Category Archive

Here is the conversation that happend in our house last night:

JB:  THE RED SOCKS WON!  IT WAS THE BIGGEST POST SEASON UPSET IN OVER 80 YEARS!  blah blah blah blah blah blah blah……….  *insert about 5 minutes of excited chatter here*

LB: (after seeing a blurb on ESPN about the game) THEY HAVE  A PLAYER NAMED COCO CRISP?!!!!!!  Seriously?!  Coco Crisp?

Sorry, but I find that much more entertaining.  That’s even worse than Ocho Cinco.

Forgot to mention that I was part of the Paper Airplane world record attempt last week at our company meeting.  Here is the video:

http://video.msn.com/?mkt=en-us&vid=98b8ba55-1871-44b0-b6df-93728553935e&playlist=videoByUuids:uuids:df102345-4270-41be-8a0d-c6b284aeced7%2Cda433e86-d5c2-4aac-98d7-837bdf821338%2Cd5496c16-f63d-450c-9a98-1b739b5051f1&from=MSNHP&tab=m137&GT1=42003

You share a lot with people when you work in cubicles. Sometimes too much.

About 20 feet from me sits a guy we all have dubbed Nose Blower Guy (NBG for short). About once every 30 minutes, he blows his nose so loud, so HONKINGLY loud, that it literally makes me shudder. It is disgusting (as he just did it again, timing is uncanny). There are at least 10 of my office mates that talk about him — he bothers us all. It is distracting and gross.

Problem is none of us really KNOW the guy, so we don’t feel comfortable talking to him about this annoying habit. So, one of my friends asked his boss to intervene. That didn’t work. Last week, another friend kidnapped his tissue box (which she put on my desk for some reason, and I’m afraid to touch it), and in its place, left a note saying, “please blow your nose in the restroom. thanks!”

That didn’t work. Now we’re debating new tactics. I know, it’s strange, but I tell you, you hear about 5 people groan each time he does it, and the man is oblivious, and keeps honking his nose as LOUD and as often as he can.

A friend of mine has a guy she calls the “nose whistler” sitting on the other side of her cube wall. It bugs her like Chinese water torture. Luckily, I am able to block that noise out with headphones, but the Nose Blower Guy, well, he comes through loud and clear, no matter how loud I have my music cranked up.

Anyone else have a good shared workspace story to share?

We’ve been reading Little Miss fairy tales lately, but this one is more up my alley.

You know it’s a slow news day when the headline of the local paper is “Beware of the lure of casino carpets“.  But it does bring to light something I’ve always pondered — why do those carpets have to be so tacky and awful?

My favorite quote from the article: “Casino carpet is known as an exercise in deliberate bad taste that somehow encourages people to gamble,” David Schwartz, director of the Center for Gaming Research at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, wrote in an essay.

They also mentioned that the hideous designs don’t show dirt, spilled drinks and cigarette burns easily.

What entertained me the most about the article was the man mentioned that has made it his hobby to take pictures of casino carpet, and numerous pictures were featured in the paper.  Unfortunately, those aren’t in the online article, but here is a LiveSearch of Casino Carpet Images.  Just in case you’re bored…

I’m a bit perturbed that Open Water Swimming (i.e. the Marathon Swim) isn’t getting more coverage.  You really have to dig to find info on it on the official Olympics site.  I believe the event takes place on Wednesday, but from what I can find online, coverage will be minimal, and it probably won’t be on TV.  Bummer. 

Anyway, I saw this picture from the triathlon, and it cracked me up.  I would caption this photo as “Off To A Bad Start”, as I think the guy with the 50HKG cap on must have been taking a nap when the gun went off. 

Off To A Bad Start

I gave up drinking on Monday.

It’s a wonder I had such a hangover this morning!

I’m trying the South Beach Diet, per a doctor recommendation, and the first phase involves no alcohol for 2 weeks.  I made it about 24 hours.  I just picked a bad week to quit, as there was my hubby’s birthday and a business trip with my entire team.  A team that turns out is REALLY fun to travel with. 

I’ll quit again next Monday, I swear!

I was standing in front of a class of 3rd graders for my volunteer duties with Junior Achievement, and can’t believe what slipped out of my mouth.

The scene:  Each student was to come up with an idea for a newspaper article and present it to the class.  A boy gets up and says something about monkey bars, but with his lisp, I heard something else.

Before I could stop my unconsious mind from clarifying, I said: “Monkey Balls?!”

It wasn’t until the word Balls was out of my mouth that I realized that was really bad.  I tried not to react, and back pedaled saying, “I thought you were talking about monkeys playing with balls,” but I soon realized it would be best to change the subject and move on, as there is really no recovering from saying Monkey Balls in front of a bunch of 10 year olds.

Let’s just say that having three bean chili at lunch can make for a horribly uncomfortable afternoon when you work in a cubicle environment.

Well, duh.  I could have told you that.  There is nothing like living in Detroit for 4 years to teach you how truly amazing the West is.

Article excerpt:

“Imagine living in a city with the country’s highest violent-crime rate and second-highest unemployment rate. As an added kicker, you need more Superfund dollars allocated to your city to clean up toxic-waste sites than just about any other metropolitan area.

Unfortunately, this nightmare is a reality for the residents of Detroit. The Motor City grabs the top spot on Forbes’ inaugural list of America’s Most Miserable Cities.”

And they didn’t even talk about the horrible weather!

Another fun link from my class this week.  Enjoy.

I’ve spent this week in a Problem Solving/Decision making class in the Bay Area.  We just watched this video in class as an example of poor decision making.  Quite the romantic way to spend Valentine’s Day, I must say.  The video is hilarious — what do do with a dead whale?

I blame it on my co-workers who told me ghost stories yesterday.

I’ve mentioned on this site before how I have lucid dreams occasionally, where my dreams are so real that they invoke me to take physical action, usually including screaming and leaping out of bed in the middle of the night.

JB was away on an overnight business trip last night, at at about 2am, I distinctly thought someone was standing in my bedroom, so I yelled at the top of my lungs and threw my pillow with all of my might.

That is when I heard a crash.  I somehow managed to hit the lamp on my night stand, and it fell to the ground, shattering into many pieces.  I had no idea what the crash was, but once I turned on the light and saw the carnage, all I could think was, “JB is going to have a field day with this.”

And then I couldn’t get back to sleep because I was so bugged that I now need to add buying a new lamp to my never ending list of to-dos. 

Remarkably, I somehow didn’t manage to wake the toddler sleeping in the next room.

I’m on a roll here, confessing little gems about my past.  Here is another one that sticks out in my memory…  When I was in high school, my honors English teacher assigned us to do an essay on an influential woman in history.  We had to submit our subjects to her in advance for approval.

The influential woman I initially chose?  Marilyn Monroe.

And yes, I was denied.  So then I think I came up with Pocahontas.  Which, OK, yeah, she helped the white settlers with their relations with the local Indians/Native Americans, but that was the best I could come up with?!

My original submission just cracks me up.  It would be like my daughter wanting to write an essay on Anna Nicole Smith.  Yes, both are highly publicized, but influential so that they should be held in high regard?  Not so much.

So do any of you have good gems from your past you want to share in the comments?  You can do so anonymously, you know…

Just to finish off my thoughts on yesterday’s post, one last embarrassing tidbit…  So when I was in college, studying Marketing and dreaming of being like the ad execs on Melrose Place, I also intended to buy my entire professional wardrobe of suits from Victoria’s Secret.

Ha!  I think I just wanted to be a sexy little business woman.  Luckily, Mom swooped in to save the day yet again and helped me select an appropriate wardrobe in which to start my career at General Motors, where my expectations were put in check almost immediately.  Can I tell you how BAD it would have been for me to show up at GM world headquarters, the conservative capitol of the country, in a saucy little Victoria’s Secret get-up?!

Ah, geesh.  I’m having some troubles coming up with anything of interest to say on this site lately.  Sometimes life is just routine, and it’s hard to come up with anything truly worthy of posting.

So I thought I’d post a few embarrassing little tidbits about myself.  I was thinking lately about how skewed my impressions of the “Real World” (i.e. the working world) were when I was younger.

For instance, when I was in middle school, my Mom insisted that I take a typing class.   I remember getting all offended by this, telling her pompously, “I do not intend to be a secretary, so I don’t need to take a typing class.”

I can’t tell you how much I laugh at that now looking back.  Ever since graduating from college, I have been practically strapped to a computer for at least 40 hours a week.  And by the way, I’m damn good at typing.

So then there was this time in college when my computer did something wonky (word of the week, y’all), which was probably user error, but I THREW the keyboard across the room, and proclaimed that I hated computers and was proud to be computer illiterate.

Yes, I did that in front of my roommate and good friend, A.  Good thing I got over my aversion to computers, because if I hadn’t, I might have ended up being one of the girls that holds road signs at construction sites.  (Not that that is a BAD thing, just not my gig!)  Ha!  And to think I now work in high tech for a software company!

I also recall that one of my reasons for choosing to be a Marketing major was because I didn’t want to spend a lot of time on computers.  Oh, and because I didn’t like math.

And now for the kicker, which is more embarrassing because it was when I was in college…  I remember back when I chose Marketing as a major.  I just loved my advertising classes, and truly pictured my career to be like those of the characters on (drumroll please) Melrose Place.  I even recall thinking that I wanted to be a powerful business woman just like the character Amanda (played by Heather Locklear).

Seriously.  If I could only go back and level-set my past self.  I never pictured myself sitting in front of a computer in a cubicle, doing a lot of number crunching throughout my day.  I mean Marketing has budgets and cost reduction and customer stats…  All math…  I really think I thought I’d be sitting in a big office dreaming up funny ads and commercials.

And though my job is pretty cool, it’s not nearly as - dare I say it - ’sexy’ as I had once imagined. 

So there you have it.  Mom was right.  And I hope to encourage my own daughter to be a bit more educated on her career choices by doing some internships and job shadowing.  You better believe she’ll be participating in Bring Your Daughter To Work Day (a brilliant program started about 15 years ago).

Ah, man, I’m still chuckling at my former ignorence.  Hope you enjoyed a good laugh at my expense!

I can’t believe I’m about to admit this.

Last night, JB stayed up late, so I put in ear plugs so that I wouldn’t wake up when he came in to get ready for bed. One of my earplugs fell out in the middle of the night.

And I had a dream that I found a marshmellow. I remember saying in my dream, “hey, look — a marshmellow!”

I then put said marshmellow in my mouth.

That’s when I woke up and realized I had an ear plug in my mouth.

BLEK!

There is a sign in the stairwell of my old office building that says “Beware of high heels in the stairway!”, and it has an image of a high heel shoe with lines around it making it look very hazardous.

I wish I had taken a picture of it. Anyway, that just made me chuckle every time I walked past it. Afterall, high heels truly are evil and hazardous, especially in the workplace and in stairwells.

The bathroom stalls at my office each have six toilet paper dispensers filled with toilet paper. Each roll has been used a different amount. I sat there thinking they should do a study on which roll you choose and what that says about your personality.

I was sitting in a meeting with one of the higher-ups today, and noticed that he kept looking at my hair.

I was getting really annoyed, willing him to LOOK ME IN THE EYE, DAMNIT, instead of looking at my hair.

I wrote it off to him not being able to concentrate until I saw myself in the mirror. Evidently, this new curl “serum” I’ve been using had globbed up right by my temple, and left a lovely white smudge.

Totally ala “There’s Something About Mary”.

So now I understand why he couldn’t stop looking at my hair, and I’m swearing off that new product, “Curls Rock” because it totally doesn’t rock.

I just got a link exchange request from an Aerobics site. I thought it was just run-of-the-mill spam until I saw that they said they put a link to my site on their Chair Aerobics page.

Chair Aerobics.

I’m so not kidding.

And then, I clicked on the link, and there is Rebellin - a site that has never mentioned Chair Aerobics until today.

I think I must go do some Chair Aerobics now.

Last night, as we were about to go to sleep, we had this conversation.

LB: Today on Oprah, she said that you should tell your loved one something you appreciate about them every day, and it should be something different every day.
JB: *grunt*
LB: I appreciate how you came home and spent a lot of quality time with Madelynn, and how you changed her diapers and fed her tonight. OK, now your turn.
JB: I appreciate that you don’t watch Oprah when I’m home.

What can I say — the man has a way with words!

JB: You know how to make fudge? (as he pulls a Tupperware container full of fudge out of the fridge)
LB: I’ve made you fudge every Christmas I’ve known you!
JB: Really?! Is this whole wheat fudge?
LB: *laughing* No, there isn’t any flour in fudge.
JB: But it’s brown…
LB: *thinking that I really hope he’s joking about that comment*

I didn’t have the heart to tell him all of the unhealthy ingredients that go into fudge, as I usually make his treats as healthy as possible. But you just can’t do that with fudge. Fudge must be sinfully good, and I think I succeeded with this batch.

Thanks to Karen, who e-mailed me to remind me how we used to shoe polish “For Sale” on random cars, giving them absolutely ridiculous price tags… For instance, we’d find a super expensive car, and say, “For Sale, $700″ on it.

I had totally forgotton about that evil ploy from my teen years. I guess if that’s among the worst of what I was doing back then, I was doing pretty good!

I got a very angry sounding answering machine message from my mother this weekend. It went something like this:

“Miss Lynnette. I think you owe me an apology. I am reading a New Mexico magazine right now, and there is an ad for MINI MAIDS, M-I-N-I.”

I looked it up today. By golly, she’s right.

So, what I thought was a Freudian slip on my Mom’s behalf, was really a name of a company.

Who would name a company Mini-Maids anyway? Are there height requirements for employment? And what is the benefit of having a Mini maid versus any other type of maid? I would think they’d have trouble reaching things!

I just can’t resist poking fun at Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes one last time…

Remember how she publically proclaimed that she was going to remain a virgin until she was married?

I initially thought that was the reason behind the rushed proposal/marriage plans, because, come on, Tom Cruise is 42 and was married for 10 years… He’s used to getting a little something something.

Evidently, good old Tom wore her down. TomKat is having a TomKitten.

*shivering from disgust*

Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are expecting.

That seriously gives me the willies.

She better hope she doesn’t get postpartum depression!

After we moved out of our old house, we decided to have maids come in to do the move-out cleaning. This decision was made for two reasons:

1. We had enough work on our plate with the move.
2. I’m not supposed to be around a lot of cleaning chemicals in my delicate condition.

I hired Merry Maids. However, every time my mother and I discussed when the maids were coming or what they were going to do, she’d refer to them as the Mini Maids.

This really cracked me up. I kept telling her, “They’re happy, Mom, not midgets.”

And though I’d correct her on this, later in the conversation, she’d be back to calling them Mini Maids.

I’m sorry, Mom, but I had to post this. It makes me smile every time I picture a crew of little people cleaning my house!

While at the gym today, I became annoyed at the dwindling supply of exercise balls. My trainer gave me all kinds of good core exercises to do on the exercise balls, but lately it is getting more and more challenging to get my hands on one of them. Plus, the only exercise balls that are available right now are for short people.

Despite what my husband might say, I am not short.

So I went up to the gym manager today, and just barely stopped myself before saying to him, “When are you going to get some more balls?”

It was right before that sentence was about to come out of my mouth that I realized how bad it could sound. So, I carefully reworded it to say, “When are you going to get more EXERCISE BALLS?”

Oh, and the woman that calls me Lindsay at the gym was there today, and at one point, she said, “that was impressive.” I didn’t really react because I didn’t think she was talking to me. But a few minutes later, she said again, “that was impressive.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were talking to me.” I said.

“Well, your name IS LINDSAY!” Evidently she had said “that was impressive, Lindsay.”

Why, oh why have I not had the heart to correct this woman? I have no clue what her name is, but she seems to pride herself on remembering my name, despite the fact she gets it wrong!

Note: Are you wondering what I did that was impressive? I was doing chest presses while on the exercise ball, like this:

Well, I’m sad to say that a Golden Retriever swimming the Alcatraz Shark Fest beat my time from last year by seven minutes. That’s a hit to the ego… Read the article.

You know you live in Nevada when you hear rain on the roof of your office, and everyone bounds out of their chairs to go to the window and look at the rain. We recently had a cloudburst — the first rain we’ve had since probably May — and there were about 15 people crowded around the closest window to look at the rain.

While we were all looking at the rain, a man who isn’t from around here asked how long the rain would last, because he didn’t want to run out into the downpour to get to his car. We laughed, saying it would only last a few minutes, but that it was a truly exciting event for us.

It gave a welcome break to our heat wave!

Our real estate agent signs his name in quotes. I’ve received two faxes from him today, and both were signed:

Thanks,
“Brad”

I find this really strange. His business card says Brad, so it’s not like he’s shortening Bradley to Brad in his signature.

Since my name with the state of the Nevada is officially A, perhaps I should start signing my signature as “A”. That’d be cool, wouldn’t it, “Brad”?!

So we are trying to sell our Blazer. Yesterday, we got a message on our answering maching about it. It went something like this:

“Yeah, I’m calling about your, uh, little Blazer. How many miles does it have on it?

TURN SIGNAL! TURN SIGNAL!

*pause* Sorry, someone just cut me off. Call me.”

JB and I listened to this message, and I was clutching my stomach from laughing so hard. Throughout the rest of the evening, one of us would randomly insert a desperate cry of “TURN SIGNAL! TURN SIGNAL!” into the conversation. Try it sometime — it’s really fun!

I just met with my new personal trainer for the second time yesterday. The first thing he asked me is if I got sore from the workouts he prescribed last week.

I said no.

Wow, did he turn up the volume on my workout yesterday.

Believe me, I’m sore!

Mental note: If you tell your trainer that you didn’t get sore at all, be prepared to be so sore you can hardly move after he is done with you.

When you have stitches on the roof of your mouth, it’s probably not a wise thing to eat peanut butter.

But what can I say? I’m an addict! It’s very hard to get all the peanut butter off the roof of my mouth while trying not to disturb those stitches - the stitches which JB has lovingly helped me trim twice in the past 3 days, because they get loose and feel like a piece of dental floss dangling in my mouth…

You know it must be true love if a man will trim your stitches for you.

For the record, only one person took advantage of my drugged state today with an April Fool’s joke. And damn, did she get me good.

That’s what best friends are for, right?

Just wait until next year, girlfriend, when I have all my marbles.

Another foreigner called me today. I was spelling out my e-mail address to him, and when I got to the letter ‘e’, he asks, “E, as in Idaho?”

It was really hard to keep a straight face after he said that. I told him, “no, E as in East.”

Of course, when I got to the letter I in my address, I said, “I as in Idaho.”

I haven’t received an e-mail from him yet, so I’m assuming there was a bit of a communication gap.

When I came home tonight, there was a notice on our front door saying that we’re not allowed to park in the street for the next two days.

The reason?

Evidently, there will be massive ‘Crack Blowing’ in our neighborhood over the next few days. That really makes me laugh. Heh. Crack blowing.

I just got an e-mail from Costco, and thought I was reading it wrong when I saw that you could buy CASKETS AND URNS through their website.

I am not kidding!!!

After skiing yesterday, JB and I headed to Gart Sports in pursuit of getting JB some new ski pants.

He found the perfect pair… Well, they would have been perfect if he could just find his size. We could find the size smaller than he needed, and the size larger than he needed, but not his size.

He was really bummed, considering getting the size too large and just wearing a belt with them, but then he discovered that the mannequin was wearing his pants in HIS size.

So of course, we stripped down the mannequin, which looked really funny in its parka without pants. And man, did that mannequin have a big bulge! I was so amuzed that I nabbed a picture with my camera phone.

“I’m mannequin size,” JB proudly proclaimed.

Then, I saw the ski pants that I’ve been wanting for a while. I wasn’t even looking for new pants, but these are so cool… They are black and have stitching like jeans would. Totally hip.

I showed JB the pants, thinking they were too expensive, but he urged me to go try them on. Of course they didn’t have my size.

That is, until my gaze fell upon the female mannequin that was next to our now pantsless male mannequin.

That’s right, she was wearing my pants in my size! So, while about five people in the check out line watched, I took off her boots and stripped her down, chuckling all the time because we created a matching pair of pantsless mannequins.

Here she is:

So, I’m here to report that JB and I are both mannequin size, and that we both have some really cool new ski pants!

Here is a recent conversation exerpt:

LB: I hear they’re looking for a name for the new radio station.
*radio: Welcome to the new station, Bob 97.3*
JB: I was just thinking that Bob would be a great name for a radio station.
LB: What the heck kind of name for a radio station is Bob?!
JB: A really cool one.

A few months ago, I started chatting with a woman in the locker room of the gym. She and I work out at the same time every day, so it just seemed the personable thing to do to introduce myself and exchange pleasantries every day.

Her name is Julie. So the day after we exchanged names, I came into the locker room and said, ‘Hi, Julie.’

The next day, she came into the locker room and said, ‘Hi, Lindsay!’

And I didn’t take the time or effort to correct her that my name isn’t actually Lindsay. In fact, she has been calling me Lindsay for a few months, so it is really too late to correct her without causing significant weirdness.

Today, I walked into the locker room, and heard someone say, ‘Where you been, Lyns?’

At first I didn’t answer because I didn’t see Julie, so I didn’t react, but then when the locker room was quiet, I realised that she had seen me in the mirror of the locker room, and in fact, I am now Lyns.

I answered, telling her that I had been going to the gym at a different time this week due to a hectic work schedule… But meanwhile, I’m thinking it’s pretty humorous that I have a whole other identity at the gym… I’m Lyns.

And while I’m talking about the gym, I have another story for you. I know you’re dieing to hear about it. But it reminds me of those jokes you used to tell as a kid that started with, ‘What is grosser than gross?’

Last night, my answer would have been:

‘When you accidentally drop your locker key in the toilet.’

Yes, I had to stick my entire hand into the toilet of 24 Hour Fitness last night to retrieve it. I WAS NOT HAPPY!

I went grocery shopping yesterday after work. While looking at yogurt, I had an older woman approach me.

“You look like a lady executive.”

It caught me off guard, but I smiled, and said thank you.

“Are you a lady executive?”

“I’m trying to be.” I responded. I wouldn’t classify manager level as executive quite yet.

“Well, I’m a photographer,” she said, “and I saw you earlier in another aisle, and I thought to myself, ‘now that is a lady executive’.”

I said thank you, because I assume it was a compliment, and I went on my way.

I seem to be attracting the attention of older ladies this month. (Refer to the Polish Nose comment.) Perhaps I just look approachable.

So what was I wearing to generate such attention? Well, I must have looked a bit Euro, as I was wearing the orange sweater and white scarf I bought in Italy. I had paired those with a black suede skirt, black hose, and heels. I was also wearing my black leather jacket. So there. That’s what a lady executive looks like.

On the way to work this morning, I was cut off by someone driving a truck with Lobotomy Racing decals all over their truck. After driving behind them for about 20 minutes and starting at the LobotomyRacing.com URL, I decided to check it out. In the Fun Stuff section, you can participate in ‘Rate My Scar’.

Interesting…

Last night, while watching National Lampoon’s Christmas Special, the phone rang. When I answered the phone and discovered it was for me, I moved into the bedroom so as to not interrupt JB’s enjoyment of the movie. I turned the movie on in the bedroom, so that I could talk on the phone and keep up with the movie at the same time.

I’m all about multi-tasking.

After I hung up, I specifically remembered leaving the TV remote for the bedroom TV on the bed, and then I took the phone and placed it on its cradle.

About a half hour later, JB started asking where the bedroom TV remote was. I told him it was on the bed.

“No, it’s not.”

So I got up and walked to the bedroom. On the bed, I saw the telephone. That’s when a little light went off in my head.

Did I?

I walked over to the phone cradle, and found the TV remote placed neatly on the phone cradle.

Sometimes I just have to wonder what is going on in my own brain. That was a classic.

I was just at lunch with a co-worker when an older woman walked up to me.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just have to tell you something.”

I was thinking that she had been listening to our talk of weddings and honeymoons, but this is what the old woman said,

“You have a very distinctly Polish shaped nose.”

It took all I had in me not to burst out laughing, because it has to be one of the most random comments I’ve heard in quite a while.

I’m not Polish, as a matter of fact, but I did marry a man with some Polish in him.

I guess our kids are destined to have distinctly Polish shaped noses.

(And no, people, I’m not pregnant.)

While at lunch today, someone said,

“There hasn’t been a World War III yet, has there?”

I guess that person was asleep in history class.

Last night I went to watch JB’s band perform. When I arrived, I was told by the other members of the band that I was no longer a groupie since I am now married to a member of the band. I was then told I am now a manager.

That should pay better than being a groupie, right? I consider it as a promotion.

As I listened to the music last night, I started looking around and I thought I really can’t believe I haven’t done a blog entry about this place yet. So here it goes.

The bar they were playing at is called O’Skis. It’s actually the place they play at the most. It is an Irish/Polish bar (hence the name), and it is in an old brick building that used to be lodging for miners.

The band ’stage’ (I say stage lightly because it’s an area they clear for the band, and it’s not an actual stage) is in front of the bathrooms. It is a really strange lay out. But basically, the band pretty much faces the bathrooms and the dance floor is also right in front of the bathrooms.

They really have a captive audience in those bathrooms.

The band gets treated to glimpses of men at the urinals every time the door opens, and if you’re on the dance floor, you get a really intimate look at the urinals, if you know what I mean.

The bathrooms are labled Lads and Lasses, in true Irish fashion. It is pure entertainment every time I’m there to watch the drunk people get really confused by those signs. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen women entering the men’s restroom and vice versa. Each time, you’ll see them quickly turn around and bolt for the other restroom.

This has been such a common problem that the bar owners actually put up signs next to the Lads and Lasses signs with the universal signs for men and women.

It didn’t help.

The bar atsmophere is completed by a man that JB and I have dubbed the Grumpy Bartender. It takes quite a while to get his attention if you want a drink. It doesn’t matter where you stand at the bar, what big bills you flash at him — he’s going to make you wait for that drink.

And when he finally does serve you, it’s with a grunt.

Last night, as the lead singer was introducing the members of the band to the audience, he stopped at JB, and mentioned that he was a newlywed.

“And that’s his smiling bride,” he said into the microphone. I cheered and waved my hands at him. Then he said, “these people are so cool. They invited these hot chicks to the wedding for me…. But the hot chicks wouldn’t have a thing to do with me.”

I guess we’ll let him believe that my long-time friends were invited just to entertain him.

So anyway, that was my night. It’s a fun atmosphere, and it was good to be at one of JB’s gigs again. Yes, ladies and gents, I married a rock star.

Before going to this eCommerce themed conference, I e-mailed the organizers and asked what the dress code would be. Logically, with this being an Internet group, I thought that the dress would be very casual.

I was told that the dress is business casual, so I packed some skirt and sweater outfits with my sandals. Afterall, this Southern California, too, which is known for being a casual culture.

Everyone else at this conference is in suits.

Suits?! Who knew that business casual meant suits, and that my Eddie Bauer outfits would make me feel so under dressed?!

After a late breakfast on Sunday, JB decided that we should go to JC Pennies so that he could find some new work shirts. Since the weather was bad and we didn’t have any other plans, I was up for it.

I have been wanting to get some new jeans for the honeymoon, so I went directly to the women’s jeans section, grabbed about five pairs, and headed to the dressing room.

Once I had narrowed down my choices, I left the dressing room to find JB and get his opinion. After walking around the store in my socks and un-purchased jeans, I found him and dragged him back to my dressing room area. He immediately vetoed the first pair I showed him, and with the second pair, he said they were ‘alright’. not great, but OK.

I decided to get the jeans (which happened to be Gloria Vanderbuilt jeans, which I swear I haven’t seen since the 80s), and as we were about to leave, JB stopped at a display for short denim mini-skirts that were half price.

He picked up one skirt that was really short, and said, ‘you should try this on’. Being a fan of short skirts, I didn’t hesitate, and headed back into the dressing room.

I put the skirt on, and I swear it was like 6 inches long. I went out to show JB, and when he saw me, I said, ‘I forgot we were in the Juniors department’.

Next thing I know, the dressing room attendant and JB were both laughing hysterically at me. ‘You made my day’, the dressing room attendant told me. I didn’t think it was that funny, but yeah, it did look like I was trying a bit too hard to be a hipster.

The attendant lady just couldn’t stop laughing at me. From there on out, everything I said was funny. I handed her back another skirt that I was considering buying, saying, ‘this was vetoed’, as JB had simply shook his head ‘no’ at the skirt. She was about to just roll on the ground at that.

Anyway, I don’t know if it is as funny as I recall it, but I guess it just shows that I’m a true grown up when trying on Junior skirts is such a laughing matter.

Here is a classic quote from an article about Janet Jackson:

But Janet did reveal some other very private thoughts she says inspired her new CD “Damita Jo:” “It�s about love and the different characters and personalities that live within me.”

And Jackson said she calls one of these personalities “Strawberry:” “Strawberry is a character who lives within me. She comes out at moments. She’s just a very, very sexual person that you hear on the album.”

So when was the last time Strawberry came out to play? “Not that long ago, I�ll put it like that,” Jackson told us.

Quote from this article.

Sounds a bit like a multiple personality disorder if you ask me.

Sometimes I crack myself up. I was having an instant messenger conversation with my brother, Chuck, when he informed me that Audra’s chinchilla, Slipper, gave birth to a baby chinchilla last night.

Here is how the conversation went (I was inspired by their current chincilla’s name of Slipper):

Me: Audra should name it Bootie (as in a baby’s shoe)
Me: and then when it grows up, she can call it Bootielicious
Chuckles: cute

Happy Friday!

I got a kick out of this link. Hope you do, too.

With a total of 253 votes, here are the results from the facial hair poll.

Facial hair for men — a do or a don’t? (Question courtesy of Amber)

A definite don’t 34%
A definite do 1%
OK - but only a mustache 39%
OK - but only a goatee 1%
I really don’t care 25%

I think my brother Chuck, who used to sport a “used car salesman’s” mustache, stuffed the ballot box a bit here. So let’s just ignore that option, and we now find that facial hair for men is a definite don’t. Now be sure to check out the new poll in the left hand nav and cast your vote!

Friday night, after a wonderful four course dinner, JB and I headed to a bar in my neighborhood to hear a local 80s cover tune band, Bad Intent.

They started playing my favorite AC/DC tune, Shook Me All Night Long. Back when I was in college, my friend Amber and I would go out to a country bar called Cowboys, where we’d two step the night away. When the bands at Cowboys went on break, the DJ always played the AC/DC tune Shook Me All Night Long. Amber and I would dance enthusiastically to this song, and we knew all the words, so we’d belt them out to each other.

So on Friday night, when the band started playing that song, I got all nostalgic about our college days. I grabbed my cell phone, wanting to share this song with Amber, but then stopped myself as I looked at my watch and saw it was after 1:00 am her time. Considering she has a little one at home now, I knew that wouldn’t be appreciated.

But then, an idea came to me. I could call Amber on her cell phone, since that most likely wouldn’t be on, and I could just leave her a message. I thought it’d be really funny to say ‘Hey, they’re playing our song!’ and hold up the phone for her to hear the song.

So I grabbed my cell phone again, dialed her cell number, and strained to hear the ringing and her recorded greeting. And right as the beep went off, the band finished the song. Thinking the message wouldn’t be nearly as funny without the background music, I hung up.

I got home around 1:00 am my time (2:00 am her time), and my home phone was ringing. It was Amber. Evidently, her cell phone had been on, but it was in the other room. It woke her up, and she saw that it was my number that had called, but that I didn’t leave a message.

Amber’s imagination started running wild, and she started thinking that I was in trouble.

“Oh, my God, you’re OK.” She said when I answered the phone. I apologized profusely for waking her up, and all she could say was that she had thought I was in trouble or had been abducted and that had been my one phone call for help. So then she had started contemplating calling the Reno EMS to report that I was in trouble. Or, she was thinking about calling information to get my brother’s number so that she could have him check up on me. Thankfully, she got a hold of me first.

And the really funny part about this whole scenario was that I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol at that bar. I was stone cold sober, and managed to wake my best friend up in the middle of the night because they were playing ‘our song’.

Oh, well. Maybe some day Amber and I can dance together to that song again. In the mean time, the next time I hear it, I’ll refrain from dialing her digits.

Here is my favorite quote regarding the Britney Spears marriage this past weekend. The quote is from the official “complaint for annulment”:

“Before entering into the marriage the plaintiff and defendant did not know each other’s likes and dislikes, each other’s desires to have or not have children, and each other’s desires as to state of residency. Upon learning of each other’s desires, they are so incompatible that there was a want of understanding of each other’s actions in entering into this marriage.” (Taken from this article.)

Now I’m sure everyone that gets married in a Vegas chapel has discussed the above. Really.

I guess Britney’s latest escapade has officially disproved the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority’s ad campaign of ‘What happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas’.

The theme of this year’s Christmas seemed to be nudity…. But I’ll start from the beginning of the story.

My holiday began with a trek through the Sierra mountains during a snow storm. Luckily, my work let me go a little early, but still, the normal 2 hour drive took almost 4 hours. It was snowing extremely hard at the top of the mountain, plus there was a ton of fog. Talk about excitement. I was white knuckling it the entire way.

I arrived in Folsom to find my brother and sister-in-law’s house smelling strongly of sugar. Mom and Jane had been baking up a storm, as there were all kinds of cookies and candies to behold. My nephew, Jack, greeted me with a hug, and the kid smelled of chocolate and had chocolate all over his face. Now really, isn’t that the perfect start to a holiday?!

That night, we had a dinner of prime rib, and every time we asked Jack if Santa was coming to see him, he’d say ‘Santa is right there’, pointing at the Santa decoration on the table.

It took Greg and Jane quite a while to get Jack to sleep that night because he was suddenly afraid of Santa, and whenever a dog ran past his room, he was convinced Santa had arrived.

Tucker was the only dog at the Cook family Christmas celebration without a stocking or gifts. Gosh, I’m a bad mother. But I told everyone that Tucker didn’t celebrate Christmas, and we determined that he must be a Jehovah’s Witness. Jane and Mom were nice enough to find a stocking for him and donate some of their dog’s Christmas presents to Tucker. What a lucky pooch.

Christmas morning began at 7 am, since we had a little one around. Jack was thrilled to discover that Santa had brought him a new bike, a rocking horse, and a sled that he called ‘a boat’. Jack soon became overwhelmed by all of the presents, and I had to start begging him to open another ’surprise’. After an hour intermission for breakfast, we finished opening packages around 11:00.

As the package opening orgy was winding down, I was sitting in front of the tree, and my brother was standing about 5 inches in front of me, basically putting his butt in my face. He stood there for a good minute, and I decided that something must be done about this situation. I made a mental note that he was wearing sweats and that it’d be easy to de-pants him.

And I did.

And it was easy.

And he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

So then, my face was five inches away from my brother’s butt-crack, and my poor sister-in-law got the frontal view. I am so sorry. No sister-in-law should ever be subjected to seeing that view of her brother-in-law.

I started frantically trying to shove his pants back up, but to no avail.

And damn, was it funny. We laughed and laughed, and I was clutching my stomach and rubbing the tears out of my eyes. He then tackled me and gave me a noogie as revenge.

That night, after a dinner that featured margaritas and tamales, we played Jane’s new game called Hillarium. I totally recommend this game. It is kind of like charades, but everyone is acting something out at the same time. I learned that my Mom doesn’t know who Darth Vader is and she doesn’t know what the Moonwalk is. Oh, and Dad thought that Mr. Rogers was Roy Rogers.

The next day, after a muddy mountain bike ride, I departed for Palo Alto to enjoy the antics of JB’s family. JB had decided that we would go on a hike in the mountains (OK, they’re really hills) around Palo Alto, so as soon as I arrived, we took off for the hike.

It was really beautiful up there. Despite the fact that I lived in Northern California for 3 months about 7 years ago, I had never seen the mountainous areas, and they are beautiful, lush forests with tons of ferns and moss growing on the trees. We hiked until sunset, and then headed back to his parents’ house.

As JB’s Mom was preparing dinner, JB started rubbing his shoulder, and soon realized that he had a tick.

Let the mayhem begin.

JB’s Mom took him into the bathroom to perform the extraction, and his dad, sister, and I followed to watch the procedure. I was utterly fascinated. Being a desert girl, I had never seen a tick in action.

And then he found another tick on his side.

That was when his Mom ordered him to strip down so that he could be searched for more ticks. And he promptly stripped down to his underwear, right in front of his entire family and me.

JB’s sister and I graciously left the room, trying to give the poor guy some privacy. Meanwhile, I went into the bathroom and checked myself, gratefully finding that I was tick-free.

After it was determined that JB didn’t have any more ticks on him, it was determined that he needed to go to Urgent Care to get an antibiotic shot to prevent Lyme disease. So JB and his Mom took off, and his father, sister and I decided to go ahead and eat without them.

I totally felt like I had ticks crawling all over me while I was sitting at the dinner table, and the feeling was only calmed after I went and changed all of my clothes.

JB and his Mom returned an hour and a half and one tetanus shot later. He’s going to be alright, folks.

On Saturday, after a long run with JB, we headed to San Francisco with his family to see Golden Gate Park and the Steinhart Aquarium. We saw some really cool fish and reptiles. My favorite fish were the flashlight fish that were in a dark tank… They have these spots under their eyes that light up. Totally cool. And JB’s Dad had a flashlight handy so that we could see what the actual fish looked like since all you could see in the dark tank were the flashing lights.

Saturday also happened to be JB’s parents’ 36th anniversary. I just have to say that I think it is so awesome that both my parents and JB’s parents have had very long, successful marriages. (My parents just celebrated their 40th anniversary this summer.) In today’s society, long marriages are truly something to be cherished and to be proud of. We celebrated at a wonderful restaurant called Bogies. It had a 50s French theme, and the food was absolutely incredible. Our dinner was topped off with a dessert of Crepes Suzette. Yum.

On Sunday, JB and I had decided to go on a bike ride so that he could show me the neighborhood. It turned out to be a 30 mile bike ride, but I saw some really incredible scenery. We went up into the hills and saw more beautiful forests and gurgling creeks. And I hit a top speed of 28 miles per hour on the way back down the hill.

Sunday night, the return drive that usually takes 4.5 hours took us almost 7 hours (OK, subtract the time we stopped for dinner and then stopped at Greg and Jane’s to pick up Tucker). We managed to hit another snow storm as we were driving through the Sierras, so I spent a good hour in four wheel drive driving through a winter wonderland.

So that’s pretty much the download. It was really hard to get back into the work groove today, but I’m really looking forward to another 4 day weekend this week. JB and I don’t really have any solid plans for New Year’s, but I’m actually looking forward to a bit of R&R since I’ve been on the go a lot lately.

Oh, and you readers of LynnetteCook.com will be glad to know that my brothers and sister-in-laws gave me a digital camera for Christmas, so this site will soon have many more photos for your enjoyment and entertainment.

My brother, Chuck, has what our family likes to call a ‘fleet’ of vehicles and motorized toys. He has many very nice vehicles, including a Trans Am, a Corvette, a Sierra, etc. But he has one vehicle that I like to call his White Trash Blazer.

And he does stuff like this with it:

He captioned that photo ‘I don’t like Civics’.

The Good News:

Scientists have discovered a Fossilised Crustacean Penis that is the oldest penis in the world. We can all rest easier knowing this. Really.

The bad news:

Drinking just a few alcoholic drinks a week will shrink your brain. So it’s your choice…. Drink some red wine to prevent a heart attack and shrink your brain, or don’t drink and increase the chance that you’ll have a heart attack.

Make up your minds, people! Google News rocks, by the way.

Happy Friday! Weekend plans are up in the air… The original plan was to go skiing, until it rained on the slopes last week. This weekend’s storm is forecasted to bring 2 feet of snow to the slopes, so perhaps I can venture out next weekend.

After I completed a project for a coworker, I e-mailed her to let her know I was finished.

Lynnette’s e-mail: Your wish is my command. It’s done.
The response: gimmetwentydollarsnow

I walked into the office today and our secretary said, ‘Lynnette, where is your stuff?’

I looked at her, and stopped, racking my brain trying to figure out what ’stuff’ to which she was referring.

Then the lightbulb went on. I had mentioned last week that we’re decorating our office for tonight’s Open House party in the theme of ‘An America’s Adventure Place Christmas’. The final touch of our decorations was to be my sporting equipment, representing the many adventures available in the Reno-Tahoe area.

So I turned around, got back in my truck and drove home. You should have seen the look on my neighbor’s face when I got out of my truck dressed in a red dress and high heels, opened my garage, and loaded my truck with a kayak, skis, golf clubs, and a mountain bike. I then got back in my truck and left.

It was loads of fun schlepping all of this equipment around in my dress, but luckily I managed to stay pretty clean. You can call me Reno-Tahoe Adventure Girl.

So I guess you’re all wondering how meeting JB’s parents went. Let’s just say that I spent my holiday weekend with great company, enjoyed excellent food, had incredible excursions to Carmel (we explored Point Lobos State Reserve) and San Francisco (we toured ships at the Maritime National Historic Park), and I’m sad to say the weekend went by way too fast.

And I only had 852 spam e-mails to delete from my work account this morning.

The highlight of this past weekend was a hike that JB and I took with the three dogs on Sunday afternoon. We went up to the Tahoe Rim Trail and hiked three miles up to an alpine lake. The Aspens were in full color, and there were greens and golds and reds all around us. It seemed that the further we got in on the trail, the more breathtaking it became.

When we got up to the lake, it was right before sunset, and the lake was a perfect mirrored reflection of the surrounding mountains and Fall color. We took a bunch of pictures, which I will post here… (It was JB’s camera, so we’ll see how long it takes him to develop the film and scan the images for me!) Our matching black and white lab mix dogs enjoyed fetching sticks in the water while JB’s Rott, Heidi, sat on the shore with us.

Now the funniest thing happened while we were out… I must preface this story by saying that my pooch, Tucker, is fascinated by hoses. Whenever there is water coming out of a hose, he is right there trying to bite the water. He’ll leap in and out of the stream trying to get a good bite.

Well, JB decided to, let’s put this nicely, ‘go see a man about a horse’. He was out of my view, but this is what I heard:

“Tucker, no. No, Tucker!!! TUCKER!!!”
*Tucker shaking, as dogs do after getting wet*

That’s when I said, “JB, did you just pee on my dog?”

His response was, “He was trying to kill the hose!!!”

So now I guess Tucker is JB’s dog, as he has been appropriately marked.

I seriously think I have found the most warped person on the Internet. I managed to stumble across The Date My Sister Project, where he sets his sister up on dates and then follows her around with spy equipment to document the dates.

I’m not quite sure why I got sucked in by this wacko, but then I discovered The Stinky Feet Diaries, where he infects himself with athlete’s foot, and The Fat Project, where he convinced two people to try to gain 30 pounds in 30 days.

Some people have too much time. Evidently, today I’m one of them because I read these projects in their entirety. I totally need to get a life.

I received the photo CD I purchased from the High School Reunion yesterday. Can you find me in this picture? You get double points if you can find Amber, too.

My sister-in-law just told me that my 2 year old nephew, Jack, got in one of his toy cars the other day and told her that he was “going to Reno to see Net”. (Net is what he calls me.) She also said that all red SUVs are “Net’s truck” in his world (I have a red Blazer).

That is so damn cute. I could just eat that kid. But I won’t.

I watched Old School this past weekend, and though it was extremely corny, I really enjoyed the references to the red Trans Am in the movie, known as the Red Dragon. I totally need a shirt like this:

I really enjoyed this comment about my Naked Rock Stacker post. It proves that I’m not crazy…

Last Friday, I went to the beach at Lake Tahoe with a friend. The beach we went to is known for being a nude beach, so we weren’t suprised to see a few women showing skin when we arrived.

However, there was one woman that really intrigued me. She had to be in her mid-40s, and she was bottom-less. (I think going bottom-less is pretty unusual, especially in a setting where you could get a lot of sand in places where sand isn’t meant to be.) She was completely shaved and had a huge glinting silver piercing down there…

The entire time we were at the beach, she methodically waded about 2 feet into the water, and was stacking rock upon rock until she had at least twenty rock stacks that were a few feet above the water.

She made quite a production out of this. She would spread her legs wide, and bend ALL the way over, making sure to give everyone a clear view of her you know what, and then would do almost a ballet dance step as she stacked the rock and then looked for another rock to stack.

I didn’t think much of this Naked Rock Stacker until a few days later. I looked out the window