Pillowcases Full Of Butterfingers

First off, no, I am not wearing a costume today. I thought about purchasing a pair of spider web like tights, but I really didn't want to spend the $8. Cheap? Yes I am. I'm in all black, though. I'll pretend it's for Halloween.

I don't remember the last time I dressed up for Halloween. Last year we went to a costume party but D didn't tell me it was a costume party until about 10 minutes before we were leaving--I had just returned home from bowling and was racing around the house trying to find something decent to wear, I didn't notice his overalls and straw hat...anyway, I ended up wearing a black turtleneck with great jeans and my glasses. I called myself a 'city girl' to contrast his 'country boy' although I'm not sure what he was really supposed to be. Yes, I realize it wasn't really a costume and that there was nothing innately 'city' about my outfit. Whatever.

I'm going to assume that the last time I dressed up for Halloween was in 7th grade. It was during the Halloween Blizzard of 1991 (And why is the news still talking about this? The last 3 mornings all I've heard from the morning news is about the weather patterns back in 1991 and how this year Halloween will be nothing like it. Is that really news?) and my costume actually worked for the weather quite nicely. I was a baby. Lame, I know; but my pastel pink footy pajamas actually allowed for long underwear and I put on a silly ghost hat. I was like a baby on Halloween--even more creative! Or lame. Again, whatever.

Tonight I am bowling. I think I will dress up as a bowler since I've been so bad lately that I can't really call myself a bowler. It will be an awesome costume complete with bowling shirt, shoes and ball(s). I even have a wrist brace.

I remember having a lot of fun on Halloween with all of my friends going door to door, saying the traditional 'Trick or Treat' and then returning home with my pillowcase full of candy. The only thing I like better now is that I don't have to sort out all of the chocolate and try to trade for Smarties, Sprees and Starburst--now I can just buy the candy I like. And tonight one of my teammates promised me a bag of candy corn, so I'm set.

Snap Shots Of Who I Am

Alternate Title: Me/Not Me

Giving credit where credit is due: Sorry, I can't. I saw this in some one's blog a long time ago; I can't remember for the life of me whose blog it was. Thanks for the great idea, though!

Medical Drama
Me: House

Not Me: Grey's Anatomy

Vacation Destinations
Me: Active--site seeing somewhere
Not Me: Relaxing on the beach

Bedroom Furniture (We're shopping for beds now so it's on my mind.)
Me: Wrought Iron
Not Me: Heavy, overbearing wood

Local Brews (before they franchised)

Me: Dunn Bros (on Grand Ave!)

Not Me: Caribou Coffee

Random Celebrity Crush

Me: Luke Wilson (I know, I could have gone with Matt Damon, George Clooney or Matthew McConaughey, but none of them seemed 'random' enough.)

Not Me: Johnny Depp (I liked him in Pirates, but I've never found him attractive.)

Eye Candy: Calorie Free, Dentist Approved

1. Yesterday the dentist shot me up with Novocain so he could fix my bite. (This is due to a recent filling which I’m still upset about.)
2. While my mouth was paralyzed and I felt like I was drooling (although friends constantly reassured me that I wasn’t) I ran up to the bowling center and saw an old high school crush.
3. Normally I wouldn’t care what I looked like at said bowling center (which is why I went directly after the dentist) but I would have probably made an extra effort had I known I was going to run into said high school crush (this goes back to me wanting to look pulled together for the ‘just in case’ moments life throws out).
4. He was engrossed in the arcade video games so I wasn’t terribly worried that he would see me in my expressionless, thick tongued state. And he wasn’t as cute as I remembered him either.
5. On Saturday I potentially get to see another crush.
6. It isn’t actually a crush, it’s more that he’s really good looking and many of the other men around him are not, and since he’s nice but quiet, it’s fun to over exaggerate and act giddy with a select group of women about the slightest bit of attention.
7. It’s kind of like a random cute guy at a coffee shop—you don’t want anything to happen, but it’s nice to be noticed. It’s the same thing; we just take it to a high school crush level.
8. In more tooth-related and less crush-worthy news, my teeth are very sensitive to cold right now and even though the cavities and recent fillings are NOT MY FAULT, I’m feeling guilty about eating anything sugary-sweet.
9. (I also have a thing for misusing parentheses and hyphens—just look at this entry!)
10. No, I’m not going to edit it; it’s the way I type. It’s my style.
11. So because of the guilt factor and also the fear of finding out that yet another tooth that is ‘sealed’ is not really sealed and that a cavity is really forming under there no matter how often I brush and floss and rinse, I’m going back on the Healthy Eating Plan and to the boards at SparkPeople.
12. I’m also going to start eating better because the last several weeks of drinking frou frou coffees and eating pastries like they’re going out of style have taken their toll. Not only can I feel it (sluggish from the sugar high and crash) but I can now see it.
13. I’m going to do my best to resist the waxy goodness of candy corn for the benefit of my waist and molars!

I'm Too Sexy For This Song

I was caught singing 'Comin' To Your City' by Big & Rich last weekend. Granted, I was in my car and the guy couldn't hear me (Thank God!) but he totally gave me the Crazy Lady Singing In Her Car look. I was really embarrassed, so I let him pass me and then I continued singing. And gesturing. Oh yes, I dance in the car too. It's a modified shoulder dance. It's awesome. My moves to 'Save A Horse, Ride a Cowboy' are much better, though. Too bad he wasn't around for that one.

But yes, I sing in the car. All the time. Unless there is someone else in the car with me. I don't sing in the shower, though. If I sang in the shower, my dogs would be howling. Not good. Also, singing in the shower leaves me vulnerable--D might hear me. He busted me belting out 'Ain't Going Down" by Garth Brooks early on in our relationship. I think he was as embarrassed as I was. Good times. I really only let loose to country--with the exception of 'Baby Got Back' but that is a must sing song. That is actually one of the only songs I will voluntarily dance to as well. It's just that good. If you don't agree, you are wrong.

I cannot sing or dance. I was once in choir. I did duets. I must have been decent, right? Not so much anymore. D and I both agree that if we were to be given one natural talent we would want it to be singing--you know, a really nice voice to sing well, with perfect pitch and such. Neither of us were so blessed. (Sorry to out you D!) Neither of us can dance either. (Sorry again!) So last weekend both my singing and dancing 'skills' were on display when my friend made us all go out. For most of the night I was just sitting at the table mouthing along the words and shoulder dancing at the table--this consists of me pretending to sing to someone and then making up awkward motions to go along with the song. Later that night we were forced on the dance floor. (I love dancing, but I'm not any good at it for the third time--and I didn't have any bridal attire to hide my sad attempts.) My hope is that by last call people were too drunk to remember that I danced at all.

On another note, one that has relatively little to do with singing or dancing--but is about a song, dm just got a new car with built in navigation. She and another friend named it Alice. Who The F*** Is Alice? Oh come on, laugh. It's funny.

A Fashionista I'm Not

I look presentable most days. Actually, I think I have nice clothes, I just go for comfort more often than fashion. And I'm an accessory virgin. I often day dream about going out (anywhere) looking fashionable and put together, like I purposefully put on each article knowing that they complimented each other and worked together to create the perfect look--but the effort it must take to actually DO that. Thinking about the effort stops me every time.

What I actually do, is roll out of bed and select a pair of black or gray or sometimes pinstriped pants and pair them with a solid sweater of some kind--I like to mix it up with short sleeves and long sleeves and sometimes a cardigan. (So daring, I know!) I do all of that after showering and towel drying my hair. Then I put on my wedding ring to complete the look. On Fridays and weekends I do the same thing with jeans, and sometimes a T-shirt (tanks in the summer).

This week I'm going through a Let's Try To Get Ready phase, so I've worn skirts and dresses and button up shirts (can one even say 'blouse' anymore?) and even earrings one day. Everyone at work kept asking if I had interviews scheduled. And by 'everyone' I mean two people and I wish that I did have interviews scheduled, I need to get back on that. I've felt pretty good about my outfits this week, but I know that I will eventually slide back into my favorite sweater, and then the Ugly Sweater once it gets colder. I'm trying to guard against this, but it seems inevitable.

My goal is to not only look work appropriate (which I really think that I do most every day) but to look professional and pulled together. It would be nice to pass the Ex Test (you know, the one where if you ran into an ex you would just know you looked good and wouldn't give a second thought to saying "Hi" because you're not dressed in an old T-shirt with Crocs on) or maybe more appropriate for this post, the Impromptu Executive Meeting Test--not that I wear old T-shirts and Crocs to work, but you get the idea. I'm working on it. I'll probably never be a fashionista, but maybe someday soon I'll own an accessory or two and know how to wear them.

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This morning, like every Wednesday morning, I was driving in to work listening to K102 and trying not to spill chai on myself. Yes, Wednesday mornings are my favorite mornings during the work week. I get to drive myself in to work as opposed to carpooling with D (which I actually do love, by the way, but a woman needs her space and her own music!) and that means I get to stop at Dunn Bros before work (or else I'm actually going to Sbux, which is fine, but it's no Dunn's) and also, I get to leave work early. I know the last thing has nothing to do with Wednesday mornings, but just knowing I get to leave early makes my morning better.

So, back on topic...This morning on K102 they were starting some new Ask The Experts thing, and today they had 2 women from Macy's on air who were certified bra fitters. (Log that under a job I do not want.) Right now Macy's is doing the Wacoal Fit For The Cure as it is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month--so go get fitted! Eight in ten women are still wearing the wrong size bra, even after the Oprah special a year or two ago. All of these women were calling in with fit questions and Muss and Fish were trying very hard to stay professional. It was an OK show, but it still amazes me that more women don't get fitted properly. Bras are expensive. If I'm going to spend that kind of money I would want to make sure I was buying the right size. And that is exactly what I did.

I didn't know about the whole Macy's Fit For The Cure thing, or else I maybe would have waited a week and gone there. But I went to Nordstrom last week to get fitted, and I don't think it would ever dawn on me to get fitted for bras at Macy's. Nordstrom is known for that, not Macy's. Just like Marshall Field's was known for bridal registry. In Minnesota you just registered at Marshall Field's, or at least you used to. I'm glad I was married a few years ago, if I had to register now I don't know where I would go. Would I go to Macy's by default? I really don't like Macy's. Sad. Back on point...I went to Nordstrom last week and spent gobs of money on my ever shrinking chest to lift and separate 'the girls'. (Ugh. I really hate that phrase, but it just seemed so appropriate and Peg Bundy right there. (Hmmm, 'appropriate' and 'Peg Bundy' don't really work together, do they? Oh well.)) So now my bras all fit and they are so comfortable I could probably wear them to bed. Let's ignore the fact that I measured out to be one size and ended up buying a size that was completely different--this is where 'bra fitting is more of an art than a science' as the certified bra fitter said this morning, but I just think bra sizes are meaningless.

I think that's all I have to say about boobs. (Did you get that from the post title? Pretend you're a pre-teen boy. Do you get it now? OK then, whip out your calculator. You better get it now.) Get fitted at Macy's so Wacoal donates money to Susan G. Komen for the Cure. If you don't get fitted there, get fitted somewhere. And support Susan G. Komen for the Cure. Lastly, my friend was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago, went through treatment, and is now in remission. She is doing well and made us go out on Saturday night to let loose. It was more fun than I would have thought and as good of a reason as any to celebrate. In fact, Saturday was so much fun that I'm still recovering (and I didn't even drink!) and I plan to take a nap this afternoon because I GET TO LEAVE EARLY TODAY! I love Wednesdays.

Happiness Is...

Thirteen Things that make me happy: