Archives for September 2012

Call Me, Maybe?

Confession Friday: I love Carly Rae Jepson’s, Call Me Maybe.

But even more so, I love parodies of Carly Rae Jepson’s Call Me Maybe.

So I’m totally a teeny bopper at heart. I love their music. Secretly. Sort of. This summer, Brian, who rarely spends a lot of time in a vehicle with me–you know other than weekends traipsing for hours around the vast Chicago suburbs…(Seriously–it takes an hour for us to get to his mom’s house)–put a limit on the number of times we could listen to Carly Rae in a 24 hour sleep cycle.

That number was:

One.

Just once. I had to be cautious as to whether I wanted to jam out on the way to someplace or after someplace. And if we were out somewhere and heard it, then I wouldn’t be able to play it on the way home! Oh the sadness!

Anyways. Parodies. The reason for this post. (And the reason that my boyfriend may just stop reading the blog that he FINALLY just started reading…)

I’ve gone ahead and included all of my favorites. Because they are rockin’ hilarious. And I need to make you laugh. And I’m too busy to write a huge long post, I’ve got McDonald’s Monopoly to win, new books to read (Hello JK Rowling grown up book),  and, I mean come on, guys, I did just start a new job!

So here you go. In all their glory. I give you the best parodies on the interwebs:

NFL Replacement Refs–This One’s For YOU

 

Okay, this one too…

Then there’s the subject of school lunches…

And the obvious important zombie tribute…

While I’m not in my thirties yet, I’m awfully close!

And my personal favorite, (Mostly because I really understand where he’s coming from…)

Anyone willing to share cookies (or brownies) with this Cookie Monster–I love snacks!

The runners up were the United States Olympic Swimming Team Lip Sync, Call Me Lochte, Biebs and friends, and Jimmy Fallon with Carly Rae.

For reading to the bottom…you get bonus confession Friday:I can’t cook without making a HUGE mess. On myself. Note the ridiculous amount of butter covering my shirt. But I DID manage to recreate the Brussels sprouts from my foodgasm dinner.

Messy Shirt

If I can’t keep it in the pan, it gets all over my shirt…

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

The Most Amazing Meal I Have Ever Consumed

Just when you thought the Disney posts were over…

While in Disney, Brian and I decided to take a day off from the hustle and bustle of park-hopping. I had discovered that there was a dance club (yes, ladies and gentleman, my boyfriend likes to dance!) and so I suggested taking a trip to Disney’s Boardwalk Resort to go dancing.

After a lovely rainy afternoon at Port Orleans with Penny and her hubs, we made our way back to the Caribbean Beach Resort with a plan. Talk to concierge about making us dinner reservations, and then go dancing. I had previously Yelped to find restaurants in the general area, and discovered a cool looking Greek restaurant. Our resort concierge also recommended it, so we went with it. She booked us reservations, and we went back to the room to relax and get ready.

Our plan was to allot about an hour for transit, as we needed to jump on a bus to MGM erm Hollywood Studios and then grab another bus to the Boardwalk (I can’t help but think about Monopoly every time I see, hear, or say this). So we headed out dressed to the vacay 9’s.

Dressed for an amazing dinner

Dressed up for dinner

We got on the bus, and made sure that we would be able to connect to our final destination. The driver assured us that all would be well. Upon departure from the resort, Brian and I were the only guests on the bus…and I noticed that our driver seemed to going in the wrong direction…

We landed on the Boardwalk a whole hour earlier than our reservations thanks to the rockstar bus driver who gets mad props from me! He informs us that to get back, we won’t have a direct route, but we weren’t worried. Our plan was to cab it back for a few bucks and no hassle.

So we watched the sun set over Disney’s Yacht and Beach Club…and it was as Disney is known for…magical.

Sunset at the Boardwalk

Sunset

After touring the Boardwalk, we arrived at our destination. Celebrity chef, Cat Cora’s restaurant, Kouzzina.

Cat Cora Celebrity Chef

Cat Cora!

Kouzzina Restaurant

YUM!

So, in addition to a fun, blunt, awesome sauce sort of server, I was fed the most amazing meal of my entire life. Think I’m joking? Check this shit out.

Goat Cheese Sto Fourno

The Appetizer: Goat Cheese Sto Fourno -Greek Olive Oil drizzled over Baked Goat Cheese, topped with fresh Pequillo Peppers, pitted Kalamata Olives, & Artichoke Hearts (served with bread and arugula) God I love arugula.

Then, when we thought, oh God, we’re out of bread…how will we ever eat the rest of this goat cheese? (I know, you’re probably thinking what  I was actually thinking– Duh, Chrissy, with a spoon).

This was delivered to the table:

Olive Oil Tasting

Yep, an olive oil tasting. With two types of olive oil and marinated olives. And a whole basket of delicious warm bread! YUM.

Then it was dinner time. Like I wasn’t alright full on apps and olives and bread…Oh GAWD.

Pork Tenderloin

Oak-fired Pork Tenderloin (with a molasses and brown sugar crust) with Feta Gremolata, Zucchini Cornbread, and Fresh Broccolini. I think I may have had several foodgasms during this event.

Ribeye

Brian’s Dinner: Wood-grilled Rib-Eye Steak with fresh Herb Salsa, Broccolini, and Kouzzina Potatoes (garlic and rosemary anyone?) This was also delightful.

Brussels Sprouts

Around here, we like our veggies, so we ordered a side of these babies: Sautéed Brussels Sprouts cooked in a Brown Butter Vinaigrette, Capers, and Parmesan Cheese

By this point, I was stuffed. Like Crazy. Freaking. Stuffed. I had had so many foodgasms, I couldn’t even count. To top it all off, Brian almost insisted that we have dessert. I mean, I guess the most amazing meal of ones’ life should have dessert, right? I thought so, too.

So did our server. She came up with this little pose for my gratuitous photo shoot…

Mouse Ears

Browsing the Dessert Menu–like a Boss! Like the Boss. The Disney Boss. 😉

Dessert
Baklava– A Pastry rolled with Pistachios, Honey, and Cinnamon served with Vanilla Praline Gelato. Oh yeah. That was it right there.

So there you have it folks. The most amazing meal in the history of ever. The meats were cooked to perfection. The flavors were outstanding. The service was top-notch. The experience? Magical. That is what Disney is know for, you know…

I could just leave you with that…but then the following pictures would have been for naught. And I just couldn’t have that…

IGPS (Insert Gratuitous Photo Shoot): If I ever do food reviews, I’m giving pictures instead of stars.

Empty Plate

1 Picture: Empty Plate = I Was Satisfied

Empty Table

2 Pictures: Empty Table = This Was Pretty Good. I’d Eat Here Again

Empty Plate 1

3 pictures Happy Chrissy = tasty meal. I’d do it again.

Happy Chrissy

4 Pictures Really Happy Chrissy = Oh Man, That Was Really Freakin’ Delicious.

Foodgasm

5 Pictures: Multiple Foodgasms = Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Inappropriate? Maybe…But you’re laughing aren’t you? You dirty devil, you.

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I Make a Terrible Housewife

When I was 12, my mom was diagnosed with Hepatitis C after years of poor liver counts and ignorant doctors who told my mother (who rarely drank, and even more infrequently drank to excess) to drink less. Miraculously, she fit the prerequisites for an experimental drug study using Interferon and Ribavirin which, until very recently, was the main drug combination used to treat patients with Hepatitis C.

Unfortunately, Interferon and Ribavirin come with some nasty side effects. Essentially, Mom was sick 4-5 days out of any given week for six months. As the responsible oldest child in our household, it became my duty to ensure that the family was fed, the house wasn’t a disaster, the new pool (our consolation “prize” for having a sick mom) was taken care of, and Mom had whatever she needed.

I essentially took over being Mom for a while. I made sure everyone had a hot meal at dinner time, maintained a clean-ish house, catered to my mom’s illness, and tried to keep everyone’s spirits high. It wasn’t easy. I frequently yelled at my younger-by-10-months brother to put his stuff away, because I JUST cleaned that room, scolded my 50-year-old father for trekking mud into the kitchen or ordered my 70-year-old grandfather to stop eating because I was cooking dinner.

My grandfather used to tell me I'd make some man a great housewife. Boy was he wrong.

Of course, that grandfather of mine was a real spitfire. Whenever I was cooking, cleaning or lecturing him on something, he would look at me with a sparkle in his old man eyes and tell me, “You’re going to make some man a great housewife someday.” His comments burned in my mind with fire and brimstone, and I would return his sentiments with a dagger stare and a snide remark. Sometimes I’d tell him I was a lesbian, and other times I would tell him I’m never getting married. Nothing ever phased him. He used to tell me, “If you didn’t tease me, I’d worry that you didn’t love me.”

 

Future housewife in the making? I think not.

My grandfather was right about my teasing him, but so very wrong about the kind of housewife I would become.

I may not be married, but I’ve been playing house with my boyfriend for years. In all reality, I make a terrible housewife. I can cook well, but that’s about as far as my housewife skills take me. I make a wicked mess whenever I create anything remotely delicious in the kitchen, and I genuinely hate cleaning. Maybe it’s because I did so much of it as kid. When I cook, I hope my boyfriend will pick up the slack and clean up after the my culinary tornado sweeps through the kitchen. On the days I don’t cook…I still hope he’ll take charge and clean his own mess.

I’m awful at keeping up with laundry…unless the laundry has been skunked. If I get as far as putting the laundry into the machine, I’m lucky if I remember to switch it over. Then, the really difficult part is removing clean laundry from the dryer and folding or hanging it. That’s the worst! I regularly have enough shirts and pants to get me through several weeks without doing laundry, and before my boyfriend, I used to buy new socks and underwear just so I didn’t have to do laundry. When I was out of clean underwear, I’d go commando, regardless of the season.

Vacuuming is my least favorite chore in the history of ever. There’s something about the heavy rolling machine pulling me with it as it moves. I don’t know why, but it makes me wiggy. As a kid, I would call myself a human vacuum and use my hands to push hair and dust around the floor in the hopes I could get away with not actually using the vacuum. I tried that once as an adult, and then I thanked God there was someone else who would vacuum for me. No one wants rugburn on their palms.

When I clean a room, it takes me hours, because I feel the need to go through every single drawer,  cabinet, and box in an effort to organize my life. I usually give up about halfway through with piles of the emptied drawers and closets getting shoved right back where they came from.

The last time I tried to clean the toilets, I got a raging deep cut, that didn’t healing properly and took weeks for me to recover. Yes, I cut myself cleaning the toilets.

Mopping with Mr. Clean Mop

There is nothing sexier than a man with a mop.

Luckily, my boyfriend doesn’t mind sharing the laundry duties with me. As soon as he learns that girl laundry needs to be hung, we’ll be A-OK. We switch off laundry days and he holds me accountable for my end of the bargain, or we do the laundry together and he still holds me accountable. He vacuums, because he saw how ineffective the human vacuum was, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t want to listen to me whine about my rugburns. I try to clean as many of my culinary messes as possible and have learned to limit the number of pans I use. Our bathrooms now have much less dangerous toilets, so we share that responsibility, as well. I make sure my bathroom is clean, and he’s in charge of his. If I cook, he usually cleans up. Sometimes, though, I don’t feel like cooking. So he’ll order and pick up food or make one of the three things he knows how to cook: soup, frozen pizza, or frozen dinners.

Dining Room floor clean with bona mop

I cleaned this whole room all by myself.

We make a pretty solid team, which is how it’s supposed to be. June Cleaver, eat your heart out. This girl’s ordering pizza tonight.

How are your housewife skills holding up? What chores are you responsible for?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

The Most Interesting Girl in the World

I don’t always eat McDonald’s, but when I do, it’s from September through March. When they have a sweet promotion. Or when I’m hungover.

No, for serious, I am a marketing professional’s wet dream. McDonald’s-which I typically hold great disdain for, most of the time-sucks me in for the better half of the end of September through the middle of March. First, they drag my obsessive love-of-the-game/love-of-the-hunt person in for McDonald’s Monopoly. I find this to be much more successful that Subway’s failure-esque Scrabble (regardless of my passion for letters, words, and particularly, Scrabble).

Check out this old-school Monopoly commercial. Don’t you want a Sears Shopping Spree??

Then, when the joy of Monopoly has ceded, McDonald’s brings back that annual November treat known as the McRib. Don’t judge my McRib love. I realize that it’s a disgusting glob of random pork-like meat covered in BBQ sauce, but shoooot…. get that thing without pickles and you’ve got a meal fit for a grade school cafeteria queen.

Of course, McDonald’s never ceases to amaze me, and while I used to disappear from their radar from December through March, they’ve changed things up on me. After Monopoly, Cletus and I will have to WAIT until Christmas for our tasty meat candy. The McRib will be debuted around the holidays to promote sales.

Then comes that beautifully green and minty Shamrock Shake to bring McD’s back into my good graces. Of course, I swear it tasted better before they changed their shake recipe…but who am I to judge? It’s freakin’ McDonald’s. It’s also important to note, that ordering the SS without whipped cream or the cherry makes it inherently better.

So, you may be asking, why is this important? Obviously, it’s not…but McDonald’s started the Monopoly game bright and early this morning, and let’s just say I wasn’t last in line… For those of you who are curious, 24-hour McDonald’s restaurants begins serving breakfast between 3 and 4 AM.

I don’t always eat McDonald’s, but when I do…it’s for breakfast.

Side note: That sugary looking coffee drink. NOT. WORTH. IT. It tasted like overly sweetened whole chocolate milk with a smidge of coffee goodness. I threw it away and got a real coffee. (After I peeled the Monopoly pieces off).

As an old pro (and the winner of a $50 Shell gift card and essentially, a lifetime supply of free shipping on Snapfish prints), I know the ins and outs of this game.

First, Know Your Prize Foods

Don’t worry, I already did the work for you:

4 Peels-Large Fries
4 Peels-20 Piece Chicken McNuggets
2 Peels-10 Piece Chicken McNuggets
2 Peels-Filet O Fish
2 Peels-Big Mac
2 Peels-Medium McCafe Iced & Blended Drinks
2 Peels-Large McCafe Iced & Blended Drinks
2 Peels-Large Iced Coffee
2 Peels-Medium Drink
2 Peels-Oatmeal
2 Peels-Egg McMuffin or Sausage McMuffin with Egg
2 Peels-Hashbrowns
 

Second, Cheat the System

I had attempted to cheat the system by ordering the iced coffee with no ice. Big mistake. Huge. (Name that movie) The woman didn’t speak a whole lot of English and had no idea what she was doing… She also messed up my

Ordering medium drinks (preferably something you already drink) regularly ensures that you’re not stuffing your face 3-4 times a day with McDonald’s food. Plus it’s just like a dollar or something for the instant gratification of additional game pieces.

Third, Play Online

Use those game codes and get your butt to the McDonald’s Monopoly website and sign up. Enter those codes to get additional prizes. This is where I’ve been named a winner. Just do it. And if you don’t want to do it, mail those damn things to me. The more the merrier. 🙂

If you do play online, enter the code super early in the morning (on a Sunday)…This boosts your chances of winning.

 

Fourth, Send Away for Free Pieces

For the cost of 2 stamps, you can get multiple game pieces. It’s been a few years since I sent away, but I think that it was 2 game pieces or 4 peels from each self-addressed stamped envelope. The only pain in the ass with this is SASE inside of a hand-writted addressed envelope to McDonald’s.

2012 MONOPOLY Game at McDonald’s Game Piece Request
P.O. Box 49121
Strongsville, OH 44149-0121
 

Fifth, If You’re REALLY Feeling Crazy…

You can opt to wander around the exterior of the local McDonald’s parking lot to locate rogue (err discarded) game pieces. When I was in college, I did this with some embarrassing regularity. Now that I’m a grown up, I don’t do this…much.

You can also pitch a fit about there being no-purchase-necessary when you order off the dollar menu, and if you get a really great/annoyed employee, they’ll just throw a few empty cups at you with a disgruntled look. Not that I’ve done that or anything…

So there you have it, folks, my obsession with McDonald’s Monopoly. And of course, with all of my favorite bits of crazy, I’ve taken the liberty of participating in yet another photo shoot. You’re welcome.

The actual odds: 1 in 6.

The odds that they tell you…

 

 

 

 

 

BC=Before Coffee

AD=After Drinking (coffee)

 

Last but not least, I’d like to thank the wonderful crew at McDonalds for spending hours making those Egg McMuffins, without which I might never be tardy.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

A Born Fanatic

Thank God my mother raised me right.

(Preface: If you’re not into Jesus or politics, keep reading–I promise I have a point)
 

I was *NOT* born to be a religious fanatic

My parents instilled a strong belief in God, but more importantly they allowed me to believe (as I did and do) that good people who lead strong, genuine, and caring lives will be rewarded, regardless of their faith. While I believe that there is a God (and a forgiving, loving God, at that), it is not my place to push Him on others. It is not my place to HATE others for believing in something different than what I believe.

As a child, I had heard in various adult conversations that only Catholics shall go to Heaven. But as many children, I questioned in honor of my pals. But what about my friends who aren’t Catholic? I thought to myself, that if they are good people, they will be okay. You know why? BECAUSE GOD LOVES US. /end Jesus talk.

Don’t get upset, Mom, it’s a real bible verse!

I was *NOT* born to be a political fanatic

I have tendencies for both sides of the main court. I suppose that makes me an independent. I was educated by my parents to watch, listen, and learn, but also to see what was going on behind the scenes. Politics is heavily swayed by the media, so it is my duty as a voting citizen to do my own research.

Whether or not someone says one thing, they may very well do another. To be the most informed voter that I can be, and remain as unbiased as I can be, is the only way that I know to do my part. I truly believe that in our current society that I am more often than not voting for the lesser of two evils, and not for the better leader.

 

Anyone? Anyone? *Crickets*

I was, on the other hand, born to be a sports fanatic

When I was a baby, Mom would whisper in my ear, “You love the White Sox. You hate the Cubs.” and the all-important, “You love the Bears. You hate the Packers.”

This picture is the sole reason that I believe it is perfectly acceptable for little girls under the age of 2 to wear sports gear in pink as opposed to in team colors. I asked if this was my brother. Mom told me “no.” Until I pulled the picture out of an album and looked at the back that said, “Christine 1984,” I didn’t quite believe her.

You think I’m making this shit up, but I’m not. At all. I come from a family of sports-crazed chicks. My grandmother (Dad’s mom, one of my namesakes, who I never had the joy of meeting) Regina (Jean) jumped on the White Sox bus with a ball and made every player on the bus sign the ball before she got off. What a spitfire!

My mom, a die-hard, White Sox loving, Bears loving lady, has a list a mile long of her exploits in the sports world. From kissing baseball players to stalking football players, my mom’s done it.

In fact, when I asked her for her wild sports stories, she e-mailed me this (I literally cut and pasted for entertainment value–OK with a few modifications…my mom has little regard for typing quotations and doesn’t quite get the difference between all caps and normal type–sorry Mom! I love you! Really folks, Mom’s got impeccable grammar–she’s defo one of the reasons I’m such a grammar Nazi… it’s just the typing thing):

#54 Tom Hicks Bears…1980…I was working at the phone company, and answered the phone,
“This is Miss Nudd, how can I help you?”
The man on the phone says to me, “Hi Patti, this is Tom Hicks”
I almost died and had to put him on hold and said, “Tom Hicks knows my first name!” He had gone to the same high school as me, and knew my sister; I knew his little brother.
Scott Fletcher White Sox Winning ugly playoff team 1983…Working at phone company again…
“This is Mrs. Woj, how can I help you?”
“I’d like to install a new phone.”
“Ok..what is you name”
“Scott Flectcher”
“Uhmmm Scott, you play baseball?”
“Yea..you a fan?”
“Oh boy! Am I?!…I stayed out all night pregnant* for playoff tickets.”
I then proceeded to install his phone.
 

*For the record, friends, she was preggo with yours truly.

White Sox 1988?…White Sox playing Yankees. Dad and I were waiting after game near the Sox player parking lot…I saw George Steinbrenner (Owner of the Yankees.) About 15 people were standing with us…I yelled
“Mr. Steinbrenner!”
He walked over and talked baseball and signed autographs for 10 minutes..great guy..bad reputation.
 
Derek Jeter: Another Yankee…Great rep…bad guy
Dad and I were on the field after winning a contest with Old Kent Bank. It was Derek Jeter’s birthday.
He walks by I say” Hey Jeter…Happy Birthday”…he gave a me a nasty glare and without a word, walked away.
many more will continue in an hour or so.

Mom never finished, but I figure that’s plenty of tales, considering the list goes on and on and on… so you can see why I feel it is absolutely necessary to continue the tradition of training die-hard sports fans… I give you exhibits A and B: my niece, Princess B, and my godson, Little A.

Baby sports fan in the making. My niece at 2. For all intents and purposes, we’ll call her, Princess B. Note the pink Chucks on her feet.

My only claims to fame (other than the childhood encounters that my parents got us into because they owned a bar-and I have pictures of me with a bunch of White Sox greats whilst wearing a New Kids on the Block tee-shirt) are a couple of slightly embarrassing encounters and one awesome wave. Getting hammered with my pal Marissa behind home base (in Scout Seating), I yelled over to Ozzie Guillen, “Hey Ozzie!” waving frantically in order to grab his attention. Drunk Chrissy was convinced that mom would have done the same thing. Of course, we were losing at the time, and he looked at me, annoyed, and gave a little half wave back.

“Hey Ozzie!!!!!”

Then there was my first Bear. To this date, I have only met one Bear. The newish punter, Adam Podlesh, was at the Chicago Auto Show in February, and I was determined to meet him. Cletus and I had planned a lovely afternoon downtown to check out the zoom zooms and more. Podlesh was at the Toyota display taking pictures and signing autographs. I walked up there with my picture to sign and Cletus with the camera ready…and the only language my brain could muster was a dulled, awkward, starry-eyed “hiiiii.” He looked at me a little funny and asked if I wanted to take a picture first or sign an autograph first. “um…surrrre” I said. Wow, quite the verbal mastermind, I was that day…So we took the picture. It was awesome. Then he asked if he should sign the autograph to someone, I said, “Um to um Chrissy. *awkward pause* Um. That’s me. *awkward smile*” He smiled at me like I was a little goofy, but hopefully endearing… “Thanks, uh duh *grin*” I told him. Then I asked if I could hug him. And he said it was okay. So I hugged a football player. I like to think that I made his day by being a crazed and dazed fan…

But the best time was when I was at training camp in Bourbonnais, and Robbie Gould waved at me. No, seriously, he waved at me. I yelled out, “Hey Robbie!” and I was planning to snap a picture. When I clicked the snap button, I quickly realized that WHAM! I was video taping it!

 

That’s right. Famous.

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

A Bookworm’s Guide to Slackerdom

Mom, you may not want to read this…

Confession Friday: I have a degree in English from an excellent university…but I never once read an entire book for class.

True story.

In the third grade parent-teacher conference, my teacher, Mrs. Jacoby, told my mom that I was lying to her about all of the books that I was reading. Mom knew that I had no life but the one in books, so she got really mad and bitchy. I’m pretty sure that was mom’s last parent-teacher conference. I also think this scarred me for life in regards to school, teachers, and reading books.

I was talking to the Word Worm about blogging–She writes a fantastic bookworm blog–and she mentioned something about Shakespeare (you can read her blog to find out what she said). I, the lover of Shakespeare that I am, told her that I was a fan of reading Shakespeare. I read Romeo and Juliet (which everyone says wasn’t very good, but I loved it) when I was 12. for fun. At home. I’ve read Much Ado About Nothing SEVERAL times. I did attempt to read Twelfth Night several times to no avail, but other than that, I’m kind of a fan. Hamlet, MacBeth, even Julius Caesar…all enjoyable reads for me.

She then questioned my tactics in college…and asked if I ever read a full book for school. In all honesty… not counting a graphic novel called Maus… no. No, I did not.  I had read bits and pieces. Excerpts. Listening to class discussion (when I showed up for class). Talking to my classmates. Sparknotes. Cliffsnotes. Gradesaver.com. Classic Notes. Classic Reader. And when in doubt, I Googled it. And it worked. I never got lower than a B in my English classes. (OK, and to be fair, there were some books and stories that I had already read.) My mad-writing skills got me exactly what I needed: A decent grade and plenty of time to do other things.

As an English major, required literature was something Chrissy considered...optional. She managed to pull off a splendid GPA considering she didn't read one entire book for class.

College and Computers 🙂

I was a very organized slacker…I had a notebook for every class. Each notebook was filled with excellent doodles (as doodling would help my brain calm down so that I could actively listen). Each notebook had a very important front cover. The cover listed the number of excused absences that I was allowed in that particular class, a dated list of missed classes, and the excuses that I used to not go to class. I made sure that I didn’t overuse cramps or migraines (though those pesky headaches happened regularly). There was even a time that I thought I was having a panic attack…that turned out to be the results of a little too much booze the night before…

That being said, you all know that I’m a voracious reader. And if you don’t, you should see my gratuitous post discussing my ridiculous unwavering love for Pride & Prejudice. The obsession is almost disgusting. But whatever. I read. I do. I just don’t read when someone tells me that I must. I saved every book from all of my classes, college and high school (sans Childhood’s End, which, until Fifty Shades of Grey, was my least favorite book in the history of ever.) Then, I spent summers, and even free time during school, reading. Yes, that’s right. I’ve read a good portion of the novels that I should have read for class…long after class ended.

Here’s a list of the best books I never read in college:

Candide (even though I walked into class after reading the Sparknotes version and told the prof that I had, in fact read it and loved it. After actually reading it–it’s pretty awesome)
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (which ironically became my favorite American novel)
Tess of the D’urbervilles (which is really super depressing, but well written and uber Victorian… Stupid 50 Shades of Grey for ruining the association.)
The Canterbury Tales (In my defense, the teacher tried to make us read it in middle English. Do you have any concept of how hard that is?!)

OK, and here’s a list of some of the best books I read in college for no reason but to read:

The Stand
The Lord of the Rings Trilogy
Les Miserable
Great Expectations (Actually a reprise from my youth…thanks to those marvelous Great Illustrated Classics)
The Tenth Kingdom (A book based off a cheesy TV mini series on NBC. If you watched it and like it—I think I love you.)

Have a great weekend!

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

The Great Disney Character Hunt: A Photo/Video Post

Don’t believe me about the kickline? Video proof:

Brian was a really good sport as I chased my favorite characters around the four Disney parks. He was equally great about the pin-hunting, but that’s another story for another time.

Close, but no cigar! They were walkin’ away as I was chasing them.

Princess Aurora Sleeping Beauty

You saw my first pic with Aurora. Here, Katie and I do a “fun pose” with the Sleeping Beauty. She then ensured that my dream prince was taking proper care to protect us from dragons. How could Brian possibly think that was creepy!?

Miss Poppins so graciously ensured that our posture was completely proper, after a long conversation about laughter and penguins and chalk drawings.

Miss Poppins so graciously ensured that our posture was completely proper, after a long conversation about laughter and penguins and chalk drawings.

I ran right into Alice and turned to follow her, calling out, "Alice! Alice!" Until she answered me. She made me chase her to the other side of England, where she told me that her sister only allowed her to take pictures in certain places.

I ran right into Alice and turned to follow her, calling out, “Alice! Alice!” Until she answered me. She made me chase her to the other side of England, where she told me that her sister only allowed her to take pictures in certain places.

She also said we were twinsies like the Tweedles because my white skirt matched her apron. 🙂 We talked about the Cheshire Cat for a bit, since I love him oh-so-much… Man, I wish there were a Chesh wandering around EPCOT… Alice is Katie’s favorite…Chesh is mine. Well, one of mine.

 

Aladdin and I had a really great conversation…He flirted for a bit, then we talked about Abu, Jasmine, and Genie. I told him that he was my favorite, and he told me that I was his favorite. I don’t feel bad that he probably told other little girls that they were his favorite, because, well…I said the same thing to Eeyore, Aurora, and Maleficent…

I missed my picture with her by just one person in line…but she was still there. And I still told her she was the best villain ever…and I hunted for Maleficent pins all over Disney World. I have 5. 🙂

Supercalefragilistic Breakfast with the Hatter

Chip has the black nose, like a chocolate chip. Look, ma! I learned something!

 

 

 

 

Brian had fun with Baloo!

 

He really scared Tink!

 

 

There were a bazillion more, but I think you’re probably bored to tears by now. I may have just as well brought out an old projector screen and made you sit through a slide show of “Our First Big Vacation.” Although, that could be fun…you know, presuming there was alcohol involved. And snacks. Everyone loves snacks.

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

A Series of Unfortunate Events…Err…Just One, But It’s a Doozy

For those of you who don’t know, I spent a beautiful week in the happiest place on Earth. Walt Disney and I go way back (My first Disney magic, my love of Mousercise, and a grown-up trip to Disney World). Of course, I have a ridiculously long list of Disney memories; those are just a few of them. Tomorrow, I’ll tell you a little bit about our fantastic and magical trip to Disney, but today…Today I’d like to tell you about our pre-Disney “misfortune.”

Our plan was to leave last Wednesday afternoon for Florida. We were ridic busy up until our departure (Brian was working LATE nights to make up for his upcoming absence from the tech-y world, I’ve been trying to find us a place to live, prepare for my new job–that I’m starting TODAY, and a million other little details.) So I told him that he needed to get together what he wanted to bring, and I would pack it.

My OCD tendencies are pretty heavy in the packing department. I hate when the luggage is top heavy and falls down. I roll everything meticulously. I also feel the need to write everything that I pack on a list (this is different than my packing checklist), so that I know what is where and more importantly what would/could be missing upon our arrival.

So on Sunday night around midnight, after a very long day, Brian got all of his clothes together for me. Monday came, and my plan was to pack everything as Tuesday was going to be a circus day of running around. So, one of my besties, Lily, stopped over to help (OK, she stopped over to go shopping with me but whatever. That’s what friends are for).

So upon our return from a shopping extravaganza, Lily watched me pack. Well, she watched about 2 hours of it before she left for her man of the moment. 2 hours later, I figured it was time for a break. Yes, I take a long time to properly pack things in just the right places. Don’t hate. I got up to work on a blog post and perhaps enjoy a quick meal. I had previously texted Brian “Don’t forget to eat!” but I was on the verge of forgetting to eat.

15 minutes into a blog post, I heard my roommate yell, “Dexter! No! No, no, no, nonononono.”

At this point, I knew something bad had happened, as I heard Anna shooing the pup back outside. “I think D got sprayed by a skunk.” My brain processes much faster than anything else…my thought process was something as follows:

Oh God. Oh God. What should I do? Remember the last time this happened? You smelled like skunk for a week. Your car smelled like skunk. Your clothes. Everything. Disney. The luggage! Oh God. Oh God. What do I do? Ummm…Do I leave? Do I stay? Oh God. Oh God. I can’t stay. Our clothes! Everything is going to smell like skunk. I need to go. Shit! Shit! Shit!

So I did what any girl would do…I circled the house, offered what assistance I could, and panicked. Then…I mopped the floor. I’m not entirely sure what I thought this might accomplish, but it helped my piece of mind. The stench was so unbelievably overpowering, I cannot begin to describe it to you. But I’ll try.

If you’ve ever smelled fresh garlic, or better yet, chopped fresh garlic, you’ll be able to get an idea. Imagine the smell of fresh cut garlic on your fingers: a strong, potent, stinging smell. Now imagine that you are walking through a HUGE heavy cloud of that smell. Then, multiply it by 5. That’s what we were dealing with here.

After the attempted floor wash, I decided I needed to get the hell out of dodge…I likely had some laundry to do. Let’s not even talk about how I had just completed 5 loads of laundry so we didn’t come home to a full hamper. So after ensuring that Anna and her incredibly helpful mom, who knew skunk de-smelling tricks, were okay, I threw my shit in the bags and loaded up the car.

I’m not going to lie, I felt like the world’s biggest asshole, leaving Anna and Little D all by themselves to handle the stench. Brian was meeting me at the train by my parents’ house, so I went and picked him up. He got in the car and could smell the skunk. I knew I had carried it with me. So, we got to my parents’ and my mom smelled it immediately. I really thought she was going to kill me. She was surprisingly wonderful about the whole thing–this might be because we left everything outside overnight and by morning the stench had dissipated from the air. Of course, our clothes and luggage were still pretty stinky.

After washing 2 suitcases full of clothes about 7 times, two bottles of Febreeze, a container of Clorax wipes, and a box of dryer sheets, our clothes almost smelled normal, if not a little over fragrant. The luggage still had hints of skunk, so I packed our clothes inside of garbage bags and filled it with dryer sheets.

I was basically running on a total of 9 hours of sleep between 2 days because of the laundry and the folding and the rolling and the obsessive packing…

As we were packing the bags up, I commented that they still smelled a little skunky and my dad looked at me, point blank and said: They’re going to think all that skunk is actually weed. They’re going to confiscate your luggage.

We were able to leave for and make it to the airport on time, and my pink princess luggage was still usable:

The traveling pink princess

As we were getting off the plane, and I saw out the window that my suitcase, which I had just purchased for this trip, was sitting out in the Orlando rain…all. by. itself. I freaked out a little bit….questioned the flight attendants, questioned the guy outside the plane…Apparently when you send your luggage through Disney’s Magical Express, they let it sit there until someone comes by to pick it up. Never. Again. I’m too OCD to let my luggage go without me. I learned my lesson.

Yep, that’s my bag, right there…Somewhere along the line, they also lost my sweet Yelp luggage tag 🙁

 

It started raining just after this picture was taken.

Sure enough, once I started unpacking the suitcase, I discovered that the assmonkeys at TSA searched through my bag (Come on, skunk smell, dryer sheets, and a garbage bag screams “our dog got skunked, give us a break!” right?) Guess what? All that hard work I spent packing? Down the toilet before it even hit the plane… My suitcase was a mess.

Have you ever had a problem RIGHT before leaving on a trip? What is your packing routine (if any)? Have you have been skunked?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Like a Kid in a Candy Store…

Except I’m a grown up…
In Disney World…

With no children to speak of. (Except for some of the really adorable non-crying ones that we’ve encountered so far. But they are not ours…and they did not come with us. They’re just really damn cute.)

What’s really funny, though, is that Brian will comment on how cool it is to see a kid just standing in line with a wicked smile on his or her face…and then he’ll look at me and realize that I, too, have that wicked “We’re in freakin’ Disney World” smile on my face.

So yesterday was our first day at the parks. We met up with the lovely Penny and her hubs for much of the day. Can I just say, it’s WAY more fun to meet characters than I remember from over a decade ago. Maybe it’s because I’m older and truly appreciate the awesomeness that is interacting with a fantastic actor who looks, sounds, and gestures as their Disney animated counterpart…

As such, this post is all about the characters. I truly felt like a kid in a candy store the minute we hit EPCOT. Holy hell! Talk about princess central. Thank you, World Showcase for making yesterday truly magical.

I thought I’d start with a few pictures from a decade ago when I was visiting Disney just a few short weeks before I started college. Not terribly creative, nor did I even realize how much fun you could have with the characters, I wasn’t as brilliant as I would have liked to be. (PS: Check out that awesome “radar dome” known as my bangs.)

Whichever Tweedle decided to dance with me, I was excited. It was super fun, and I wish that all of my character pictures were more like this.

 

With Princess Aurora. Several things: 1. blue dress=disappointment for the pink princess that is ME. 2. How boring is my pose? I should have rocked out with the Sleeping Beauty pose, rather than stand there with a shit-eating grin on my face.

 

1. Pink Princess Aurora. 2. Better posing job on my part. 3. Aurora called Brian my “dream prince” and made sure that he was protecting Penny and I from the dragons. 4. Brian thought she was creepy. 5. Chrissy for the win!

Hmmm, It appears that Aurora has had some work done since my last visit. More pictures to come, but I’m late. I’m late for a very important date. A breakfast date with the Mad Hatter.

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

Gratuitous Cat Pictures

As promised in last week’s blog post: gratuitous cat pictures for your amusement.

Your welcome.

We’re really mean to our animals, aren’t we?

 

Sheba Ball

 

I’m cooler than you.

 

I’m going to cheer camp, whether you like it or not.

I want to be outside. Please make this happen.

“I’m a Beanie Baby. Really.”

Sleeping in my packed college laundry basket

 

On the chaise lounge beside the laundry

 

Cat in a box (Sheba obviously wanted to come to college with me)

 

Buck and Sheba:
“What’s up, Dog?”
“Nothing, Cat.”
“Carry on.”

 

 

 

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!