Tuesday night I will be headed out to the Jack's Mannequin concert with C$ and G-Sauce. I'm super excited because I absolutely love Jack's Mannequin. However I have come to the sad realization that not a lot of people know who Jack is. They've never heard the music! I had assumed, and apparently erroneously, that they were pretty mainstream, that they played on the radio quite a bit and the others also enjoyed the music. But so far, every time I've told someone I'm going to the concert I sit and wait for the ency to glaze over their eyes, rather they look at me and say, "Who's that? What do they sound like?" So here is a sample of what Jack's Mannequin sounds like.
Side Note: For those of you who don’t know I spent most of my life avoiding hamburgers from any establishment. The cause is unknown, the only thing I do know is that I never had a desire to order a hamburger from anywhere. In fact, I avoided it at all cost. This is a recent development of mine that came about due to necessity I’m sure, I just can’t remember the necessity.
So last night a group of us went to Home Team Grill for the half off burgers. I had invited Orin and Jordan to come along but they were slow movers and I had assumed that they were not coming. But then I got a call from Jordan (after we had ordered) that they would be joining us (I know that in this moment this doesn’t seem pivotal to the story, and really, it’s not – but it makes the story flow better when I try to be as honest and direct as possible). So they got there after our food had arrived (they were down the street what took so long? But anyway). We pulled up a table and then waited for the waitress to come back over. Orin was asking what she looked like so we could get her attention, but there were so many and well, they all looked the same to me when they came out separately. She finally comes up to take their drink orders and when she left Orin made a comment that she was beautiful. Which made me laugh because he has mentioned before how he feel in love with a waitress and it seems to be a regular occurrence for him to fall in love with girls who serve him food…I just can’t put my finger on the why of it all, hmmm.
So I start to encourage him to say something to her. He says he just gets nervous and shuts down. Then we had a check for her that was left on the table we pulled over so I had it under the ketchup bottle so it wouldn’t blow away (p.s. we were sitting outside) and she came over and
But they weren't the only ones there, I feel rude not shouting out to Bryan, Kelli, and Caitlin! Without whom I wouldn't have had the rant on the over empowerment of the government (not as serious as it sounds, but seriously ridiculous) we were talking about dumb laws, because laws are usually there because someone did it and we feel the need to regulate it right? Well...why in the world is it a state or town's business if you want to carry an ice cream cone in your back pocket on a Sunday (seriously Georgia? You want to enact that law?) I just got confused as to when it became important to mandate common sense. So anyway, we were having a good time talking about what we thought was a law, that you couldn't cross the state line with a chicken on your head. I tried to imagine why that would be illegal, I think I would need to know the why to be a law abiding citizen, let's face it, I'm not up for blindly following politicians. Can the chicken cross the state line with you? Just not on your head? Can you just not have a live chicken on your head at the time of crossing? Can said chicken be on your head before and after crossing the state line?? Oh my goodness, I could devote a whole post to dumb laws so I will be shutting up now. Thanks you and good night.
In honor of this momentous occasion I have decided to present you with the ten things of chocolate goodness that I used to adore (and now remember as vaguely as my first love).
My view of the river when I finally sat down to write.
The train that distracted me and I thought, "Oh Jacob (my nephew) would love to see this!
...and in case you are visually impaired it is that this is a trileg bench...not a good idea
I have a ton more pictures of flowers, but I figure this is enough.
Well, that's it for today, hope you enjoyed!
My roommates and I are having a bit of a problem with neighbors. It's to be expected, not only do we live in the suburbs, but we also live in a cul-de-sac.
Neighbors are "friendlier" there, but a lot more nosey as well. We should have figured when the two little boys that live across the street started to spill the beans about the neighbors. They knew everyone, in every house, and who drove which cars. It didn't take them long to learn all of our names and which cars we drove. If the children are like that then what must the adults be like?
Don't get me wrong, I like my neighbors. I'm not used to their level of friendliness, but I like them. Neighbor to the left...whose name I never remember is always looking out for us. He let's us know if one of the tires in the car is getting low, etc. Neighbor to the right however, is just creepy. I call him Ted Bundy and I wish that he wouldn't hang out in his driveway in nothing but what appears to be a pair of swimming trunks.
Anyway, on to my week. It all start Sunday morning when the cops were called on my dog. That's right, Chubbers that little fiend. 
He's totally going through his teenage rebellious stage and on Sunday apparently struck the final nerve with one of my neighbors. He likes to get out of the yard (his nickname is Houdini). We quickly brought him back in but less than an hour later there was a loud, heart quickening knock on the door. My roommate went to answer it and was face to face with a cop...never saw his car, but that's alright...why would a cop park outside of the house he was going to? And why was I looking around for his car while he was talking to me? Cause he was talking to me only a few minutes after he knocked on the door. If I can't keep Chubbers locked away then I could be hit with some serious fines. I understood the gravity of the situation, but I was still bugged about it.
I got over it though, I make sure that Chubber's can't get out and pretty soon I'll fix the back porch so that he can't jump right off or push through my makeshift "fence". The rest of the week was going moderately well. I was apparently oblivious to the notice taped to our door talking about our grass and the "friendly" stranger who came knocking saying that he heard we needed our grass cut.
Eh...it probably was...but still. Then she says that the notice says we have until the 28th to mow the grass or we will be fined $250. Have I ever said that I hate the government? Seriously? You can regulate the grass length? I was a sociology major, I get the whole exorbitant fines to keep people in line, especially the lower class since they really can't afford to pay such fines. But I also have a little pride in me that only too well remembers conflict theory. That and I've always kind of been looking for a good fight. Part of me didn't want to mow the lawn just because someone had a problem with our yard. One of our neighbors ratted us out, no doubt the same one trying to put my dog in the clink.
I....can't see it, I want to see it, but I can't. It's a printer. She was right though, the lack of buttons is a problem. I smile and tell her that it's our printer, and then I walk her to the proper fax machine (not even telling her about ours because even though this thing is right out there in the open people don't see it...kind of like when I dance). Once she lays eyes on the fax machine she laughs. I tell her she's not the first (and she's not, it's how i knew so quickly that the problem was not that the fax machine had somehow swallowed it's buttons, but that instead she had stepped up to use our printer for a function it was unfamiliar with and unequipped for). It was just a bright spot in the morning, not that the morning was ghastly, it's Friday, how could it not automatically be a good day? Barring, of course, the death of loved ones, car accidents, computer crashes, break-ups, cell phone catastrophes, and being chased by squirrels...but those are things that tend to wait for Mondays anyway. Pretty much it was just a good laugh that only enhanced an already smooth sailing day.Please pass this on to your staff and ensure this message is communicated.
...Smoking is a bad habit anyway. I don't know, maybe if you had read how polite and professional the previous e-mails had been, or maybe there's the escalation involved...but when she whipped out the "lingering smell of cigarette smoke" and the "folks" I knew she was ticked.
Okay, I get it, I'll stop posting for a while.
when I put the pictures on my computer, and by then it was too late to get pictures of him! Tommy however was right there for the camera, that kid is a ham. He sees the camera and he smiles and says, "Cheese!"
in front of you and you might even have made eye contact with them already but you pretend you haven't the foggiest where they are. Theo's "almost ten" as he puts it so he should just learn to get over it. Theo is 8 by the way, but he thinks he is almost ten, to which I replied, "Yeah, and I'm almost 30." The best part is though, Theo bought a package of Reese's pieces for Bryan and he hid those a lot better than he hid mine. We wandered around the whole house looking for another bright orange box, expecting it to be just as easy to find as mine. Where was it? In the family room underneath a pile of blankets...cause that would be my first guess. The best part of 
course being that Theo forgot where he hid them, otherwise we would have found the box sooner. 
the blue peep because I have an unnatural affinity to blue food. Anne is the brown (or chocolate) peep at the top with the bikini, she's brown because she has an aversion to colored food (especially blue)...in a way we have a very symbiotic relationship, I'll eat her blue food and she'll eat my chocolate.do something to off set the lack of brain power there could be horrible ramifications, such as a lack of oxygen to the brain cells and an inability to function past
This leads to the fact that I have nothing to blog about, but I must blog for sanity's sake.
So here's your story for the day. It's a tale told by an airhead, full of sound and dullness, signifying nothing (50 blog bucks to the first person who can tell me where that came from...granted it's a variation of course, which is why the price is so high. Come on people 50 BBs (which of course are like the points in "Who's Line Is It Anyway" - they have no real worth)). Where was I? Oh yeah, my story.
So at work I am in charge of the "resume" inbox. I get first view of every resume sent in for possible job openings. I don't really care for them, I barely skim them, and today I don't even want to print them out. It doesn't help that I don't have a boss or anyone to turn them over to so why print them? Where will they go? Nowhere that's where. So today I rebelled. I refuse to print out the one resume I have in that inbox. But just so I won't completely forget it's there I set it up in Outlook so that it looks like there is a new message. What I didn't anticipate was the fact that on slow days I get really excited to see the blue (1) next to the "inbox". Therefore, without thinking I go to click on the "inbox" and then the message I have been trying to preserve becomes "read" rather than "unread". So I set it to be "unread"...again, and then twenty minutes later fall for it...again. I'm trying not to look at my Outlook so that I won't be duped anymore.
Wait...hold the phone, another story for you. As I said in my title no one works on Good Friday. Which means that the underwriters in the company don't have brokers to talk to, which in turn means that they are sitting at work with nothing to do (nice to know I'm not alone). My prediction was that while they had nothing "productive" to do they would start noticing things. They might find that the water in the bathroom doesn't warm up fast enough, that something is wrong with their chair...they might decide to finally look at their pay stub, or to change their tax amount. All of these lead to them calling, e-mailing, or dropping by the department. It's all fine and good, I don't mind helping people, but we get bombarded at times like these, because people forget that you might have something to do (and as it turns out, I do...it's just boring).
I was standing at the front desk today, talking to my friend and I noticed one of the underwriters come out and stand by the elevators. Our lobby has four elevators, I've written about them before. <- that's a link. Anywho, he gets on the elevator to the left and it closes and takes him away, and five minutes later he is getting off the elevator on the right. He probably just forgot something and had to turn around and go get it, but I would rather think that he was just that bored. Or perhaps was honing is magician skills. Either one works for me.
Oh and just to prove my point, I've already had someone come and ask where they can get a new W-4 form. Let the games begin.
Except of course, slightly more intimidating because he's showing you his shovel, and what do you do with shovels??? You bury people.
...notice one of the members from Smokey's gang in the background. That doe crossed the line and with this poster they are sending a message to us all. Don't cross the Smokey Bears of the world. Smokey stands ready with his shovel to bury the evidence. The "shameful waste" is really referring to the fact that they shouldn't have to off the deer, just like they hope they don't have to do the same to us. But only you can prevent that.
Anyway, as Connie is cleaning my teeth she tells me that they are the perfect size for my face and that they are a nice shape. Thank you Connie. Then she gives me a goody bag (for reals people) . I normally just get a toothbrush, but I got floss, a toothbrush, kiddie fluoride something, Listerine (orange), and a flier...in a bag! It was like leaving a kid's party.
Yeah. I realize that this is a completely random post, so I'm sorry about that. But I couldn't sit back and deny the half-naked truth of Smokey the Bear any longer. I promise (scratch that I don't do promises) that the next post won't be as weird.
Well, not this little guy. Had I had my wits about me and my camera in the front seat rather than the back I would have taken a picture, but as was, I was camera-less...and witless to be quite honest. Bees aren't exactly my insect of choice to have in my car when driving at 45+ mph. He was crawling up the window, and then would fall back to the little ledge, and then try to crawl back up. He was probably freaking out as much as I was. There he was, minding his own business Saturday morning flying around my house and I have the nerve to open the car door and take him miles away from home. Miles to a bee can mean spending a lifetime alone, hive-less, like getting stranded in a foreign country. Then, he sees the outside, but can't get to it. He thinks he is making progress but the window is too steep. He probably feared he would die there, so close and yet so far away from the outside, from freedom, like a fly in an Emily Dickinson poem.
