Thank you for my festive sweater!*

It's that time of the year again, the time to make New Year's resolutions. I like having the whole rhyming theme. There was "Get a date in '08" where my main goal was to get an even number of dates. I failed - I got 5 but couldn't seem to seal the deal for 6. Well, okay, my main goal was to get a date, in the which I succeeded. But upon getting 5 dates I felt I couldn't live with an odd number (call me OCD, I don't care). Some of you are thinking how sad it is that I could only get 5 dates in one year...it gets sadder, that was considered a very successful year.

Then it was"'bout time in '09" I didn't have anything in particular in mind for this, but I did get a boyfriend, and that certainly earned an "about time". Especially if we follow the theme for the previous year.


This year I am going with "Do it again in 2010" (pronounced 'twenty ten'). What 'it' is I'm unsure, but you know, leaving all that to chance in '09 worked pretty well for me. No need to get specific. My other options was "Get more men in 2010" but I don't want to come across as that kind of girl. Besides, a lot of my goals are surprisingly (sarcasm) repeats of the years before. You could look at this in two ways. The first: That they are repeats because I failed; the second: that they are repeats because they worked so well. Or Three: that they are repeats because they are so good and I failed.


Goal number one: Read one book a month - A mix - I failed and passed, if you average things out I passed. When the months were good and the nights were lonely I did an excellent job reading. I read so much that I made up for the time when the nights/months were busy.


Goal number two: Finish writing my own story. Not "my own story" like my memoirs, but the fictional story I am currently writing. I have a feeling the end of the year (2010) could sneak up on my and I may never finish it.

Goal three: Become more handy: I want to change my own tire, I want to fix things around the house (but actually know I am doing them right). I still want to build something, maybe start simple with a bookcase, but I want to build something with my own hands.

Goal four: Budget. Yup, still on there. Some months I am amazingly good at...tracking what I spend. I need to get better about telling myself 'no' to those impulse buys and keeping the limits I set for myself in different areas.


Goal Five: Have more self discipline. I'm what you would call lazy...to a fault. As if lazy could ever be considered as anything but. I would like to set goals and stick to them, I would like to wake up early to work out, go to bed early enough to no longer have these circles under my eyes. This really should be Goal Number 1 if we look at it on a scale of importance, but we don't, so it stays here. Once this goal is begun the others should be easier to handle. Like learning Latin before all the other languages (or was that Spanish...I don't know I took sign language).

Goal Six: Get my PHR designation: Technically I am cheating by putting this one down because I have already signed up for the class...but that doesn't guarantee that I will sign up for the exam, much less pass it, so this is a 'must' as far as goals go. Get that designation!

Goal Seven: Pay Attention! I am the girl who is lucky she knows that Obama is president, Michael Jackson died, ...and that's all I can think of. That's how out of touch I am. I'm not going to start watching TV or anything, but I could make more of an effort to know what's going on in the world. I wish they had a Current Events for Dummies that you could have delivered to your door each day, but they don't, so I have to be proactive and get out there and read!


Goal Eight: Lose Weight: It just isn't a New Year's resolution list without this one. I'm doing good so far, but I could always lose more.

Goal Nine: Floss: Okay, maybe I'm having a hard time thinking of more goals, but it's a good one.

Goal Ten: Be bold: Not to try and steal Ford's amazing motto, but seriously, I think I lack a spine most of the time. I'm too timid when I need to be more brazen (most of this all has to do with work, but there are other areas too). I need to stop being afraid that I am going to get in trouble for demanding more (i.e. a response to someone when I send them an e-mail or leave a voicemail...I didn't do it for my health buddy). Ahem - as I sit here waiting for a response from someone at work, blogging rather than going and confronting, that's why it's a goal...for next year.

There you have it peeps, ten goals for the next year.

Only at the precipice do we evolve.*

I got a flat tire today. I didn't notice until I was home. Scratch that, I didn't notice until Julie called me to tell me that I had a flat tire, then I went and checked and sure enough, a flat one. I called Joanna, Ben, my parent's house, Kathryn, then I tried the house again. Nothing. So I finally called my dad. I can't tell you what a relief it was when he picked up the phone. There is something about calling my dad when I am in peril - no matter how minuscule that peril is. He wasn't even near the house, he was at Lowe's on Route 1 and he said he would leave there and come on over. Then he came and changed my tire. Gotta love dads.

We noticed while changing the tire that there was a nail in the top part of the tire. I couldn't figure where that would have come from and then it hit me, Kroger (throws fist in the air, face towards the heaven's, curse you Kroger parking lot!). They recently completed construction on their gas station and the spot I got last night must have been too close to the former action. Isn't it incredible how one little nail can actually get stuck in a tire? I mean, the conditions have to be just right in order for that nail to pierce through the tire tread. (p.s. it is also while he his changing the tire that he mentions he hasn't had a chance to call his HVAC guy to go look at the house I want. I told him that was a clever ploy, using the 'dropped everything to come change your tire' card to tell me he hadn't called the guy...tricky man).

Anyway, once this is identified, Dad tells me I can go to Ronnie's to get the nail pulled, the tire patched, and maybe for a little extra get that tire put back on in place of the dinky spare. So I do just that. They said it would be half an hour wait, I'm already late getting back to work so I check to see if they are open tomorrow, they are, but I should call ahead. In the meantime I go to Pep Boys to see if they can get it done faster since they usually have a team of guys. I have avoided the Pep Boys since the last time I had something amiss with a tire because I felt awkward. There was a guy there who was taking lunch orders for the people who work there and I was just waiting to drop off my keys and he tells me that the wait will be awhile, and asks if he can pick me anything up, on him. Don't get me wrong, it's a super nice gesture, but he didn't offer it to the other three people waiting, and then his colleagues call him out on it while I'm standing there. Needless to say, I associate the place with the utmost awkward sensations. I step into the Pep Boys and wait fifteen minutes. I am kicking myself because adding the travel time and the waiting just to be acknowledged time I could have my tire already being worked on at Ronnie's. After some rude exchanges between two coworkers and five phones calls being answered the girl asks how she may help me. I tell her the situation and she says it will be an hour and half to two hour wait! No thank you, it's almost 4 o'clock and I have to get back to work, if not to simply warm my chair - I still need to be there. So I tell her I'll just keep driving on the spare and get it taken care of tomorrow.

So Ronnie's in the wee hours of the morning it is!

Man I hope 2010 calms down for me...chances are unlikely, but a girl can dream can't she?

May I admire you again today?*

Saturday I went to see Sherlock Holmes with the family (really good by the way, at least I think so). I rode with my parents to and from the theater and on the drive home we passed a house that was for sale. Right next to the 'for sale' sign was a sign that read 'I'm beautiful on the inside!'

My first thought: Ah, the sweet spirit house.

For those of you who don't know, sweet spirit is a term often used to describe a girl who may not exactly be attractive on the outside, but she's a really nice person. At least that is the way it has been explained to me. Anyway, it made me smile because that totally goes into my whole theory about how house hunting is just like dating. Then it made me smile more because somehow I can relate everything to dating (i.e. baking, shopping at thrift stores, and now house hunting).

With that being said, I have fallen in love and feel more than ready to take a leap into the biggest commitment of my life (thus far). The house I went to look at yesterday is just as adorable in real life as it is in the pictures. Granted, it's got that, "I want to buy all new appliances right away" feel, but that's what I like to call 'potential'...plus, what house comes perfectly fit for you? None. I really want this house, cross your fingers and say some prayers for me!

Would you want to see Dustin Hoffman save the Alamo?*

Today we went to my uncle's for a Christmas open house - which was scheduled for before Christmas but it snowed and was postponed. While there, the most intriguing conversation ensued. I made a ham biscuit, except it wasn't on a biscuit. There was some comment made by Samantha and then we were all wondering what the bread before us was. We know what a biscuit is, that's easy enough. But what is the different between a bun and a roll? We know about dinner rolls and hamburger buns, but sometimes there doesn't seem to be a difference (especially rolls and buns of the potato variety). We asked Joanna because she worked at a bakery in her younger, working days, she didn't know. Mike, a chef at a catering company, didn't know - unless he did and he just kept quiet for pure amusement. And what the heck are hot cross buns? Not knowing this made it more difficult to tell what the difference is. And yes, we spent quite some time as a family talking about this. I think it's easy to see now how I spend so much of my life dwelling on pointless topics.

However, you may find one day that this very topic comes up at your dinner table, so to prepare you for that moment I have googled the information. Just a warning, DO NOT google "buns"...add 'bread' in there, but don't just put 'buns'. Okay, let's get on with it.

Buns - are made from sweetened, yeast dough enriched with butter, often with raisins or spices added and are glazed or decorated before baking.

Rolls - are less sweet, or unsweetened, and are not enriched.

That brings us to an important question, and I feel certain you all know where I am going with this, but what the heck is a cinnamon roll then? It is sweet with spices (is cinnamon not a spice? -which, pardon the randomness but 'does not a buttock compare to a people matter?'*) and often has raisins, yet, it is not a cinnamon bun (though there is the cinnabun...hmmm, curiouser and curiouser*) Am I to understand that a cinnamon roll is an exception to the rule?

Also, when did the popped collar come back into style? I feel certain that it hasn't, but this afternoon my cousin purposefully popped his collar. I put it down and seconds later he comes into the room with a popped collar! I told him that I wouldn't stand for popped collars in this house, but in the end I had to threaten him in order to get that collar unpopped. He wanted his remote control car and I happened to have it in my hands while staring at his hideous collar so I told him if he wanted the car the collar had to come down and stay down. He said, "Okay, but what it I am playing and it pops." ...because we all know that sometimes collars pop themselves. So I told him that he had to stay vigilant, I didn't want to glimpse that collar up the whole afternoon, and if I did, the car would be mine. It worked - the rest of the time I spend in the same vicinity as he there was no sign of a popped collar.

And just as a self serving side note. It really does bug me that I have 28 followers and not something more complete...like 30. So 30 blog bucks to new followers and also to the people who "recruit" them, the new follower would simply have to leave a comment saying who referred them. We'll see if that works. Desperate? No...just taking advantage of the competitive people who read my blog. Muhaha!

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

...and then I walked through the Lincoln tunnel*

Dear Blue Bunny,



I have often found myself enjoying your ice-cream which still seems to sell an actual half gallon for a fair price, unlike two of your unnamed competitors. Being an individual who does not consume chocolate products I am always on the look out for sans chocolate ice cream flavors that do not involve some kind of fruit combination. I am a fan of the classic vanilla bean with real bean specks, Ben and Jerry's Cinnabun, and the seasonal Pumpkin and Peppermint. So you can imagine my surprise and complete joy when I came across your Peanut Butter Cookie ice cream. How I have dreamt about a cookie ice cream that didn't involve chocolate! I have wanted ice cream makers to have "brown sugar cookie dough" ice cream and "Golden oreo cookies and cream" but there doesn't seem to be the market for it. I must admit that peanut butter cookies did not find their way into my mental idea pit, but upon seeing it I marvelled at how they hadn't before!


I quickly purchased the ice cream and thought of little else until I was finally able to scoop some into a bowl and partake! Oh it was exquisite, pure peanut butter joy that my tongue has never before experienced from a carton. But then...then I came to what I will refer to as, the cookie chunk. It has been years since I have had cookies and cream ice cream, but I feel most ardently that the cookies within that ice cream are softened, for they must be to match the softness of the ice cream that encapsulates it. The cookie chunk however has had no softening. To be fair I feel certain that the cookie chunk on its own is marvelous, probably best warm, but never in my life have I ever had a peanut butter cookie that hard, and within the gentle folds of the ice cream? I shudder to think that in someone's mind they thought a consumer would be delighted to find in the midst of their soft ice cream a veritable land mind of potential tooth breaking cookie chunks. Some say that they must be frozen, that is why they are so hard. However, I have tested this hypothesis, I have left them out at room temperature, but nothing seems to change these hard hearted cookie chunks.

Do yourselves and me a favor, soften the cookie chunks! As is, I find it is as though you have concocted peanut butter flavored rocks! I would very much like to continue my purchase of peanut butter cookie ice cream, but I find it goes against every moral fiber of my being to purchase it when it houses such abhorrent little chunks. Please write when the cookie chunks have been sufficiently softened and I would love to do business with you and your peanut butter cookie ice cream once more.

Sincerely,



Lildonbro
Confection Connoisseur

The House of Fug

For those of you who don't know I'm house hunting again...did I already say it on this blog? If so, I'm sorry for repeating myself. This is the house I am going to go look at on Monday morning.

I try not to get emotionally attached with the houses before I see them, the last one was such a disappointment. It looked nothing like the pictures and said nothing about the indoor swimming pool (i.e. the flooded basement). The other realtor said to not freak out because there will be a little water in the basement, she did not say that I could baptize grown men in the depths of the murky water. She also didn't mention that the washer/dryer hookups are located beneath that water, so...good luck.

Not having an exact location in mind where I will be living in a year I find it incredibly easy to imagine what it will be like to live in this house (this yellow house, not the pool house). That's a bad thing really, it's getting emotionally involved with a house I haven't even met. It's akin to crushing on a boy that you know nothing about. He looks good on the outside and from a distance, but until you walk through and see for yourself what he is really like you shouldn't let yourself get too involved...you shouldn't but you can't help yourself, you make him better then he is in your mind. No matter how many times you do that and tell yourself not to anymore, you still do it...frustrating.

But we'll see, maybe I will fall more in love with this house on Monday morning, maybe I'll walk through the doors and have to work incredibly hard not to let my feelings of abhorrence show on my face. Who knows.

We'll see.

If I ever get out of here I'm getting my eyes lasered*

It snowed. It really snowed. I had my doubts because well, this is Virginia and I haven't seen it snow this close to Christmas since I was a kid. I had yesterday off, which is good because I was able to get my errands done. I was driving around and thought all the traffic was due to Christmas shopping. Apparently I'm not really in to the whole, know what's going on around you bit.

I went over to my parent's after my errands and hung out with my sister, who decided her children need some kind of toboggan (which for some reason makes me think of Tobias the never nude*) so we braved it and went to Wal-mart...we went to Wal-mart at 4:30 on a Friday when they were calling for several feet of snow. I didn't know until that moment that I was harboring suicidal thoughts. On the way there we passed a certain point in the mall (probably where Santa's little workshop was encapsulated with fake snow and vertically challenged men and women dressed as elves) and the heaven's opened to release white, powdery snow. By the time we sat through each stop light at least twice and made it through the parking lot to find a spot the snow was coming down pretty thickly. We didn't find a toboggan, or a scrapper, but I grabbed some essentials such as double stuffed golden oreos and frozen pizzas. Then we headed back to the house and the snow had accumulated pretty quickly.

I took this picture after about an hour of snow. Takes me back to college, ah Rexburg, how I miss thee. I drove home under the speed limit the whole way, which is impressive but I think the imminent danger of spinning out in the snow kept me cautious (thank you I-15 for that thrilling and absolutely pant wetting experience).

The problem for any pet owner...mostly just dog owners, in the snow is that most of them who haven't had much experience in the snow find they don't trust the stuff. I mean, their backyards are literally transformed, it's super white, bright, and releases little time bombs of freezing cold moisture that latch on to every inch of your pet that it can. So...understandably they'd rather hold it then go out into the snow. Such is the case with my dog. He had to go to the bathroom last night but refused to leave the porch, in fact, he refused to go on the porch but I pushed him out the door, quickly closing it behind him. He stared pitifully (like poison, pitiful, pathetic*) up at me for a few moments, then he glanced at the side of the porch he jumps over to escape the yard, I could see in his face he was wondering if it would be worth it. Jumping was taking a big chance, he had no idea if this white stuff was just in our yard or if it had attacked the world he knew beyond the gate. He slowly started to walk over, trying to call my bluff, which he did. I opened the door and he came running back in. Then, this morning he needed to go (because he held it all night) and I took him to the door. Still nothing, he wouldn't go.

So I got bundled up, walked him to the door and I went on the porch first. Of course I took my camera with me. He stood in the doorway looking like this for a couple of minutes...

Finally I cheered him on until he came outside and went down into the yard.

He kept holding up his back leg to try and keep it from getting wet...why that one leg, I'm not sure, but it was funny to see what my dog would look like if he were a tripod. A few minutes after we came back in he had to go out again (remember, he held it the whole night). So I took him to the door but didn't go out with him...I had to give my dog a pep talk, seriously. I reminded him that he's done it before and he can do it again. He finally ran out the door, followed the path he had already made in the snow, did his business, ran back (as a tripod) to the porch, tried to jump over the snow covered steps onto the porch and slide right past the door. He stopped just before the barricade on the porch and then made his way to the door. It was like watching an intense action scene on a movie!! Not really, but I wanted it to sound cooler then it was because I found so much entertainment in it.

I absolutely love being snowed in. It's makes being lazy acceptable.

Taking a chance on an unknown kid*

Addendum to my nicknames: Donbron (most guys at church), D-money (work), and The Brow (Amber)...happy now? :P

Onward blogger!

Tuesday night I did one of the best things I could ever do, I indulged Elaina Monster Truck Butterface in one of her crazy desires. Mentos and coke.

Then Chris taught us fire breathing.

In case you were wondering about Chris's outfit it's because he didn't want to get his clothes dirty...he doesn't just walk around like that.

Elaina got pretty excited about it and wanted to try it out too.

The flash made her face too white, but hopefully you can see the cornstarch damage.

Thus ends this chapter of the adventures of Butterface.

What's in a name?*

Ah Sawyer, the king of nicknames, how we wish we were as clever as he. But alas, we do not have multiple writer's comprising our wit. Le sigh. Now on to the blog.

This past weekend was the ultimate weekend of nicknames. Four young women were privileged to receive new and mean names.

Contestant #1 - Elaina "give me as many nicknames as you can" D (last names restricted since this is a public blog). Elaina just received the nickname of Monster Truck not even a week ago, but on Saturday night she received the name of 'Butterface' as in the "We like everything about her Butterface" origin.

Contestant #2 - Anne "I never had a nickname' B. Anne was crowned with the name of Sweet Spirit.

Contestant #3 - (That's me!) Jessica ' I lost count of the nicknames' Donbro. After incorrectly quoting Mean Girls fourteen million times in a row (It's not "that's the fugliest skirt I've ever seen' it's that's the 'ugliest f-ing skirt' dang it) I unwittingly resurrected "Fugly" amongst my friends and am now known as "Queen Fug."

Contestant #4 - Caitlin 'I wanna chill with you guys' B. Sunday evening Caitlin got a little jealous that Butterface, Sweet Spirit, and I were calling each other by our new negative names and wanted in. It took some time, but Elaina came up with Dumps - short for Dump Truck.

It got me thinking about nicknames though, especially when Elaina 'monster truck' 'butterface' e-mailed me the next day and was like, "Can my new nickname be L.A.?" It brings up two important questions.

1 - How many nicknames can you have?

2 - Are you allowed to give yourself nicknames and if so, do they really stick?

I've had many nicknames in my sordid past. Paduka, D, D-lite, McCormick, etc., now Queen Fug. I don't know if I have ever tried to give myself a nickname, though I have tried fruitlessly to initiate the usage of 'D' here in Virginia (I guess you can even take a nickname you received in college but can't implement it on the home front). I just feel like you can't really give yourself the nickname and expect it to stick, I think because it's something you really want to happen, so by natural law - it doesn't. I feel like a nickname is started by a friend and then it catches on because that friend likes the nickname so much and keeps using it, sometimes you don't even like the nickname. You think I was all about being called Queen Fug?? Not really, but it has quickly grown on me...mostly because they call me a queen.

I've lost where I was going with that.

It twas, SOAP posioning!*

I just stapled my sweater. There's a reason, though I don't know if it's considered a good one. I woke up late this morning (not my reason), I mean "work starts at 8:30 and it's 8:55" late. So I grabbed a skirt and a sweater and got dressed as quickly as my groggy mind would allow. I called the boss and the coworker to let them know I'm a horrible person and headed into work. Luckily I live 10 minutes from work so no big deal. I get to work, jump right in, want to sit at my desk and cry because for some reason I am hating this time of year right now. Then I go to the first floor to go to the bathroom because the first floor bathroom is usually unoccupied and I don't like to run into a lot of employees when I rolled out of bed (this happens from time to time). I looked in the mirror for the first time because I feel I should start looking decent some time today. That's when I noticed the hole in my sweater, up by the neck. It's a turtleneck so I attempt to cover it with all that extra fabric but the fabric won't stay, as though my sweater is trying to embarrass me. Someone comes into the bathroom so I head upstairs and try to fix it in the third floor bathroom. It's not going to work. I note the time and when I'll be able to go home for lunch and attempt to sew the hole shut. I figured if I just stay at my desk it won't bother me, but I figured wrong. My fingers kept going to it, imagining the hole a lot bigger than it was and I tried to think what I could use in the meantime.

I stared at paperclips, wishing they would magically change into safety pins, but alas, they never did. I tried to tuck the lips of the hole under each other, but they wouldn't stick. So in a moment where I was clenching the sweater with my fingertips, willing them to merge back together I looked upon my stapler and a thought occurred to me. I grabbed the stapler and tried to stick the bulk of it down my neck so that the fabric would be between it, but the sweater was too thick and how do you play that one off should someone walk by? Finally I squeezed the fabric and fed it through the stapler until I was certain it was in there and then I stapled it. One staple. I used the turtle neck part to cover up the staple, which happens to catch the fabric nicely and keep it in place (I don't really know because I haven't looked at it, but in my mind this is working out perfectly). I think it will hold until lunch.

Its just like talking, except longer and louder, and you move your voice up and down.*

Dear Santa,

I've been a semi-good girl this year, I promise. I've only gotten two traffic tickets, only one major fight, I slapped someone as you remember (not that it was you, I certainly didn't mean to imply that) - but they deserved it. There were a few other no-nos but I'm hoping we can forgive and forget especially with the holiday season already upon us. I've eaten plenty of peppermint ice-cream and I promise to make you some sugar cookies for Christmas Eve.

With that in mind, here is my Christmas list, as usual, I don't expect everything on the list. There is always my birthday and next year.

A popcorn tin - you know what I'm talking about! I know you enjoy a good popcorn tin from time to time. The kind with three different flavors; carmel, cheese, and butter. But if you could find a tin that is sans butter and double carmel or cheese I would really be grateful.

A watch - That's right, a watch. A cheap one since I lose them or break them quickly. I'm tired of looking at my cell phone to know the time and for some reason I just won't buy myself one.

The BBC North and South - Oh...Mr. Thornton, er...um, I mean, what a good movie! I asked for this last year, but I got something else from the list instead so I don't mind, I just figure I need to keep it on the list because...well...it's still on the list.

A home of my own - this one can take more time, but by next Christmas would be nice, I'm really ready to start being a grown-up.

Little Debbie Christmas Trees and Candy Cane Hershey Kisses - As usual, I would like to stock up on these limited items to last me through until next year (or as close as possible).

A good book - I don't have a specific one in mind this year, I know I normally give you a list but I own most of them now from last year and they were good. I'm open to suggestions from the Claus family library.

Tools - doesn't matter what kind, just some nice, shiny, preferably red, tools. Oh, and a project to use them with.

I hope that you are having a wonderful holiday season and that you are getting your fill of all the limited holiday candy and desserts. I have a few other requests I would like to discuss with you further, you know where I am, please come over whenever you have a chance and we can talk about the other items on my list. However, if you are not the patron saint of all wishful thinking please send me in the direction of the right one. Thank you and Merry Christmas.

That will teach me to wear white pants after labor day.*

10 points for title
15 additional points for saying the next line...I love that line.

I just wanted to thank everyone for their Miley hating support. I greatly appreciate it. Sometimes it's hard to gauge if you are alone or extreme when you judge celebrities. Anyway. Let's get to it.

Here's my problem. I look at "followers" and see 28 and think, "30 is such a neat, clean number...can't I have 30?" And then a little voice says, "No." I don't think I write often enough to attract "new" traffic. I should be grateful for what I have. But 30 is a nice number.

Here's my other problem. Rain. Lots and lots of rain. I don't remember it raining this much last year, in fact I have a nice little gauge to know that it did not. Right outside of my room there is a carpet that covers a drain, this drain has had it up to here.

That's gross. But, the point is, it didn't do this last year, therefore I know it didn't rain this much. We let it dry out and my sister let me use a carpet cleaner to suck the water up. However, it has now done it 3 times, because it won't. Stop. Raining! I'm getting sick of it.

It used to not rain so much here. I just can't remember when that was. October maybe? This next picture was taken a week before it started to rain off and on (for at least the past month now).

I thought it was funny that they were out there on the boat and planned to do a "Jobs I'd hate more than my own" blog entry, but I must share it now to show the contrast.

...and after 4 (I think) days of rain -

The only reason that it did not flood the parking lot at work was because those little yellow jacket men had cut the holes in for sides of the concrete...just in the nick of time too. You can see the water rushing through one of the holes. This was taken early November.

And this one was yesterday morning.

Even if I weren't too busy to write most days I just wouldn't have the heart. Rain depresses me. I even had a nightmare about rain the other night. This little tiny woman (seriously tiny, like inhuman, only a little taller than a pen) was trying to cross a busy street in New York, but there were all these cars. She was trying to be cautious but then she got hit by a car, was flung into a puddle, and was swept away down into the sewer. Remembering that dream still gives me the creeps. Does anyone interpret dreams?

She's a life ruiner, she ruins peoples lives!*

Miley Cyrus is hooker and she ruins families. My name is Jessica and this is my story:


It all started on Thursday when my boss sent out a reminder e-mail about the Angel Tree, the gifts were due back to the office on Friday. At the end of the e-mail this is what was said, "There are 5 angels remaining on the tree; it is not too late to pick up an angel if you still want to participate. If you’d like to participate but don’t have time to do the shopping, you can give the money to Jessica and we will purchase the gifts for your angel." Note the "we" - the "we" really means that Jessica (me) will do it.


Did I have time to do the shopping? No. But that's okay, fine, whatever.


So all 5 angels get taken once everyone knows that there are only 5 remaining. 4 of those 5 were brought to me. Before anyone had came I already decided I was giving myself the weekend to get these gifts to the office because first, I am the one taking them to the Angel Tree "headquarters", second - I didn't have any time on Thursday, or Friday to go and buy the gifts, third - there was no time during work on Thursday or Friday to go shopping and I wasn't giving up my lunch break...I love lunch.


My sister was going to be so kind as to help me shop for these little ones (I'm talking about the Angels here...not the people at work). For some to most of the gifts I needed to go to Wal-mart, I was working with limited budgets and one girl wanted Hannah Montana clothes. A quick google search led me to believe that Hannah Montana is no longer marketable, therefore she has been dropped as far as her face showing up on t-shirts and such. So the next thing is her alter ego...Or is Hannah the alter ego? Regardless...the closest option was Miley Cyrus (exclusively sold at Wal-Mart). My sister don't do Wal-mart, she's pregnant. People who are preggers shouldn't do Wal-mart - it's on the list of no-no's along with soft cheese, frozen yogurt, and alcohol.


So Saturday morning I woke up a little before 7 am, put on some clothes and pulled back my hair, I was going sans-shower to the Wal-Mart because it really doesn't matter there. I go to get the Miley clothes only to discover my worst nightmare...she's a ho and she wants all the little girls to dress like hos as well. I find what I think is a cute purple shirt, some black pants that do not have holes in them (not easy in that part of the store) and then I pick out two other shirts. I buy the rest of the things that I can and then head over to my parent's to meet my sister.


No one is there...so I wait. Finally, Joanna shows up and I show her the stuff I got and she doesn't seem to like any of it. I show her the clothes and that's when I realized that what I thought was a cute purple shirt is two purple shirts (they were so thin I didn't even realize that I had grabbed two) and they are see through. My sister says something about them being skank clothes and of course I agree, but I have been up since 7 and been shopping at Wal-mart. Let the games begin...

Ding! Ding! In this corner we have Joanna, the hormotional preggers woman with an 96% susceptibility to Hallmark commercials. Annnnnnd in this corner we have Jessica, who had the worst week of her life and had to go shopping for work.

It wasn't that we were mad at each other, it wasn't even that we were mad at first. But soon we were both in different rooms...mad. My brother-in-law thought that he might be able to fix things (as guys so often think they can) and attempted to call me into the same room with my sister. I wouldn't budge (I can be quite a brat when I am upset - plus, I knew I needed to say sorry and if I tried at that time it would come out rude, said like a resentful child or, "I'm sorry you misunderstood." Yeah, that's not cool). When I finally came out I glared at him, I needed him to know that you should never try to come between two sisters who are in a "fight", then I returned to the other room. In due time I went and sat close to my sister, I'm pretty sure I apologized and all is well. I talked to Ben about it later and he said something about the look I had given him, how it made him want to cry. I asked him how often he had seen that look in the time he had known me (probably about 10 years) and he admitted that it was the first time. So...not so bad.

My sister and I were able to put it past us, I believe because we have stronger than the average family bonds, that and when you stop to think about it we both agreed we just fought as though we disagreed.

Overly dramatic take home message: My family almost fell apart last week...all because of Miley Cyrus.