Thursday, February 26, 2009

Apropos of Nothing

I came across this quote today and it made me laugh.
"It's like I always tell my sister: Sometimes slutty is good, because boys are dumb."

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Powers Effect

I don't know what it is about going on vacation with mr. blume and manricor, but I can drink more alcohol and be less drunk than at any other time in my life. Two years ago, we went to Vegas and I had more to drink in those four days than ever before (or since) in my life. Yet, not really ever drunk. 

In San Antonio, (as pictured below) manricor and I split three 30 oz margaritas at dinner. 

Go ahead. Do the math. I'll wait. 

Then! We went to the Howl at the Moon piano bar and drank 4? 5? more drinks. Yet, still not drunk. Were we drive a car sober? No. Did we both publicly sing along with many, many, many songs at the piano bar (including Ice, Ice Baby)? Yes. But, we were able to walk home on our own power and weren't hungover the next day. I call that a win.  

To put this in perspective, I'm usually well on my way to being drunk after one beer. One beer. 
This phenomena only happens when (1) on vacation (2) with mr. blume and manricor. I'm calling it the "Powers Effect."

Monday, February 23, 2009


On a scale of 1 - 10, how blasphemous do you think it would be to flick someone with holy water?

I ask because when we were at the mission at San Jose, I flicked mr. blume with holy water. 

I wanted to see if he would sizzle or burn, like in the movies, in case he's secretly a vampire or other assorted demon spawn. Turns out, no.
Either movies lie/exaggerate, or mr. blume's just a dude. Not sure which. 

I crossed myself with the holy water left on my fingers after flicking him, do you think that cancels out the blasphemy?

On second thought, maybe it wasn't blasphemous. Maybe I just baptized him. 

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Bone Tired Drunk

We're back home again from San Antonio today and I am bone tired. 
There's a point at which being tired and being drunk feels pretty much the same. That is where I'm at now. 

The husband kept trying to tell jokes on the way home. 
I found it very confusing. 
Finally, I just looked at him and said, "Are you telling jokes again? Why do you keep trying to be funny? You know I don't understand what the fuck you're saying."

Short, uncomplicated sentences are all I'm really capable of understanding at the moment, when spoken anyway. 

Sleep good.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Iron Man

When I was running at the gym today, Iron Man came up on my play list. It reminded me of a conversation I had over New Years with T-Rex (son of mr. blume and manricor).
He told me a kid at his school sits at his desk, does a mini-head bang and sings to himself, "I am Iron Man, dun-na-nuh-nuh-na-na-na-nah"

I'll tell you what I told him. 
That kid is rock-star awesome!

If you're going to be the weird kid who sings to himself, fucking sing Iron Man. Own it. Make it your anthem. 

I want to be more like this kid. Let's face it, I might already be the weird kid. I might as well start singing Iron Man. 

Tuesday, February 17, 2009


I've been working like crazy lately, and all has not been sunshine and giggles.
People, equipment, time lines and poor decision making has been making me all kinds of crazy... even more than usual.

As some of you know, I test software for a living. So, I was testing to make sure we could print out images correctly today and this was one of the images I used:

I have no idea why, but it makes me want to laugh every time I look at it.

So, as it turns out, the difference between a day where I want to maim everyone that comes in a 5 ft radius of me and a day when I don't, is a bunny eating a cookie.

Seriously though, it's kind of adorable, right?
Just me?
I'm okay with that.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Wicked Awesome

The husband arranged for us to have a weekend away for Valentines Day all by himself, it was quite impressive really. 

He got us a hotel in Appleton for the night, reservations at the Lemon Grass, an Asian bistro, and tickets to see Wicked. The hotel was clean and quiet. The restaurant was delicious (crab wontons and spring rolls, yum!). The show was excellent, and we had really good seats. Kudos to the husband.

And in return? He got a card. 
Hey, there was even a monkey joke in it! Eh. 
I tried, a little.

The first time we saw Wicked was in Chicago with the blumes. The husband says that the two shows were very similar, but I would have sworn that they were different. There were whole scenes and songs I don't remember from Chicago. Then again, Chicago was about two weeks after I had a car accident that addled my brains a bit, so a lot of stuff from that time period is kind of hazy. 

The only hitch was that the husband had a hard time falling asleep at the hotel, so he was all the sudden chatty until around 3AM. There are a lot of things you can tell your husband when he's arranged a romantic getaway for Valentine's Day, "shut up and go to sleep" is not one of them. So, of course, the next day the husband was kind of sleepy and Milo is always up for a nap. 

Aren't they cute?

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

You Know It's Bad When

Things have been kind of crazy at work lately. They dropped a last minute project on our laps, in addition to our regular workload all due next Thursday. Boo.

The Saint is my counterpart in this crazy mess. She is one of the nicest people I have ever known and very quiet. She usually cajoles the developers into doing what she wants with a sweet little smile. 

So, this dude emailed me a question he should have known the answer to. In general, I'm all for people asking questions and I'm not one to judge people for not knowing something if they have an interest in learning. However, this dude teaches other people how to use the specific part of the software that the Saint and I work on. He should have known the answer. 

I showed the Saint the email without saying anything about it. (Note: We often sanity check one another before responding to other people)

Her response? 
"I can't believe he sent you this. Jackass."

I don't know if you had to be there and know the Saint to know how fucking awesome that is. I've never heard her curse before. It totally made my day.

Maybe I should be worried. I might be rubbing off on the Saint.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Giving Up Control

I read an article in In Style magazine about a woman who gave up control of her wardrobe for one week to her husband. For that week, he got to choose all her outfits from some Lord and Taylor collection , I think. She thought he'd fail horribly at picking clothes for her, but actually she ended up really liking a lot of the looks he chose for her.

It was a really interesting article. I was fascinated and uncomfortable, all at the same time. I like being in control. I don't feel like I have to be in control of everything all the time, but I do have to be in control of myself. As such, I cannot imagine handing over the reins of my life for a whole week to someone else, even if it's over something as superficial as my wardrobe to someone as "trusted" as my husband. 

How about you? Would you let your significant other choose your wardrobe for an entire week? If you did, what do you think they would want you to wear?

I seriously doubt I would ever be able to do this. I think it would make me crazy. However, if I ever did go insane and allow the husband to dress me I would probably end up with 7 days of tight jeans.  

Friday, February 6, 2009

Baby Girl

Today is my little sister's birthday... happy birthday, sissy.

My relationship with my sister has always been special. We have been to hell and back together. She is my best friend. She is the bane of my existence. Over time, our relationship has expanded and contracted. There have been times, when I thought it would collapse all together, but it never does. The thread that holds us together, the tie that binds, is unbreakable.

We are very different people, but somehow the same. I always say that we are opposite sides of the same coin. We're made of the same stuff, but our outlooks are radically different. In spite of all the difference, I have always loved her. Unconditionally. Not the fake "movies" kind either, the kind the is real, quiet and comes at great sacrifice. I cannot remember a time without her. I cannot imagine my life without her.

For better or worse, she has had a greater impact on my life and who I have become than anyone else I know.

A note for my sister:
You are beauty.
You are light.
I hope someday you are able to see all the good things in yourself that I see in you.
You are one of the funniest people I know. Especially in the quiet times, when it's just you and me and no else is around to question our warped sense of humor.
It is unfortunate, that eventually, we always drive each other crazy. We might fight like cats and dogs occasionally, but I always have your back. I'm looking out for you and would move heaven and earth to make things okay for you. It's what big sisters do.
It's been so exciting to watch you over the last year as you have so much enthusiasm for the direction your life has taken. I'm so proud of you.

I love you.
Happy Birthday, baby girl.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Cell Phone

My cell phone is kind of annoying. Why is the delete button for my voicemail "7", when it's "3" on my home phone and work phone.

Since it changes, I can never remember which button to press and I have to listen to the damn menu every time.

Is it any wonder that I hate listening to voicemail?
They're called usability standards people. Use them!

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Flirty Girl

I'm watching a commercial for Flirty Girl Fitness. It kind of makes me want to vomit. 

But, what? What's that you say? If I order now, I can get a bonus copy of "Booty Beat"?
Well that's just irresistible. 

What does it mean?

There are several people at my gym, most of them teenage boys, who wear shirts that say "TC is my Homeboy" on the back. 

What the hell does it mean?
I've tried googling it and I got nothing.

Is it some sort of acronym? Is it really obvious and I'm just missing it?

I would be much happier if I could figure out what it means without having to ask one of them, because that sounds awkward. On the other hand, I really just want to know what it means already. 

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Minor Food Meltdown

In a few weeks, I'm going to San Antonio to warm my bones. It won't be warm, warm, but it might be about 40 degrees warmer than here, which sounds like a little bit of heaven. 

It's kind of like going home for me. I'm not from San Antonio, but I am from Texas. I haven't been back to Dallas since my grandmother's funeral two years ago. I didn't think about this trip like "I'm going home" when we planned it, for two reasons. One, Texas isn't really home anymore. Two, San Antonio isn't that close to Dallas, so it's not like I'm going someplace I've been a hundred times before.


Then, mr. blume and the husband started talking about food today. Did we want reservations anywhere before we go... that sort of thing. I mentioned that I wanted to get some bar-b-que and tex-mex when we're down there, since although you can find those restaurants up north, they are generally crap when compared to the real thing. 

That got me thinking. 

There's also southern food. Real southern food, the kind nobody eats up north. Places where the serve fried okra and chicken fried steak. 

AND there's Luby's, a cafeteria style restaurant, but it's not your high school's cafeteria. The home of a beautiful mac and cheese, mouth watering rolls and my favorite kind of pie. 

AND there's Cajun food. It's more Louisiana than Texas, but you can still find some pretty good stuff in Tejas. 

AND, well can you see my problem? We're only going to really be there for two days. I can't fit all the fabulous food of my childhood into two days. Not even close. Plus, I'm not looking to gain 10 lbs on this trip, so I'll have to pick and choose carefully. 

I'm excited at the possibilities and a little sad that I know that there just isn't time for everything. Until then, all this talking about food makes me hungry, so I'm going to go find something to eat. 

Monday, February 2, 2009

Drama, drama, drama

Work has been a high drama place as of late. 

To make a long story short, there is a girl who has gotten involved with a project I am working on. She has come into a project she knows nothing about and feels as though she has the right to tell me and my Counterpart what to do (she doesn't). She is uncommunicative about information we need to do our jobs and gets defensive and angry every time we have asked her to be better about sharing information. 

The first time I asked her to please let us know information we need, she ran to her boss and then the two of them went to my boss (when my boss was the Hammer) without saying a word to me. I'll admit that this created some ill will towards this girl, even though the Hammer completely backed me up. 

As a catty side note, this girl once wore a sweatshirt tucked in to her jeans. *mean girl snicker*
Ha. Whatever.

Anyway, she just keeps causing problems and now other people are getting involved. People who I would not want working against me and thankfully are supportive of me and my Counterpart. 

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate drama? Hate, hate, hate it. Hate. it.
It puts me off my game and makes me feel all stressed out. I don't want to deal with this kind of shit.

I want her to act like a grown-up. I want her to realize that we work in a collaborative atmosphere, not a hierarchical structured one, so she is not in charge of me. We don't have to be friends. We don't even have to like each other. We just have to work together. 

Grow the fuck up and get out of my space. Then, I could go back to forgetting she even existed. Ahhh... just the idea of it is a little bit of heaven.