Oh Grate! (a pun, not misspelling of the word "great." you'll get it if you read on.)

A few weeks ago, I went into this new store called Shoe Carnival figuring it sounded fun (Carnival!) and full of shoes (Shoe!); it's fun, and full of shoes, it's SHOE CARNIVAL!

Notsomuch. It scared me. It scared me quite a lot. I couldn't get three feet into the store before a "helpful" salesperson obnoxiously yelled to me, "HI! WELCOME TO SHOE CARNIVAL! WHAT CAN I HELP YOU FIND?"

Taken aback, I sort of said I didn't know, but if I did, I'd be sure to have them help me.

Rounding a set of shelves, I ran into another salesperson. "HI! WELCOME TO SHOE CARNIVAL! WHAT CAN I HELP YOU FIND?" I replied, "Yeah, still doing okay. I'll let you know though if I'm not..."

Frightened, I went to the boot section and tried on a few pairs. The prices were decent, and though the quality of shoe was mostly crap, I was pretty impressed by the cute styles. And if you're going to waste money on poorly-constructed, trendy footwear, it might as well be cheap, poorly-constructed, trendy footwear.

Now, remember this place was called Shoe Carnival? Every five minutes, an employee would get over the loud speaker, "WEEEEEEEEEELCOME TO SHOE CARNIVAL! THIS IS A REMINDER YOU HAVE JUST FIIIIIIIIVE MINUTES TO GET YOUR BUY ONE PAIR GET ONE PAIR HALF-OFF DEEEEEEEEAL. BUT FIRST! LET'S SPIN THE DEAL WHEEL!" Deal wheel?

"HI! ARE YOU STILL FINDING EVERYTHING AT SHOE CARNIVAL?!?" came up behind me, scaring me like the voice belonged to those two freaky twins in The Shining.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHH! YES! I'M JUST LOOKING!!!" Shoe Carnival was loud. Shoe Carnival was scary. Shoe Carnival was a giant clown, ready to hold my hands behind my back and bite my throat with its long, pointy teeth.

Hurrying toward the discount racks in the back of the store, I found two pairs of totally uncomfortable, fairly cute, completely cheap shoes for $6 each. Several more loudspeaker announcements and $12 plus tax later, I left Shoe Carnival, screaming into the night.

Why do I talk about this? I got one of the shoes stuck in a grate outside my apartment tonight. I don't know how, but the heel got so tightly wedged down into the grate that I couldn't pull it out. I literally had to unbuckle the shoe off my foot and leave it while I took all the stuff I was carrying inside.

Half barefoot.

In the snow.

I finally got the shoe out of the grate, but not before taking a picture. Good thing the burgundy patent-leather Mary Jane was cheap, because I'm certainly not going back to freaky Shoe Carnival to replace it.

Loose furniture

We saw this sign outside a furniture store at lunch today, and I'm left wondering exactly what is Hooker Furniture:




Does this furniture turn tricks? Have slip covers which are too short for daylight hours? Does it have clear, lucite legs that light up when pressure is applied?

It is 40% off, however, making it cheap Hooker furniture.

Owned!

Tonight I made my final car payment. Ever. While it's taken many many years to pay it off, it's finally done. And since I paid for a major overhaul on it a couple of months ago, I'm hoping to get a few more years with it-- without a car payment.

I celebrated tonight by going to the gym and then grabbing a bottle of wine for a celebratory glass of vino when I got home. While driving home, the SLCPD decided to run a red light and nearly take out my newly-paid-for vehicle. Now, I understand the benefit of a classic "approach without lights and sirens" call, but should they be approaching without lights and sirens to the detriment of everyone else on the road?

Much less those who thirty seconds earlier just threw their last vehicle payment into the post office?

And because I saw him speed for at least 15 blocks northbound on 900 east after, I figure that I was just lucky to get out without major damage.

Best of...

I think I'm pretty damn funny. I hope you do too. Many current readers might not realize that I started this blog in February 2005 as a supplement to stuff I talked about on the Morning Zoo on 97.1 ZHT. So as a four-year anniversary to "Beyond the Air: Radio Free Holly," I present to you my favorite thoughts, quotes and chunks found throughout the years.

From June 23, 2005:
"Yes, nothing says 'Happy Birthday' quite like a bunch of burning tampons!! This is a quick-fix that would make MacGyver proud. Now, if only they could build a bomb out of Tampax and hand lotion!!"

From August 1, 2005:
"I wore some cute, cotton Aberbcrombie pants last summer to a remote, and it was hot, and any sweat looks like a little bit of pee. In fact, I believe our remote tech accused me of peeing but I am grown up enough, as is Fergie, to know when to use the bathroom."

From February 10, 2006:
"During the Viennese Waltz performance, the dress got twisted, my nipple popped out and got caught over the left side of the dress, and my partner twirled me around for all to see."

From August 31, 2006:
"You can't see it very well, but it's true, there is a place called 'Jo Jo's Munch House' on State Street in Salt Lake City."

From September 12, 2006:
"Jeff from the O2 Oxygen Spa in Salt Lake came in tonight and juiced us up. I chose 'Serenity,' a combination of lavendar and I believe eucalyptus. I feel mellow. I also would like a pizza, a bag of Doritos and maybe a Slim Jim..."

From September 26, 2006:
"I would rather stick a hot letter opener into my nasal cavity than ever run for public office, which is good since my job is technically a conflict of interest."

From November 11 2006:
"True to form of being the most graceful klutz I know, I lit my hand on fire and proceeded to drop the flaming stuff onto my favorite Hello Kitty blanket. Remember in the 70s how acrylic bedding was a fire hazard? Apparently it’s still a fire hazard in the year 2006. In a flash, I threw open the patio door and tossed Burning Kitty outside and like a drunk idiot jumped on it—all while wearing slippers."

From February 13, 2007:
"Don’t marry a guy that has Satan Worshippers as friends. They will just inevitably want you to birth the new Anti-Christ."

From March 15, 2007:
"Whenever a designer is booted off the show, head judge dsigner Jonathan Adler tells them, 'See you later, decorator!' And with a little wave and wiggle of his fingers, the contestant is bid adieu."

From July 31, 2007:
"Today, Michelangelo Antonioni went to the big sound stage in the sky. He was an amazing director who made 'Blow Up,' one of my favorite films. I was first turned onto this movie by someone for whom I will have an eternal soft-spot, so I'm wondering if I love the movie because it reminds me of him, or if it's really a brilliant film."

From September 5, 2007:
"If you are dating someone and that someone happens to die, do not keep their old bras out on your shed workbench. It will make the person you might later date question your affection for them, and that will be the start of a slow spiral down the proverbial relationship toilet."

From September 30, 2007:
"Instead of throwing away the whole mess, plate and all, I decided to try and break apart the upper part of the chip-wad and eat it. After a couple of bites, I realized that not only does fat-free "cheese" turn into titanium when put on chips and microwaved, but it also tastes like shit."

From October 29, 2007:
"I thought, 'Is this my test? Now am I supposed to dig a key out of a guy's colon to get out of here?' To no avail, I had to sit there and endure the stinging sensation while I watched a small Asian woman with a razor blade scrape foot-heel skin off an 80-year-old lady. It was sensory overload."

From November 11, 2007:
"I saw some guy's junk. Right there, three ab benches away from me. Some random guy's junk, just out there for the world to gaze upon. It was bad enough that his shorts were shorter than something out of Studio 54 circa 1978, but as he was doing his ab crunches, his legs were bent and splayed open like a sweaty crab."

From December 9, 2007:


From January 10, 2008:
"Midway through brushing my teeth I noticed that the buckwheat husk was filling my apartment with a delightful organic and slightly lawn-ish scent. By the time I finished brushing my teeth, I thought, 'Wow, the buckwheat husk. It smells like burn... shit!' I ran downstairs and saw that the buckwheat husk had ignited in the microwave and though the filler itself 'WILL NOT BURN!' the material covering the outside most certainly 'WILL FREAKING BECOME TINDER!'"

From January 31, 2008:
You've got to read it in its entirety to do it justice.

From February 15, 2008:
"On the morning of Valentine's Day I left him a 12-pack of Miller High Life for a gift because I had no idea what to get him. That night, he punched me in his sleep because he thought I was either 1) a stranger 2) an intruder or 3) the Vietcong. I was too tired to drive home so I slept in the guest room. On Valentine's Day. Alone."

From April 6, 2008 (Live Blogging Rock of Love finale):
"7:05- I felt bad for Daisy until a shot of her walking revealed her thong underwear sticking out of her jeans."

From April 10, 2008:
"Having thrown up at the gym several times in my life (there was this one time when I thought that drinking a 32-ounce chai before running on the treadmill was a good idea. There was also that one fake bacon incident...), I didn't think anything of it, until I passed out at the grocery store."

From June 6, 2008:
"There I stood, marinading in 'Regular,' mad that not only did I stink, but seeing all that gas pooling on the pavement was like flushing a wad of twenties down the toilet."

From July 23, 2008:
"Last night, I had a dream that the guy I'm dating buried me in a hole with a large Starbuck's latte and a Hickory Farms Yard O'Beef like you would get at a mall kiosk during the holidays."

Crap! Got to run and go to dance now, stay posted for more of my favorite quotes.

Commercially Smitten...

Remember about a year ago when I professed my undying love for the New Gorton's Fisherman? In fact, looking back, my New Gorton's Fisherman crush was exactly a year ago this month. While his yellow slicker-clad hotness will always hold a special place in my television viewing heart, I have a new commercial crush for this year.

The Free Credit Report dot Com guy.

You know the guy I'm talking about: In one commercial he's dressed as a pirate, in another he's driving his friends around in his P.O.S. car and in the latest installment, he's wearing tights at a Renaissance fair. He has a curly mop top, and despite his slightly jacked-up grill, the Free Credit Report dot Com guy is extremely appealing.

But who is the guy behind the Free Credit Report dot Com guy? After some research, it turns out the Free Credit Report dot Com guy's real name is Eric Violette, a French-Canadian import who, despite being a musician, neither plays his guitar nor sings in any of these commercials. After learning who he really is, I feel hurt and dismayed and I now question the credibility of freecreditreport.com.

Maybe I don't trust my relationship thus far with the Free Credit Report dot Com guy. How can I know that he's telling me the truth, that he really cares about my credit? What about my needs? I've got to end it with the Free Credit Report dot Com guy before my heart breaks even more, I love him and I wish the best for him, but I just can't see myself with someone who proclaims to be such a (literally) Renaissance man while fake strumming in a puffy pirate shirt. For what it may be worth, i will always care about him immensely and i want nothing but the best for him.

Well, now that I'm not in that relationship anymore, anybody know what Kevin Rose is up to?

I give in...

I've been tagged by 30% of the world's population to do the "Facebook 25 things you don't know about me," so here it goes:

25 Things You Likely Don't Know About Me...

1.) Despite the fact that most people think of me as the “crazy redhead,” I am naturally blonde. I started dying my hair bright red my sophomore year of high school and didn’t stop until last year.

2.) I am scared someone is going to break into my house in the middle of the night and kill me in my sleep.

3.) I hate my food to touch.

4.) Staying on the food theme, I hate tomatoes and spicy meat. I hate them together and I hate them separately.

5.) With that thought, I hate Mexican food.

6.) I’ve never eaten a Big Mac or a Whopper.

7.) I miss my daddy more than anything else in the world, every day, and it never goes away.

8.) Despite my cynicism about relationships, I believe there is someone out there for me.

9.) I love the ocean and somehow always feel whole when I’m on the beach. The best cappuccino I ever had was on the beach in San Diego.

10.) Vampires are sexy, always have been, and from 1994 to 1996, I truly believed I was one.

11.) I don’t like it when my worlds collide.

12.) People always joke that I’m a drama queen; when I’m eerily calm about a situation, it’s very serious.

13.) I will only eat a hotdog at a baseball game. I love baseball. I love baseball players. I love the Red Sox. (Was that four things rolled into one?)

14.) My mother drives me crazy, but I love her more than she’ll ever know, or more than I’ll ever actually say to her.

15.) I know all the lines to Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Real Genius and MST3K: The Movie.

16.) I started dance classes before I was three, have never quit and will never, ever stop.

17.) I hate it when I’m not “the best.” Whatever that means...

18.) I used to be really good at math, until about ninth grade when my brain somehow switched to “artsy.”

19.) I really love my friends and probably don’t tell them that enough or show enough gratitude.

20.) There are some people I still wish would’ve worked out. There are other bullets I'm sure glad I dodged.

21.) I don’t do potluck. Multiple peoples’ concoctions sitting out on a table at a holiday gathering make me gag.

22.) I love music by Enigma, however, can’t listen to the chanting alone at night because it freaks me out too much.

23.) I call slick brown dogs “poop dogs.” (Think: Santa’s Little Helper)

24.) I’m too sentimental and to cover it up I make jokes. I very much miss those I knew in the past.

25.) I still feel like I’m a little kid... but with technology, a bank account and bottles of wine.

A few things...

Just a few weekend reflections for tonight before I actually get to sleep before 10:30...

1.) Watching the Super Bowl becomes infinitely better when slugging back a couple of beer floats. This was achieved by combining a nice oatmeal stout microbrew with a few scoops of Breyer's French Vanilla ice cream.

2.) After a weekend of "feel-good" chick flicks like Mamma Mia! and Under the Tuscan Sun, one should not proceed with watching p.s. I love you. However, after watching these three films I now want to save up for a vacation to either Ireland, Italy or the island of Santorini.

3.) There is such a thing as "too much" America's Next Top Model.

4.) Few things in life are more frightening than reading an article like this: Mother gives birth to two sets of twins-- while on the pill.

Comedy Gold...

Since I work in media, I can truly appreciate a good article and a good headline writer. The Salt Lake Tribune hit comedy gold with this today, and I had to re-post. You can either read it below, or follow the link here.

You can also Digg the story here and while you're at it, put in a good word for me with Kevin Rose.

Restroom requiem: 'It was a good toilet' gunned down in line of 'doody'
Centerville hamburger joint offers commode consolation

By Kathy Stephenson
The Salt Lake Tribune

What should you do when your toilet dies in the line of "doody"? Have a funeral, of course.

On Friday at 10 a.m., the Carl's Jr. restaurant in Centerville will have a "moment of silence" for the potty that was destroyed last week when a patron's handgun fell out of the holster and fired as he was hitching up his pants.

The bullet shattered the toilet and sent sharp shards into the man's arm. The 26-year-old, who had a concealed-weapons permit, was treated at the scene for minor injuries.

But the "john" was destroyed, and the national hamburger chain is feeling the loss. "By all accounts, it was a good toilet; reliable and well liked by customers and crew members alike," wrote Brad Haley, executive vice president
blasted commode
The late, well-liked and oft-visited deceased. (Tribune file photo)
of Carl's Jr. marketing, in a tongue-in-cheek note posted on the company's Facebook page.

"It seems only fitting to have a formal service to let everyone say goodbye to such a critical member of our team that was in very close contact with the public each and every day," Haley eulogized. "Our thoughts go out to the surviving men's room urinal and porcelain sink. We only hope that the new toilet can fill the void left by its predecessor, but so far it hasn't made much of a splash."

The outpouring from the community has been overwhelming, said Carl's Jr. manager Christian Martinez. "We have received e-mails and cards from all over the country expressing condolences for our loss," he said. "People will have the chance to say
goodbye in their own way at the memorial service."

Employees at the restaurant, 385 N. 800 West, will hand out bottles of Kaboom® Bowl Blaster toilet cleaner to the first 50 funeral attendees, he said, as "it was the toilet's favorite."

Asian Priority

I had to run an errand for work today and ended up driving past a place I saw yesterday which confused me quite a lot. In Salt Lake City, there exists a new Chinese restaurant called "Asian Priority." I wondered why the restaurant was called this, and as we celebrate the new Year of the Ox this week, I am concerned that I am the ignorant one. Maybe the restaurant name was lost in translation.

I have never made $4.95 Chinese Breakfast "a priority." For that matter, I have never made getting Chinese food "a priority." Except for on Christmas night when I was drunk and nothing else sounded good and it was snowing outside. That is the only time I've made it "a priority." One time, I had a "pressing situation" after eating Chinese food, but the "priority" didn't involve food going into my body.

When I Googled "Asian Priority," I found that debt markets "should be the 'Asian priority,'" (Bloomberg News) not "Tasty Delights of Three." I clicked on the link, and read a little about the future state of exportation, but my eyes glazed over and I had to check out Hello Kitty Hell instead. (Hey, Hello Kitty is Asian!) I also found various sites for "naked Asian priority," "sex Asian priority" and "massage school Asian priority," but I did not click these links.

Don't believe me?
I sacrificed my life taking this. I also apparently sacrifice my life not being able to properly see out of the driver's side window. Winter window-washing is clearly not "my priority."



Explain this to me!

Back, to the Future

I think I came up with the title because my boss and I both, unbeknownst to each other, used the term, "What, should I just jump in my Delorean and go back in time and change that?" within, literally, 15 minutes today. Then tonight, I went back in time.

Tonight, I auditioned for a play, the first audition I've done in two years. I have sort of felt like Austin Powers when he lost his mojo (what, two movie references in two paragraphs?) but for some reason felt like I've been... re-mojonating? Still, it was tough. I've gone through a lot since I was last on stage, and I'm not sure how that fits into my life now. I went back to a place that used to be my entire life, and tonight it felt a little bit foreign. I was like the Ghost of Christmas Past wondering how I can go back when I've tried so hard to move forward?

Whatever. I also ripped a towel in half today and that was a little bit disturbing too. I was drying off my itchy back, with much force when I realized just how itchy it was. I was pulling, tugging, delighting in the itch relief I was getting from the towel, my savior. When... RIIIIIIP! TWO towels. One in each hand.

Either my back was really itchy or I am okay with cheap-ass towels. I thought the towel was Ralph Lauren. Now I apparently have two Ralph Lauren washcloths.

Reminisce...

It was four months ago yesterday when I last saw him, and tonight I can't shake it. Some days, it's easy to go on. Other days, it's impalpable. I could go crazy, but then I stop and ask, "What would Aretha do?"

I never loved a man (the way I loved you)
By: Aretha Franklin

You're a no good heart breaker
You're a liar and you're a cheat
And I don't know why
I let you do these things to me
My friends keep telling me
That you ain't no good
But oh, but they don't know
That I'd leave you if I could

I guess I'm uptight
And I'm stuck like glue
'Cause I ain't never
I ain't never, I ain't never, no, no (loved a man)
(The way that I, I love you)

Some time ago I thought
You had run out of fools
But I was so wrong
You got one that you'll never lose
The way you treat me is a shame
How could you hurt me so bad
Baby, you know that I'm the best thing
That you ever had

Kiss me once again
Don'cha never, never say that we're through
Cause I ain't never
Never, Never, no, no (loved a man)
(The way that I, I love you)

I can't sleep at night
And I can't eat a bite
I guess I'll never be free
Since you got, your hooks, in me

Whoa, oh, oh
Yeah! Yeah!
I ain't never loved a man
I ain't never loved a man, baby
Ain't never had a man that hurt me so bad

No
Well this is what I'm gonna do about it...

Gearing up

It's that time of year when I come off the Christmas/New Year's depression, into the inversion/cold weather melancholy, spiraling toward the Valentine's Day batshitcrazy. Maybe it's because I've spent day two sick on the couch watching a Bravo reality show marathon (yesterday was the Real Housewives of the OC, today was Top Chef), but I'm not feeling extremely optimistic.

I have learned that next year I will not get a flu shot if I'm just going to get sick anyway. But I digress...

Next month, we'll give in to yet another commercialized holiday by purchasing stuff meant for professing our love. I'm talking Valentine's Day, one of the lamest days of the year. I would prefer to tell loved ones that I feel strongly for them regardless of the time of year. Simply, just because it's Valentine's Day, doesn't mean that's the only time of year we should tell people we love them.

Still, what better way to say it than with a Conversation Heart? From this brief history of Conversation Hearts on candyfavorites.com, these candies started off as peppermint lozenges wrapped in printed foil and then eventually came to be the heart-shaped staple that we know and love. I feel the candy hearts are a little behind the times, so I have come up with some of my own Conversation Hearts for this century, courtesy of the ACME Heart Maker:

First off, here's a simple turn of phrase for the person who tells you they love you and then bails:


Next, this heart is for the gift that keeps on giving:


This heart is to show appreciation for the well-developed, by whichever means they become so impressive:


Finally, I couldn't resist making this heart for an SNL "Sean Connery" to give to "Alex Trebek":


This heart generator provided me with hours of fun as I tried out different combinations of phrases. Though you're only allotted two lines of four letters each, you can still come up with clever sayings. For instance, you could say that someone with a three-letter first name S-U-X. Or, you could put aside all the Valentine's Day cynicism and profess your affection for Kevin Rose:

A Pox on my House

Literally, there is a pox on my house. I woke up sick this morning and after a stint at the doctor, it's possible I have chicken pox. As an adult. Maybe I'm like Benjamin Button and I'm reverting back to kindergarten, which means I will have to take a stop at highschooltown, and my dating life will complete the proverbial swirl down the can.

While passing the time today, in between naps and inauguration, I ran across this post of fancy toys courtesy of the folks over at Neatorama. While I do love the paranormal and supernatural, I most certainly have a warm spot in my heart for the cryptids out there in the universe. Chupacabra, yeti and Pope Lick Monster, to be precise. I am further fascinated by the Sci-Fi Channel's show Sci-Fi Investigates. In a past life as a radio co-host, I was fortunate to interview Loren Coleman, the country's foremost cryptozoologist, who once spoke about local cryptids around the Bear Lake area in Northern Utah.

Giant. Beavers. "Beavers as big as Volkswagons," I remember Coleman telling us, thrilled to enlighten the masses. And so I find myself passing up the previously mentioned cryptid toys because they do not include the giant beaver. However, I do know of some folks who might just pass as a Yeti from time to time.

Nice beaver:

From a post at Cryptomundo referencing our big, bucktoothed buddies.

Illustration...

Because I'm sick and don't feel like typing:

Out with the old...

Without turning this blog into yet another political rag, W's final address tonight got me thinking about our country and the optimism I am starting to feel with the prospect of a new leader of the free world. I also got thinking about the Bush administration finally vacating the White House, and wondering if the prospect of their soon to become "ex-girlfriend" status is leaving the Bushies a little bitter. Sure, we've already seen the current administration's little jab by not letting the new first family move into the Blair House two weeks early, but will it go beyond that?

Come to find out, most vacating administrations leave their former offices and living spaces completely trashed. Allegedly Clinton's administration all but stuffed chicken bouillon cubes into the incoming President's shower head, turning to high school pranks by cutting phone lines, gluing drawers shut and rendering door locks unusable. Hell, forget the chicken bouillon cubes, it sounds like they did everything but leave a hearty upper-decker.

And now, apparently Bush's folks have done the same thing. Vacating their offices, it seems they have already done some damage. Why do people have to trash their former living spaces? Isn't it good enough just to leave? Why stop to short-sheet the bed or fill a blocked-off doorframe with packing peanuts?

Maybe I'm relating to this since my former neighbors finally vacated the other half of my duplex just a few weeks ago, and they left the place such mess I am shocked I don't have a hazmat incident over on my side. I got home today and was able to see a bit of the work the maintenance guys have ahead of them, and the guys who lived there completely trashed the place. It is going to cost so much money to gut it that firebombing might be a better option. Maybe I'm still just a little bitter that one of them died inside the apartment leaving me to deal with any creepy residual paranormal activity that might prevail.

So, my plea for tonight is this: do a good deed in 2009 and leave wherever you go in the same, if not better, state in which you found it.

That goes for you too, Lame Duck.

p.s. Many of you might be scratching your heads right now, asking yourselves, "Chicken bouillon cubes?" Yes. It's one of my favorite pranks to pull on someone. You squash the cubes into the shower head and then screw it back on. When the unsuspecting showerer gets in and turns on the water, they are bathed in chicken soup.

I believe beef cubes work too, but aren't as effective.

p.s.s. Many of you might be scratching your heads right now, asking yourselves, "Upper-decker?" I'll let you research that one on your own, but probably not while you're at work. From what I've read, it could be considered extremely offensive to upper-deck one's dead grandmother's casket.

Sort of Dickensian

After being haunted today by ghosts of relationships past, two hauntings within six hours by people I still care about, I decided to head to the gym tonight for a good, old-fashioned treadmill-fest.

What actually transpired was that I ended up for beers at the bar next to the gym.

In my workout clothes.

And as I allowed myself a two Guinness maximum, while pondering life, the universe and everything, I marveled that I could at least see the gym from the bar where I was sitting. Swilling the heavenly, dark beer like it was going out of style.

I also marveled that when watching ESPN without sound, commercials take on a very different meaning. The "Axe Sensitive" shave cream commercial, to be specific. In this commercial, sporty-clothing-clad women are spraying each other with foam. Is there anything more blatantly sexual than sporty-clothing-clad women spraying each other with foam? And how does this relate to the common chore of men shaving? The women giggle, the women spray their foam, and then the commercial ends. I dare say that men I know would not stop to shave if they were faced with an arena of sporty-clothing-clad women shooting foam.

I turned my attention to a silent ending of the Rachel Maddow Show, and then the beginning of Hardball, where Chris Matthews was reviewing the making of Barak Obama's 500-pound inauguration Chicago cheesecake. Between the spraying foam, creamy cheesecake and sizable Guinness head, I continued to be confused by the days' events, and had to get out of my sportsbra.

I don't think I'll wear a sportsbra to the bar ever again.

Happy Inbox

Things like this in my inbox make me happy for carried-over vacation time:

"This has grown tiresome..."

I loved Mike Meyers on SNL whenever he would play Dieter the host of Sprockets, an East German television show. I loved that they used a sped-up version of Kraftwerk's "Electric Cafe" as the theme song. I loved that John Malkovich was a regular "guest" on the show. I loved that they asked us to "touch their monkey." Mostly, I loved that whenever they were going to end the show, Dieter would announce, "This has grown tiresome. Now is the time on Sprockets when we dance!" and black-clad beatnickesque dancers would fill the screen and Vogue. To Kraftwerk.

Admittedly, I've always had an active imagination: Sometimes on the way to work I pretend that I am in a play called "Work" where I am just one of a cast of colorful characters. Sometimes I get all dressed up, even when going to the grocery store, because I'm convinced that a scout from MTV will walk up to me in the Doritos aisle and insist I move to New York to be a VJ. (which is even more imaginative since MTV doesn't even play videos during waking hours anymore.) And sometimes when things in my life grow tiresome, I am on East German television and dancing and somehow it seems to make it all better.

But there are some things that grow so tiresome that dancing around in a black turtleneck and leggings simply won't make it better. I will now share for you the list of the top five things that have grown tiresome for me:

5.) I have grown tiresome of concerts with one guy and a guitar on the stage. I'm a little over John Mayer and is giant orange-on-a-toothpick cranium. I'm tired of Jason Mraz who I do not feel is "The Remedy" for anything. And even though Crosby Loggins (Kenny Loggins' son) is so very very cute (though not as cute as Kevin Rose), he sounds like the rest of them. I've even seen a few lately live, Matt Nathanson, Marc Broussard, and each one of them is as cookie cutter as the last. It makes me long even longlier for Devotchka later this month.

4.) I have grown tiresome of police officers in Utah who get convicted of sexual assault. In the last little while it seems this has been in the news quite a bit, including the Ogden officer who was previously a "hero" in helping out during the Trolley Square Mall shooting spree a couple of years ago. Then just today, a Murray Utah police officer was put on the other side of the cell when he was allegedly similarly stupid. I grow tiresome of this because I just want them to "Protect and Serve" and not "Protect, Serve and then when you're feeling safe, grope your titties."

3.) I have grown tiresome of shows on MTV. I didn't watch The Hills last season. I hate The City this season. I have no interest in Bromance in any season. Daddy's Girls is right out.

2.) Coming up with five things that have truly grown tiresome... Guess I'm gong to stop now. Guess things really aren't that irritating after all.

Kevin Rose, I will never grow tired of watching Diggnation.

Love Bus Lowlights

Just when the Rock of Love franchise couldn't get worse, the producers at VH1 decide that putting a bunch of slammy, drunk bitches on a tour bus is a good idea. And God love 'em for it! Last week, we learned that there are some things too much even for Bret Michaels (I won't say where one of the lovely ladies stuck a shot glass) and this week, I'm giddy as the stripapalooza heads to Indiana.

For the first challenge, the hos write wedding vows for a fake walk down the aisle with Bret, and then present him with a gift. I didn't find it at all surprising that none of the girls chose a white wedding dress. What I did find surprising was that the gift that Bret seemed to appreciate most was a freshly-removed vaginal piercing.

The group proceeds to drink heavily and play a friendly game of "Who is smarter than a rock star?" which is a little like the blind leading the blind. Very few questions get answered.

The three girls who won the wedding challenge go on a hayride and lunch with Bret. Two wear extremely short skirts, which can not be comfortable when sitting on bouncy hay. The date was pretty uneventful, however impressive that none of them seemed to itch.

Finally, the rest of the episode sucked, and at this point nobody is worthy of my support-- yet. Next week one of the girls allegedly gets their implant popped.

Here are some key lines from this week's episode of Rock of Love Bus:
"I'm from Utah and there are Polygamists and Mormons and guys who marry, like, 10 girls... so bring it on, I'm used to this."

"If ever a tear falls from your perfect face, I will kiss it away..."

"I wrote these vows like if we were already in love..."

"I promise to cook you the best, rockin' food... and not ever wear panties."

"Getting a plaster mold of someone's torso is a little creepy."

"My mom loves me, and my family loves me and I WANNA' GO HOME!" (sob, sob, sob)

Plastic for Plastic

What to get for the expressionless this Valentine's Day:



Just so that Kevin Rose knows, I naturally look younger than I am, so I don't need botox like some women feel they do. One day, it might all catch up and surpass me so that it looks like my nasal labial folds belong on a basset hound. Until then, I'm hot. I also get bonus points for using "nasal labial folds" in context and not giggling.

I'm Baaaack!

In the immortal words of little Carol Ann in Poltergeist, "I'm back!" Okay, I paraphrased that. She says, "They're back!" but that would imply that I have more than one of me, split personalities if you will. Peanut gallery, insert your jokes now.

I had a rough holiday season, I became a bit anti-social, but in the end, I decided to show some love to my blog. For a little while there, I had no desire to write on this since there are so many people out there who think they're funny and amazing writers, who actually end up contributing very little to the blogosphere. I am going to regularly write on here because I figure it might just motivate me to finally finish my book I've been trying to finish for years now. Maybe one day I'll finish it. Maybe one day I'll publish it. Maybe one day I'll print it out on toilet paper, have a party and invite guests to rub the sheets on their "no-no zones."

And I have another goal in 2009:
Get Kevin Rose from Digg to go for drinks with me.

Tonight, while sitting in a focus group with some fantastic women associated with UtahMama, (and no, my recent blog disappearance is not hint that I suddenly became a mama. I was there representing my work, if you must know) I professed my crush on Kevin Rose and was encouraged to pursue that. I figure it makes me teeter on the ledge of stalker, but if you can't be a stalker on the Web, where can you be a stalker? Seriously?

So no, every post won't be on my unrequited lust for Kevin Rose, but I will certainly track my progress. If any progress is made.

And I might occasionally even be marginally funny. Oh, and I'll post more pictures. For Kevin.

For the first random picture of the year, this is a screenshot of someone who lives near me:

Considering somebody died a couple of months ago in the other side of my duplex, I'm slightly concerned I might have a late-night brain seeking visitor. So sit back, relax and enjoy my regularly updated new outlook on blogging. It's bursting with fruit flavor.

Will he come back?

"Will he come back?" was the subject line of this interesting email I got today.

Some people get junk email about increasing the size of their manhood. Some people get junk email encouraging them to do their holiday shopping with various online retailers. I get junk email from astrologers seeking to help me with my love life.

When I first saw this in my inbox, I thought, "How did they know? Of course they know! They're astrologers!" but then I thought that since it did come into my inbox in the form of "potential junk email" I quickly threw out the fact this came from the stars to my computer. Also, if they really hope to help me with my love life, this astrology special certainly needs more than the three free promotional minutes, and in this time of a tough economy, I just don't know that I can take the change on the additional $1.99 per minute afterward.

Additionally, if I'm the one who has to determine if this email is junk or not, are there really any psychic powers swirling around in the universe? Just how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? Am I wearing pants? So many questions.

Skinny Fat Girl Snacks

I'm the queen of the 100-calorie packs. I stash them everywhere, in my purse, in my desk at work. I figure even if I slam three 100-calorie packs into my pie hole, then that's at least only 300 calories. And I feel like I've eaten a lot.

Now, through sheer brilliance, Hostess is releasing Twinkies in 100-calorie packs. From the AP, "Hostess Twinkies are becoming the latest product remade and repackaged into 100-calorie snack packs, a product some analysts say could do well given that more people are packing their own lunches in the slumping economy." It makes me think there might be a baby Jesus.

So, I'm wondering now, if you were to deep-fry a 100-calorie pack of Twinkies, would that be better for you?
And for the record, the top five 100-calorie packs in my life are 1) Hostess carrot cake 2) Grasshopper cookies 3) Strawberry n' Yogurt Chex Mix 4) Hostess carrot cake and probably 5) Hostess carrot cake.

For more Twinkie news, check out the current article at cnn.com. And no, this isn't my finest post but I'm busy this week.

Three cheers for color-sponsored diseases!

I don’t want to sound insensitive and all, especially since I haven’t graced my blog with my presence in over a month, but I am a little over all of the Think Pink for Breast Cancer stuff that’s become the latest trend. I know that might come as a shock to those who have been to my apartment and have seen the overabundance of pink stuff I have collected over the years, but that was before everything was pink. Finding pink stuff used to be a challenge and when something was found in a nifty pink, it was like finding a rosy little treasure.

I’m not here to bash on cancer awareness, believe me, especially not this month. However, after watching yet another pink boob cancer merchandise report on E! News tonight, I felt it was time to get out of my funk and do one of the things I do well, offer unbiased opinions on random topics using razor-sharp humor topped with colored, melancholy sprinkles.

Ah bloggy blog, how I’ve missed you so. I shall never lead you astray again.

So! Pink stuff for cancer awareness! I’m thrilled that the proceeds from these items go toward research and such, but why should we single out merely the breasts? Why not make a line of white kitsch for bone cancer research? How about a line of brown stuff for colon cancer awareness? Now, I realize that the phrase “line of brown stuff for colon cancer awareness” might be a bit crass for my classier readers (my sister-in-law), but I cracked myself up while writing it, especially on a subject that is so scary and claims the lives of good people every year. Cancer will claim an estimated 565,650 deaths in 2008, to be exact, and though that number is falling, it doesn’t bring back those who lost the battle.

Colon cancer awareness month should be in October, when the leaves are changing color and everything is brown and autumnesque anyway. Why not procure UPS as a sponsor? What can brown do for you? Make you aware of your colon, that’s what. Hell, throw in a UPS guy, a few Chocodiles and an early Zune and you’ve got the makings for a fantastic colon cancer awareness celebration. In fact, why not set up mobile colon screenings in the back of a UPS truck, then end the session with a Chocodile and a kiss (Hershey’s, of course), encouraging a probe for all. I can tell my marketing mind is racing now.

According to a February 2008 article in Science Daily, colorectal cancer incidence rates decreased from 1998 through 2004 in both males and in females, so I guess if you were diagnosed after 2004, you’re pretty much hosed. Bet you would have gotten checked out if you had your limited edition Ugg-sponsored colon cancer awareness boots! You wouldn’t be so hosed then, now would you?

I jest because this is all serious stuff, and my point is that we should be aware of all of it, regardless of pink, brown or polka-dot sponsored toaster ovens. We should continue raising awareness until there is a cure for any kind of cancer, because until that happens, we will continue to be affected— whether it happens to us or those we love. Take care of yourselves, get checked by a doctor, work out, eat as best as you can... I hear your pooper will thank you for it.

And, for the record, I will continue to buy pink stuff, regardless of what it signifies. Once girly, always girly.

Wait for it...

Soon, lambs, soon. It's coming. The new redesign and new thrilling adventures of my blog. I realize it's been on hiatus, but since this week marks the beginning of many new television shows, thus marks the beginning of new bloggish-type things.

"Breaking Dawn"

Yep, I jumped on the bandwagon this weekend and bought the last book in Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. I went with some friends for the midnight release of Breaking Dawn this past Friday, and after learning I needed to pre-order said book in order to get a decent place in line, ended up leaving and buying it on Saturday morning anyway.

The sight for a Friday night at Barnes and Noble was outstanding: 3,000 screaming teenage girls all clad in prom attire just hoping for the touch of the book in their clammy little hands. If not for the half-bottle of wine I drank prior to the adventure, I don't know that I would have been able to handle it.

I'm about midway through the book right now, and as near as I can tell, it's just okay. I'm more into the vampire thing than the werewolf thing, and there's quite a bit of the werewolf thing going on to this point. That's all I'm going to say until I finish the whole book, as well as give everyone else a chance to finish the book. I don't want to spoil anyone's fun.

You can't really tell from this photo, but here's part of the outdoor gathering just before they let out the indoor crowd about 11:55 pm:

Chilling.

And here's an article from the Associated Press this morning:
(AP) NEW YORK — Harry Potter is still king, but the final book of Stephenie Meyer's "Twilight" series did manage a million-selling debut.

"Breaking Dawn," the fourth of Meyer's sensational teen vampire series, sold 1.3 million copies in the first 24 hours after its midnight, Aug. 2 release. Publisher Little, Brown Books for Young Readers announced Monday that it has gone back for 500,000 more copies, making the total print run 3.7 million.

The numbers for "Breaking Dawn" are comparable to the openings of a pair of famous memoirs: former President Clinton's "My Life" and Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton's "Living History." But they don't approach the unveiling of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." The seventh and final volume of J.K. Rowling's fantasy series sold 8.3 million copies in its first 24 hours in the United States alone.

Role Reversal...

I seem to always have interesting experiences when I'm at the gym. After logging four miles in 20 minutes on the elliptical trainer this evening (feeling aggro during the day apparently equals a giant sweat-fest for a workout at night), I noticed this guy getting on a machine next to me who had a crazy little rat tail just like Keith's on Project Runway. I didn't think much of it other than, "hmmm, that guy has a crazy little rat tail just like Keith's on Project Runway.... and a shoulder tattoo just like Keith's... and glasses... waaaait a minute..."

I ran as Keith ran, and as I finished up my workout, I contemplated shouting, "I HATED YOUR DRESS LAST NIGHT!" You know the one that Michael Kors said looked like it was made of toilet paper caught in a windstorm? But there's nothing worse than being recognized when you're a giant sweaty mess, unless of course, you're a giant sweaty mess yourself. When to my surprise a guy walked up to Keith and, from what I could gather, started professing that he was a huge fan.

I chuckled a bit as I left the elliptical to finish with a run on the treadmill, but for what it's worth, even though Keith's hanky dress was a miss he does have pretty nice ass.

Strange...

Here is one of the best newspaper headlines I've read in a long time:
Teen needs 300 stitches after knife and battle-ax attack

Where exactly does one get a functioning Medieval battle-ax, and once they get one, what would compel them to hit someone with one? The article finally draws the conclusion that the detectives ended up catching the culprit because his car's Insane Clown Posse bumper sticker matched the Insane Clown Posse necklace found at the scene of the crime. Does listening to ICP really lead to violent craziness? And just who is the police detective that honed such fine Nancy Drew skills to put two and two "Juggalo" clues together?

These are all questions I have this afternoon.

A sternly worded letter...

Update 08/05/08:
The exceptionally nice general manager of the Cheesecake Factory called me last night to discuss my letter. Not only do I appreciate him taking the time out to address what I wrote, I also appreciate his sincerity. While this experience wasn't the greatest, I do like how he took the letter seriously and has committed to working with his staff of these issues. Who says the pen isn't mightier than the sword?

I seem to be writing a lot of these lately. Last one was earlier this month to Einstein Bagels who all but wiped their butt with my turkey sandwich that took 30 minutes to make. Needless to say, if anyone ever needs a sternly worded letter written, please submit your request for my writing in writing.

Dear Cheesecake Factory,
We were extremely excited to try this location, as everyone in our work department had only been to the Las Vegas Cheesecake Factory location. We left work with the anticipation of a great dining experience for a working lunch meeting, yet all five of us were horrified at what ensued. Upon arrival, we had no problem accepting the 35 minute wait for a table, however after being seated and promptly ordering (we had plenty of wait time to decide on what we wanted to eat), we were surprisingly forced to endure another 40 minute wait for our appetizer. It was only when we reminded our server that we had ordered edamame (not a tough dish to prepare and/or serve) as an appetizer she finally brought that out. We never received our salads we ordered with our lunch entrees, though we did get the side servings of dressing that sat out on the table for nearly an hour, and instead got our lunches (term used loosely because of the shoddy quality of the food and cold temperatures). Finally, we were served the salads as dessert, though couldn’t eat the dressings because of the congealed skin that had formed in nearly two hours since we first got it. Then, imagine our disappointment when we noticed that parties much larger than ours were finished with their lunches and vacating their tables as the bussers were hurredly resetting those places for new, unwitting diners. Because we were already three hours into this lunch, we didn't feel we had two more hours to spend on bringing up our dissatisfaction with our server and therefore went to the manager to help us out. We were told, "You should have said something sooner" and were promptly dismissed, again punished for simply trying to enjoy a nice lunch. For a place with a monumental reputation such as Cheesecake Factory, I should think I wouldn't have to even let you know we had these issues. I understand the position the recipient of this complaint letter is in, as I am the person at my company who answers customer complaints, but I could not sit idly by and allow this experience, kind of service and product slide past you. I speak for our entire group when I say we will never spend money at the Cheesecake Factory again in this lifetime and I will be sure to let anyone else know this opinion if they are considering patronizing your establishment. It is shameful to experience this kind of lunch with a restaurant with name recognition like the Cheesecake Factory, and quite honestly the hours spent at this Utah location should have been spent driving the 400 miles south to your restaurant in Las Vegas.

Thank you for your time,
Holly

Saw It!

I've seen quite a few live shows in my day, but this was by far the best stand-up ever! I have loved Eddie for years now, and finally got a chance to see him at the Palms in Vegas this past Friday. He was even more brilliant than in Dress to Kill, if at all possible, and his show went for over two hours. I had killer seats in the third row, so I could watch his dreamy blue eyes up-close for the entire time.

Deeper Meaning?

Last night, I had a dream that the guy I'm dating buried me in a hole with a large Starbuck's latte and a Hickory Farms Yard O'Beef like you would get at a mall kiosk during the holidays.

Disturbed even this morning, I'm mad at him for doing this.

In order to find some kind of deeper meaning in this interesting dream, I consulted an online dream dictionary. This will surely help me sort things out! If it's on the internets, it's accurate, right?

Here are some of the main themes of last night's dream and their meanings from an onine dream dictionary:
Coffee- Stimulation. Sometimes over-excitement. A need to slow down.
Hole- Escape. Search. Denial. Looking for an answer or hidden from it.
Cow (since it was the closest thing I could find to Hickory Farms holiday Yard O' Beef from a mall kiosk)- Docile and productive. Great prosperity in all ventures but watch out your own affairs carefully. Cows promise abundant fulfillment of hopes and desires.

I don't know how accurate this online dream dictionary really is. According to this analysis, I am trying to escape from the over-stimulation of a Yard O' Beef that will bring me all my wildest dreams and desires. I find it disheartening that I don't eat meat, yet this dream shows I will be eternally stuck in a hole with the Yard O' Beef. Is this a metaphor for men in general or perhaps a gentle reminder to start my Christmas shopping to avoid holiday stress?

Maybe I just need a better dream dictionary?

First "Sweating to the Oldies..."

Now it's Cardioke! I saw an infomercial for this while I was working out the other night and I nearly peed my stretchy pants. I get the whole concept that it's a great workout to sing and dance together, and we all know the rigors that high-energy singer/dancers like Madonna or Justin Timberlake go through to be able to do what they do on stage. But they get paid to sing. Part of their job is to sing and dance... together. We are disappointed if they are not smoking hot. They're not old lady neighbor, Betty, trying to belt out the lyrics to "Unwritten." The last time I heard a rendition of "Unwritten" that horrifying, I had lapsed into a vodka-induced coma while watching episodes of The Hills.

I had no idea that Billy Blanks (a.k.a. "Mr. Tai-Bo") had a son, and I wonder if Cardioke really is the "latest craze" or if he's trying to capitalize on all those family fitness dollars.

In case you'd like to start doing the Cardioke, here is the very same stretchy pants-wetting promo I saw with my very own eyes:


In other news, Gev left So You Think You Can Dance last night, which I wholeheartedly believe is one of the most undeserved exits in the show's four season history. His solo was amazing, he was the best all-around performer on the show, and I will miss seeing his cute face every Wednesday night. On the upshot, he'll be back to Utah and at dance rehearsals soon, I'm sure. Also, I'll have my Wednesday night freed up for Project Runway.

Gev still rocking!

Last night, Gev had to change partners and ended up with fellow Utahn Chelsey. He's fantastic, such a good friend and it's great seeing him just kick some major ass on So You Think You Can Dance.

Check it out:




Nigel will forever have some kind of weird bias against Gev, it seems. It's like if he says anything complimentary, he has to negate it with some kind of backward, pithy slam. And the part about him not holding his own during the Jive was completely untrue, Gev is in it to win it and each week continues to prove why he will remain on the show for quite some time!

Things not to do while driving...

I've seen people reading magazines while driving, and there certainly is no shortage of people text messaging while behind the wheel. For some reason this morning, this guy's usage of a very large electric toothbrush made me laugh:

My Political Good Deed

I don't like to make this blog too political, however, my friends Jon and Jaime down at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, UT have alerted me to this worthy cause. I'm thinking of getting a little adopted kitty (If I can get over the thought of becoming a single, cat lady. First step, get a cat. Second step, regrow the hymen) and I will definitely get a shelter animal if I do! If you're a blogger, please copy this information onto your blog to spread the word as much as we can!

From Adopt a dog on Facebook:
"If Sen. Barack Obama becomes president, he’ll instantly be faced with decisions that will affect millions of Americans. Obama will also soon be making a decision that could affect millions of American dogs. It has been reported that once the election is over, win or lose, the Obamas will be looking for a new four-legged family member (much to his daughters’ delight).

We, the members of this group, urge the Obama family to rescue a homeless dog. Whether they choose to adopt a purebred or a mutt, this action would undoubtedly cause a ripple effect to the benefit of all homeless animals. In a country where millions of dogs are killed each year in shelters, purchasing from a breeder or pet store is not an ethical choice. Taking a stand by choosing to save a life would set an example of the highest standard."

Click here for the Facebook page.
Click here to sign the petition.
Click here for the website

...and I can't get up...

For the second year in a row, a Miss USA has turfed it during the Miss Universe pageant. Maybe because I seem to fall off things so often (generally at the gym), but I love watching people fall down. If they're not hurt, I like to watch the recovery process. With that, I bring you some of my favorite famous biffs.

Miss Universe pageant this year (Crystie Stewart, Miss USA 2008)


Miss Universe pageant last year (Rachel Smith, Miss USA 2007)


And from 2006, the Grape Stomp will go down in history as my favorite fall... ever!

They're Day-Glo!

There are few things more relaxing than getting a fresh pedicure. In fact, I rank a pedicure just somewhere between a fairly explicit mid-day Daniel Craig fantasy and finding a hot pair of True Religion jeans marked down. But yesterday's pedicure experience left me a bit off-kilter, though with fabulous toes.

I went to the gym for quite some time yesterday and decided my toes needed a little TLC. I located a cheapie "Open on Sunday in Utah" pedicure place and got seated even without an appointment. Soon after I sat down and stuck my feet in the foot bath, this fairly harsh woman and her daughter rushed in and demanded immediate attention. The daughter sat down next to me, and as the pedicure girl began belt-sanding her callouses, she sort of stops and says to the girl, "You have toe fungus."

"I DO?!?" the girl gasped in shock.

I shot the girl a disgusted "You're such a dirty pirate-leper" look.

The pedicure girl confirmed, "Toe. Fungus."

The daughter didn't really say much, but just sat there and let pedicure girl continue (after pedicure girl located some plastic gloves), then when the daughter's rude mother insisted they sit together, she changed chairs.

"That lady said I have toe fungus, mom," said the daughter as she put on her paper flip flops and waddled down the row of chairs. "TOE FUNGUS!!"

The rude mother replied, "That's ridiculous. You're not dirty."

Meanwhile, another customer came in and was seated in dirty toe fungus daughter's original chair. Now, waaaait a minute! Dirty toe fungus daughter changes chairs, and though they put new water in her original foot bath, I didn't ever see anybody use any bleach and/or disinfectant.

Though my new toes are so bright I will be able to dress like a ninja and jog barefoot at night without getting hit by a car, I have to wonder if I need to be more concerned with the cleanliness of establishments I frequent.

Fall off, and get back on?

I've written before about my little gym mishaps, but the other night actually left me with a bit of an injury. Simply put, I fell off the treadmill.

Apparently when you use an armband holder for your iPod, you're supposed to put the device in UPSIDE-DOWN so you can read the display and so the scroll wheel isn't backward for you. I failed to do this, and thought I would live with it for just one workout.

About 15 minutes into my run on the treadmill, I became restless with my music selection and began fiddling with the improperly stowed iPod. I must have been listing to the side because my foot got caught on the side of the moving belt and it wasn't until I was sort of flailing off the side and then down the whole length of the treadmill onto the floor that I saw my life flash in front of my eyes.

I picked myself back up, and ran even faster as if to say, "See? I'm still INCREDIBLY athletic!" but appalled that nobody rushed to my rescue; not even to ask if I was okay. Still, maybe it is karma that if I would've seen me, I would've laughed uncontrollably too.

Spumoni = Holy Trinity?

From the Deseret News today, an ice cream shop customer allegedly found Jesus staring back from some Spumoni. My favorite quote from the photo, "We weren't sure if we should scoop... him." So the Holy Trinity is chocolate, pistachio and strawberry?

My question: if Jesus were going to appear to us, why does he continually choose to appear in food? Grilled Cheese sandwiches and now ice cream. I guess I sort of assumed he was healthier than that, what with all the fishes and loaves and stuff.

But that's just me.

Mark your calendar!

I'm sure 7-11 will love me for this, but mark down that in honor of July 11 (that's tomorrow) it's free Slurpee day! That's right! On 07/11 head down to your neighborhood 7-11 and pick up your free ounces of liquid crack, err, sugar.

On the upshot, they make Crystal Light Slurpees these days and I think you can score one for about 30 calories.

Just add vodka.

Not very motivated

Hey all, haven't necessarily been very motivated to post on the old blog lately. Mostly because I think that all four of my readers have dropped off.

Until I find my motivation, I ran across this article that sounded quite a bit like something that would happen to me.

With that, I present, "Teen finds bat in her bra while wearing it" for your Wednesday viewing pleasure:

From KUTV.com
Abbie Hawkins was left in shock after realizing a bat had been curled up inside her bra for five hours while she was wearing it.

The 19-year-old says she found a baby bat, about the size of her hand, tucked away in the padded pocket of her undergarment.

She says, "it looked very snug in there and I thought how mean I was for disturbing it."

Hawkins says she got dressed for work as usual and felt a slight vibration when driving but thought her cell phone was going off.

The bat apparently got into Hawkins' bra when the bra was hanging on the clothing line outside the night before.

The bat was unharmed and released outside.