Things I’m into right now:

1. One Direction’s “That’s What Makes You Beautiful”. The “Summer Loving” beat and cheesy ass lyrics got a girl going wild. On my looooong drive home from California yesterday, I played that shit on repeat.

UPDATE: just watched the video…tweens dancing in the ocean almost takes the wind out of my sails.

2. Girlfriends. After spending a week with my girls I’ve known and loved since kindergarten, and reflecting on the fact that I have a group of girls here in SLC that I feel like I’ve known since kindergarten, I’m pretty sure I’m the luckiest girl in the world. Like Megan and I discussed as we strolled her adorable baby to Starbucks like real stay-at-home moms: husbands are a brand of best friend; they are our partners. But girlfriends? They are our shoulders, our strength, and our source of never-ending laughter.

3. NAS. Just downloaded his newest album on which he opens up about fatherhood and his failed marriage.  I heard him on NPR yesterday and when asked: why talk about your personal life now? He replied: I’ve made ten albums. I’m done talking about how rough it was for me to get to where I am. Life can still be rough, even as a millionaire.

4. My husband. No, I am not always into my husband. Neither are you so stop judging.  Jim has been exceptional lately (see number 3 on the list of things I am NOT into). Between these crazy dogs, this crazy heat and the crazy dry/fire-y summer that is killer on my allergies, I am about to check myself into a psych ward. Jim, cool as a cucumber has been doing more than his fair share of housework, dog work, and taking-care-of-his-emotional-wreck-of-a-wife work.

Things I’m NOT into right now:

1. Bathrooms without hooks for your purse. Seriously? I’m not placing my vintage Louis Vuitton on the top of the TP dispenser, OK? And def not putting it on the sink covered in water.  I was just on a long road trip and so I was in a lot of gas station bathrooms. With my Louis. In my teeth. Gross.

2. Rihanna. Rihanna’s gyrating booty shorts and nasally voice are like nails on a chalkboard to me. She is on EVERY hip-hop station. I just don’t get it. But, don’t get me wrong; when I get to Vegas on Thursday and hear her in the club, I’m sure my body is gonna betray me and dance.

3. My dogs. As far as Lula is concerned, Sadie was the best thing that has happened to our household. As for me? I slipped her a Benadryl today. No seriously, I did. We adopted her and her kennel cough, which turned into pneumonia, which turned into an $1100 hospital stay, which turned into $500 of meds. THEN, she got a mysterious lump on her shoulder (not cancerous) that is full of nastiness and scar tissue. The girl is wearing a cone and a t-shirt that says, “I’m straight and I support equal rights” as she bangs her head all around the house, knocking shit over and undoubtedly giving herself even more brain damage. She thinks she can play rough with Lula (who is constantly assisting her in removing both her cone and nasty t-shirt) and I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. Oh, and Jim’s gone for a week. 

Don't let that face fool you. See her arm? It's comfortable resting in the crack of her cone!

Reason to Love SLC #4, 5, and 6

No, there aren't three reasons to love SLC in this post. This particular reason is so effing awesome, it deserves three reasons.

Red Butte Concert Series

Every summer, Red Butte Gardens has an unbelievable season line up in an unbelievable setting.  With the gorgeous Red Butte foothill and canyon to your left and a sweeping view of the valley to your right, this outdoor venue is likely the most beautiful I've seen.  Each time I've gone to a concert there, the artists have always commented on the amazing scenery. 

But a good line up and breathtaking views aren't shit when you can't have your favorite drink in hand, amirite? The best part about this venue is you can bring in your own food AND booze.

Every concert day, at about 2 PM folks start to line up outside the gate (and up the gorgeous canyon) so they can get the best spot on the open seating lawn. Unlike venues such as Shoreline Amphitheater in CA, this lawn section begins AT THE STAGE. The VIP preferred seating is actually behind the lawn. People set up shop in line. I'm talking tables with food, coolers with ice cold pinot grigio and great conversation. How cool is that?

The venue is small, holding only 2,800 people, so no seat is a bad seat.  People just put down their blankets, unfold their lawn chairs, unpack their fancy cheese and crackers and crack open their beer/wine/bloody mary/mojito.  Whenever I go to a show, I always feel like I am among family...it is a wonderful feeling.

This season I've seen The Shins and Wilco so far.

The Shins!

Wilco!

Me and birthday boy Josh at Wilco

Jimism: the yellow kind

The other day I am listening, intently to my math lecture online when I hear, "you know, she must have done that right underneath you". I look in the direction of Jim's voice. Sadie had peed, a lot, directly to the right of my chair. WTF?

Jim starts to laugh.

I say, "knock it off, I was listening to my math!"

Jim says, "see if you can calculate the circumference of that puddle" and walks away.

I’d be happier if you were going to build a house for the homeless.

My life, morals, values, and opinions do not align with those of the popular culture’s religion in my neck of the woods.

Duh.

But I feel like I’ve done a decent job of accepting that this is indeed the popular culture and I am to respect that in places like work, school and other public forums like the Wells Fargo I frequent.

This weekend for Pride I will be wearing my Rainbow Brite costume, each month I give money toward the Human Rights Campaign, and I love Barack Obama unconditionally.

Today, we had a “monthly mingle” at work. We are usually treated to cookies or some other small goodie and it is a generally nice 20 minutes of social time honoring those whose birthdays fall in each month.  

Today, those with May birthdays shared their monthly treat and social time with a senior partner who is leaving to serve an LDS mission in England for three years.

Exactly what budget did the 20-plus helium balloons, streamers, giant British flag table cloth, (catered) tea sandwiches, ice cream, chocolate covered biscotti, and scones come from?  Who was able to socialize while the music blared and he was wished a very public, “God speed”?

Back up for a second: I am fine with God being talked about here, with folks going on missions, with scones. I am not fine with blatant favoritism and the expectation that we should all be A-OK with the fact that this man and his wife are going to another country to spread what they think to be God’s words.

As a non practicing anything, I can’t say that I am personally, deeply offended. But what about those whose faith clashes with the Mormon faith? What about those who deeply feel the words of God are something else entirely? We are supposed to be happy and (this is a direct quote, here) consider this man and his wife “extremely deserving of this honor”. Honor?

So, if I went around, door to door in Italy, preaching that all  humans should be treated equally in the eyes of the law, or that “God” actually finds women to be the superior sex, will I get a freaking spaghetti cook off in my honor?

Am I overreacting?

Restaurant Workers in Latex Gloves. Discuss.

Does anyone else question the latex gloves (or sometimes the cheap, oversized sandwich baggy looking things) that the 15 year old making your Subway sandwich is wearing? Or, let’s not be restaurant chain-ist; the waitress I had today at a very nice Italian spot near my work.

Here’s my question: are you wearing those to protect me? Or just your hands?

She has them on, my six inch wheat in her hands, “what kind of cheese”? American, I answer.  “Hot or cold”? Hot, I say. She then takes those gloved hands and opens up the microwave, then puts  my six inch turkey on wheat in there.

“What do you ladies want to drink”? She says as she carries the water carafe in her plastic baggied hands. The same carafe the non-gloved barista just filled behind the counter.

I don’t get it. What is the point of putting the gloves on if you’re going to touch every stinking surface of the eatery AND my food?

Can someone shed some light? Please?

Colon Cleanse. Bear with me.

Again, MIA, I know. It’s been a rough several weeks with finals, our beloved dog passing, and the addition of our new pup, Sadie.  Molly deserves a post of her own (which I will likely get to sometime next fall) so I won’t go into the sad (yet heartwarming) details right now.

This post is about a colon cleanse! I’ve been reading The Bloggess’ new book: Let’s Pretend this Never Happened, and I just read a hilarious chapter about how she overdosed on laxatives. Seriously, people, go get that book! I started it three weeks ago and am purposely only reading a few chapters a week to savor every single word. She is a great writer, who is also plagued with anxiety disorders which  makes her as brave as she is hilarious.

Anyway, the chapter started with her wanting to try a colon cleanse since a friend of hers did one and lost a few pounds. Although she thinks that makes her sound crazy, I think it is a brilliant idea! I Googled the shit out of colon cleanses and which ones are the right ones and voila, I should expect my order for Colopril early next week.

Side note: The title of this post originally said, “Bare with me” and so I Googled that and found this hilarious gem:

“Bear with me,” the standard expression, is a request for forbearance or patience. “Bare with me” would be an invitation to undress.

So, this is awkward…

I know I’ve been MIA, and for the 2.5 of you that actually read my blog, I apologize.

There is SO much in my drafts file, and SO much I need to talk about! Like my AWE-mazing 30th birthday party that my AWE-mazing Emily put on for me, or the fact that my 15 year old friend Annie is studying the exact same algebra concepts in her high school math class as I am in my college math class, or about the j-off who nearly ran me over in the parking garage prompting me to chew out the valet desk manager at the Marriott.  I also went to Miami and came back with a more distorted body image than I arrived with.

Which brings me to the point of this, brief, post. Yesterday I went to my (fantastic) doctor because my allergies had me looking like a swollen mess.  She’s really great because even though I book an appointment with her to discuss one thing, she always wants to discuss my health and how I am feeling as a whole. So as we neared the conclusion of our visit, the following exchange occurred:

Dr. Bell: Ok, there’s one more issue, that I am sure your aware of.

Me: Uh huh (in my head I am thinking, I have no idea what she is talking about)

Dr. Bell: Your weight.

Me: (in my head, crap, I was aware of that)

Dr. Bell: Now, you’re not a fat girl, so 6 pounds gained in one year is not really ideal.

Me: Uh huh (in my head, JC, I KNOW! I just got married, my dog has cancer, work is crazy, I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THE GYM!)

Then I said, well Jim and I are getting really into biking so…

And that was that.

Jim made me feel better by pointing out that the last time I saw her I had literally just gotten married and was in the best shape of my life.  But we’d both like to know, if I were a “fat girl” would 6 pounds be fine? If so, I’d like to convert…

Happy Valentine’s Day! Hello?

So I don’t know how your Valentine’s Day (or Singles Awareness Day as the Facebooks are reporting), started, but mine started out rough.

Jim and I basically screamed at each other all the way into work because we were both annoyed with the clusterf*ck that was the discount hysterectomy office err, The Humane Society, where he took Lula this AM. We pulled up to my office, I got out, he looked the other direction, I slammed the door and stormed up to the tenth floor, late, because of said clusterf*ck.

As I tried, desperately to move from relationship suicide to Legal Secretary mode, the following ideas of things to passive aggressively email to Jim ran through my mind (per usual, they go from irrational to, less irrational):

1. why don’t you f*ck off, pissy pants

2. yeah, I’m going to have to bail on dinner, I have math homework

3. there’s a card on the counter for you, it describes how I felt about you yesterday

4. (assuming/hoping I received flowers today) are these ‘I’m sorry’ flowers? No? Click.

But before any of that actually came to fruition, Jim contacted me, called a truce, and I remembered how desperately in love with this man I am. That’s the beauty of love and commitment. You can hate someone's guts and know you’d die without them all at the same time! And it’s completely normal and sane! 

Right?

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Since it is the holiday season, I see a lot of little ones. They have a lot to say. A lot of funny stuff to say:

1. Charlie (my BFF’s 2 year old) at 6 am: Where’s daddy?

Momma Steph: Daddy’s in bed.

C: Daddy in bed?

MS: Yes.

C: Daddy in bed with Dawn ma rie?

Daddy from the bed: Daddy wishes!

She did this the next morning as well, BTW.

2. Jim’s department is hiring, and he is on the hiring committee. The other day they were discussing candidates in a meeting when it became clear that a candidate’s letters of recommendation were missing, or, gasp, not sent! That night, Jim’s colleague Matt went home and had dinner with his wife and 4 year old son, Isaac. He retold the story about how they at first thought that the candidate didn’t have any letters of rec. Isaac was very saddened by the thought that someone would have no letters.

Isaac: NO letters today? How can he have NO letters today??

He then took out paper and crayons and proceeded to write letters of recommendation for the poor sap. The funny thing is, he thought he needed actual letters; just random letters of the alphabet.

3. Our niece, Lilly talking about her old dog (and my new-ish dog), Molly:

When I was a baby, I tried to ride Molly. She jerked me off like a bull!

4. Our niece, Eva pooping on the potty (such a big girl!): I pooping babies!

My brother, Vince: Babies, huh? You all done now?

Eva: No! I got more babies in there!

5. Our nephew, Vinny losing his shit because he got books for Christmas, much like this kid: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sv4Hpz-GI3g