse. (Actually, I just clicked the calculator, attempting to open a window. Awesome. Hi Mom!)

I would like to dedicate this buzzy post to my blogging BFF (because that's what you do when you drink and blog, right?)

HILLARY!!!!!!


We are very much alike. It's scary. In fact, her (NEW!) husband, Shawn, should count his lucky stars that I don't live there because the two of us would get into so much trouble. She is awesome beyond words. So. I'm really hoping that she, too, didn't go out with a former co-worker tonight...I'm sure her post is golden. (Hills, I owe you one.)

Okay, just popped over to her blog to see if she was full of bloggy-content and saw that Hills is linking to another blogger today, but it's a pretty important link. Seriously. No joke--sobering stuff. I'm about to check it out myself. Let's go together.

Chasing Christmas---Preempted by Stadium Pal

So, we were in the kitchen and C asked me what I was going to blog about. I told him "I can't remember what the schedule said," to which he replied, "I think you're doing your Chasing Christmas post," to which I replied...."Ohhh crap! That's, like, a thinking-post. I don't want to do any thinking," to which he replied, "Okay, Over-Thinker," to which I responded with a sucker punch to his arm. Don't mess with me, C--I'm skilled and punchy when pooped. I am tired. And that post was supposed to be a good one. Ya know, not like the usual drivel. So, I'm saving it--for a couple of weeks.

Instead, how about I rip off Jess's idea of featuring a bit of someone else's humor? Jess supplemented her bloggy-goodness with Richard Simmons-style hilarity---God..could you imagine if he went by Dick Simmons? Talk about perfection.

No Dicky Simmons on this post, but I do have David Sedaris and his Stadium Pal. I would like to be David Sedaris when I grow up-- I want to create brilliant, humorous books of prose and to live in France with a man. He can keep his Stadium Pal.

Free Sunglass-Thingys! Ugly! But Free! (But ugly..) (Actually Butt-Ugly)

The enthusiasm over this post idea (through comments and e-mails) made me realize that you're all as crazy as I am. And for that, I am relieved. One of us! One of us!

Remember how I gifted Hills & Shawn with some beautiful elder-wear in the form of glaucoma-check glasses? Well as soon as I outfitted Shawn with the specs, I received a lovely pair from my own optician. But now, instead of the wrap-around methodology, they've gone a bit more minimalist and removed the frame part that actually rests over the ears; now all that remains is something that simply screams: John Lennon-y pince-nez. Actually, all that remains is something really, really ugly.

All apologies for the somewhat stringy Jersey-Girl hair.
Naturally curly hair + no time for flat-iron love = Niiiiiiiiice.

Remember being embarrassed by your dad's clip-on eye-wear? This is MUCH worse. So, of course, I'm saving them to wear on outings with my children. I'll slip 'em on right before I grab their 13-year-old hands to skip across the parking lot, all the time telling them how radical/awesome/sweet (whatever the word-of-the-day 10 years prior was) they are. Maybe I'll even flash some signs--to let their classmates know their mom has street-cred.

Yeah, that's all I've got. What wasn't captured in the photo was the chest-knock-knock before I tossed the sign. Also slightly magical is my hand, completely void of pigment.


Jess, I know you thought this might actually be a giveaway, so I apologize for any disappointment. BUT if I get a free napkin at a restaurant, I'll totally toss that into the next contest. Will that fill the void? :-)

I'm hoping my next toothbrush will come with an emery board or maybe a can of peas. Because really, that would be helpful.

I purchased this toothbrush because of the colors:
Orange, Pink & Purple.

Totally necessary morning colors. Also because the other toothbrushes were like blue, blue and blue OR red, white and blue. I could only use a red, white & blue toothbrush if I also had a flag towel. I couldn't do that. I wouldn't want visitors to take one look at our bathroom and think for even a moment that I might wear flag-clothing. (A cardinal sin to me.) Flag-clothing and overalls. And button fly pants...cripes, this is for another post. I DIGRESS.....

I'm a tongue-brusher. I have always been a tongue-brusher. I don't feel like I've had a successful brushing experience until the bristles have touch my uvula and I've gagged at least twice. Don't get me wrong--I'm not a bulimic (one look at my thighs would tell you that).

So, imagine my surprise when, at home, reading the toothbrush packaging, I noticed that the back of the toothbrush had a BONIFIED "Tongue & Cheek Cleaner." What the hell, Colgate? Is this really necessary? I mean, aren't the BRISTLES used for cleaning/BRUSHING just fine? They are what I've been using for years. Done brushing the teeth? Rinse off the toothbrush and head back in to brush the tongue and cheeks. Not once have I thought, "Hmm...I would really like to brush my tongue and cheeks but I don't know what to use. Should I use my loofah? Maybe my pumice stone? Nah..I'll just skip it. Wish my toothBRUSH had something I could use..."

It's like a product that has used up all of it's "New!" "Now with!" and "Better than Ever!" ideas...A toothbrush is a toothbrush, Colgate. I'm okay with that. Some gadgets are what they are. You don't need to sell me on the obvious or add something that's redundant and stupid...i.e. A toilet plunger--with wow!!--another toilet plunger on the other side of the stick! FINALLY. I can stop using my hands to plunge the toilet when I get sick of using Plunger A! Whee!!!

Low Traffic Saturdays

As I know a lot of people take a break from blogging on the weekends (or for a whole month..or, something, I wouldn't know....), I've decided to not really do a post post, but more of a syllabus for the upcoming week....

Sunday: I'm sure this will be a super-awesome post. I'm seriously considering writing about the "tongue-brushing-side" of toothbrushes. Hold on to your seats...

Monday: Free Sunglasses--they're ugly. BUT FREE!!! But UGLY!!!

Tuesday: Chasing Christmas and other actionable offenses at Casa de Over-Thinker

Wednesday: I went to a concert. One that might, in fact, make you want to go off me for a while. Or else, it may make you fall in love with me all over again. But, probably the former...

Thursday: Take a Photo MeMe: Home Tour Edition

Friday: One time? At band camp? Another moronic moment in the history of Moi.

Sounds like a fun time, yes?*

*Fun time is equal to counting blades of grass, passing a gall stone or watching people play video games.

I am an IDIOT & Automatic Flushing Toilets: Machines of the Devil

It's a well-known fact that I can craft an entire post based upon completely stupid topics. Does anyone remember the Yard Stick Suspenders? Really--I now own 6 pairs. DAMMIT. I should have made a pair of 'em yesterday's give-away. Poop---well, maybe next time.

Anywhoooo...moving on...

Not. So. Much.

Part I

Mortification Complete

So, on Thursday, I was walking down the incredibly long hallway at my workplace, on my way to the restroom. In this long hallway, there are MANY bathrooms. The first one is about 20 paces from my office door. I apparently miscounted my paces (ya know, cause I was busy doing the hallway-hello) and....I entered the Men's Bathroom. NOT COOL.

This hallway is very busy--in fact, it's called "The Main Stem." MUCH traffic. MANY witnesses. NO WAY IN HELL to back out of that little slice of awkward. AND I actually walked like FIVE steps into the bathroom---the door almost shut all the way before I realized where I was!

And the Y-Chromosome'd Cherry on Top of that Bathroom Sundae? I literally walked into a guy on his way out of the bathroom!! I think the mini-girl screams we each let out brought more attention to my little faux pas. Now, if I would've exited the men's room to some laughter & "way-to-go applause," I would've been fine with that. But no. NO ONE WOULD LOOK AT ME AND THEY TOTALLY RAN AWAY FROM ME (hopefully not in the direction of HR).

Part II Salt (Toilet Water) in the Wound

Meanwhile, back at the Ranch (the CORRECTLY-SEX'D BATHROOM)....I decided I needed a bit of pampering, so I chose the Handicap Stall...hey, a girl needs some room to pace in private after she performs an unintentional act of sexual harassment. When I finally calmed down, I realized that I still had to "go" so I took a seat. And, before I was "done," the toilet flushed! Sonofa!! Come ON! I was NOT planning on a SURPRISE BIDET! So, now my butt's all wet with God knows what liquid-germiness. And it's not like I could hop up in the air, away from the Flush (I was still peeing!!).

Nooooo....I had to sit there, getting "watered" by Old Urine Faithful! Normally, this type of situation would freak me out to the point of rocking back and forth and going to a "happy place," but for some reason, I was really pissed off (no freaking pun intended). So, I cleaned up as much as I could and went back to my office. Being all OCD, I have a huge tub of Clorox Wipes at my desk. YES I DID. I HAD NO CHOICE!!!!! Don't think they'll be putting that on their commercials anytime soon. Don't think I'll be sitting down to pee anytime soon. Welcome to Hover-Town.

Who woulda thunk it!? All I needed to do was offer up something Pink and Mysterious and my Traffic goes through the roof!!

Oh, you funny, funny people. I can't tell you how much you made me laugh. Sparklie, when I read your initial entry, I thought you were just using rough, street-cred-type talk. Until I found out that you were just special :-)

And Natalie? The comparison of my thumb to a dimpled thigh nearly made me pee myself! Well done! Seriously--thank GOD for random.org because there is no way I could have picked a favorite. You all are hilarious.

Miss Hyphen? Such initiative! The multiple entries! I am totally awarding you extra-credit in the form of a unique shout-out:

Go Check-Out the Contents of Hyphen-Mama's Bra!!

And now, for the winner of this

Pink, Mysterious, EXTRAVAGANZA!!!

The winner (chosen by Random.org) is:

MEG!!!!
(Yes, that really is Meg. Holding a Pineapple. Isn't she fantastic? I totally think so.)

Also, she's been telling me for nearly a year now that she will be doing/wants to do a seasonal-fruit-in-the-bathroom photo shoot, but so far? Nothing. I've been looking at that pineapple since last February. Meg? Maybe it's time for a pear.

Meg's Captcha contribution:
SUSCR
*drunken slur* Glass of suscr and vodka please

----Even when she's drunk, she's polite!----

And what has she won?

The most soft-est, comfy-est

PINK SOCKS ON THE PLANET!!
Please note that the hideous yellow light does not come with the socks.

(Nate? Aren't you just so ticked-off that you didn't win a pair of pink, fluffy socks? You could have worn them to work! Or out to the bar with the guys! Better luck next time.
Maybe I'll give away a bra in the next contest.)

You'll be happy to know that the money used to purchase the socks goes to a very worthy cause:

The Red Dress Campaign

(hence the little red dress logo)

MEG: Please send your mailing address to
theartofoverthinking(at)gmail(dot)com

Tomorrow, this blog will return to it's

normally scheduled programming of pure and utter class...

AUTOMATIC FLUSHING TOILETS:

MACHINES OF THE DEVIL

Wordless Wednesday: Pink Surprise Edition

So, I've never been big on the whole shutting up thing. And I was always the first to lose the "quiet game." Not a surprise that I can't keep my mouth shut on what's supposed to be a wordless post. But I'll be brief. Actually, probably more like boxer briefs...

It's time for a contest. I'm giving something away. It's a surprise! And oh, it's going to be a shame if you don't win this....you'll be very, very upset. The loss could be, dare I say, tragic to some.
I am not dramatic at all.

Here is your visual clue.

I'm a little disturbed by how much my thumb looks like an elephant trunk.

Lately, many of you have been sharing your captcha (word verifications).
I've been seeing some super interesting ones on your blogs, too.

My favorites include:
BINGJA
WELLIHOO
NUNSY
WASTIN

Oh Nunsy! Wellihoo!! You there? Quit wastin your day and come over for a game of Bingja!

I think you see where this is going....if you don't, time to lay off the drink.


To enter the contest, this is what you need to do:
1. Leave a comment with your captcha.
2. Use your captcha in a sentence.

This will be like our little nerdy game of Balderdash. Or is that redundant?

In tomorrow's Evening Post (hahahahaha, that was awesome. Don't get it? Again, time to lay off the drink.) I'll announce the winner of the mysterious pink item, chosen by some whoosit whatsit online that will randomly do it for me!

Good luck! Hope you captcha a good one!!! BWahahaha!

A Matter of Change

Besides the Lucy post, I haven't really
been serious about anything on here.

C and I just returned from casting our votes.
I nearly cried in the booth. I nearly cried at dinner. I'm nearly crying now.

I've never felt so strongly about my vote, my hopes, my anticipation.
My future. Our future.
Never in my life have I cared so much.

Now--along with America, we wait.

Regardless of your political affiliation, I hope you voted today--with passion.
With A LOT of passion.

I'm in print! I'm in print!

Celebrity is as celebrity does!!

Okay, my name's now on a Starbuck's card, but hello? That totally counts.

Remember FriYet and her lovely lemon-colored, 1st-Place Runner-Up, locks?

Well, FriYet had a kick-ass little contest over on her blog. I entered said contest and totally killed. My entry was obviously the superiorest..uh, -est!!!!!!!! MWahahahahahaha! Heh. I'm thinking that FriYet is starting to reconsider calling me a winner.

Check out my credentials.


This little number totally replaces my Jelly-of-the-Month membership card. I'll just flash this baby while at numerous locations (Starbucks) and get loads of free stuff (Starbucks coffee) and get the respect of all of my peers (Starbucks' employees). Shut up.

How did I win it? Well, FriYet challenged her readers with the following:
If you could beat her current play-list segue of DEAD KENNEDYS to DEAN MARTIN in either your IPod or your CD collection, she would give you a Starbucks' gift card. And I won! If you look closely at the card, you can see she further personalized it with, "Listens to Copeland's Appalachian Spring....to....Boo Sings!" How cool is that!? The personalized card. NOT the fact that I have a Boo-Berry Cereal soundtrack in my CD collection. Because really, that's, like, beyond cool--wouldn't you say? No? Again, shut up.

Her generosity is rubbing off on me and on Wednesday, I will be holding a contest with a give-away. Boys--be warned, the prize is pink. That is all I can reveal. In fact, that's all that will be revealed until I announce the winner. Ooooo, mysterious pink things ahead!! I keep trying to type something clever to follow that sentence and everything just sounds dirty, so I think I'll stop. Happy, Mom? Yeah, thought so. :-)

Quote-Fingers McGee and other People I don't wish to become--oh God, I'm Quote Fingers McGee!!!! Nooooo!

Other pair of quote-fingers doing double-duty of taking the picture.
But, I was still thinking the total gesture in my head, so it totally counts.

Using Quote-Fingers is ADDICTIVE! I tend to use them when it's so painfully obvious in the intonation of my voice (quote-intonation-fingers, if you will) that my quote-fingers are dreadfully redundant. I seem to use Quote-Fingers A LOT these days--they're becoming a crutch. I'm becoming THAT person. I need to wear more pants with pockets so I can put YE WEAPONS OF TRUTH AWAY!!!

I also use a lot of quote-fingers in my writing. I eschew the italics--they're just too grown-up for me. I like the more, in-your-face, ho-ho-ho! of the written quotes. I know it's usually unnecessary. But really, for the most part, so are a majority of my thoughts.

Quote-fingers are just one step away from another overused hand-gesture. No, I'm not speaking of the good ol' finger, but moreover, the finger-gun, used by car-salesmen and smarmy people the world over. It's never effective. Except for the photo below, I've never honestly used that gesture...in fact, I think it's the law that you have to say, "You've got it, Babe," and to also make a tongue clicking noise whilst "firing" your finger-gun. This gesture works best when wearing a bolo tie.


Okay, so I need to quit it with the whole quote-fingers thing and the finger-gun is NOT an option. Unfortunately, my assholeness has not been limited to the errant gesture--Lately, I've been really close to setting off the puke-green alert (similar to the Amber Alert, but mainly for moronic tendencies) with using the following phrase:

"I know, right?"

AFTER WAY TOO MANY THINGS!!!! It always makes me sound WAY more enthusiastic about whatever topic is being discussed. For instance:
Co-Worker: I am so tired.
Me: I know, right???

It's like it's the new "Me, too!"----gag. I make myself gag. Not "gag," but GAG.


I'm pretty sure it would be a catchphrase that DJ Tanner, a la Full House, circa 1980-whatever would use in the midst of a pow wow with Kimmy Gibbler. But for some damn reason, I feel I MUST work this into my lingo of 2008. It comes off as Valley-Girl meets oh, I don't know---ME. Not pretty. Must quit that crap, too.

What about you? What phrase or gesture do you employ that makes you want to give yourself a wedgie?? This can be our little self-help comment-circle. If you see a phrase or gesture listed in the comments, consider yourself warned--you're probably pissing-off/annoying the hell out of at least 5 people per day. Ya know, just FYI, LOVE YOU!