Thursday, July 28, 2011

SYTYCD Recap & Lady G

First off, good morning!

Secondly, did you watch So You Think You Can Dance last night? Lady Gaga was one of the guest judges and let me tell you that was interesting. I'm not really sure what to touch on - the hair, the shoes, the shoulder pads or the slightly critical comments she made about the choreography. All made my look closer and then think on it for a moment. Say whaaa-tt?

She pretty much hinted that she wasn't a fan of a lot of the choreographers' interpretations last night. I wonder if the choreographers are thinking - well, there goes our chances of ever choreographing for Lady Gaga, or if they're thinking oh well, it's Lady Gaga what do you expect? It's not like Michael Jackson saying he wasn't a fan of your moonwalk, but it's still Lady Gaga. That's gotta hurt.

Enough about Gaga! On to the dances! My favorite was Melanie and Sasha's crazy girl robot power dance. Sonia choreographed it so what's not to love? I usually love Sonia and Mandy Moore dances.

Here's a peak. Oh, and you'll also get a quick look at Lady Gaga's outfit and out there-ness.

Melanie is still my favorite. If you're watching, who's your favorite?

P.S. I'm a fan of Cat Deeley and I hope she has a good chance at the Emmy!

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Bored Straight

I have board straight hair. Or bored straight is often what I think of when I look at my hair. Nothing to it. Left to it's own devices, my hair is the Marsha Brady. I know, I know...many pay lots of moola to have their hair straightened, but I just want a little oomph.

It all started when one of my friends said she had no idea that she had curl in her hair until one day when she was in a hurry, she left it damp and just added a friend's curl friendly hair gel. And poof, she now wears her hair curly most of the time.

Well, this little story only fed my dream of having "natural" curls or even just a little wave. Maybe this was what my hair had been waiting for: a miracle product. Maybe, just maybe - I too have an undiscovered Shirley Temple.

And so began the search to find this curly top miracle product.

I scoured shelves of hair products to find anything that said something along the lines of "Your hair may not be curly now and in fact, may be straight after days in rollers, but this product has the ability to change your hair DNA."

Here's how my results measured up in terms of Marsha Brady hair.

After curl enhancing product A:

After magnificent volume and wave product B:

After miraculous if-a-single-curled-hair-were-in a haystack-we-will-find-it product C:


I will not name the products that I tried, but I will say that as I my wavy hair dream disippated so did the amount that I was willing to spend on DNA changing products.

What I have decided is that God must have given me straight hair for a reason. Because of my bored straight hair, the routine takes me 6 minutes max: 4 to dry and 2 to "fix", a.k.a run a brush through and spray. Upon further inspection, considering that curly hair requires more skill and I have trouble mastering the round brush, it is a blessing in disguise - or should I say, in Marsha Brady hair.

Have I given up? Almost. I'm leaving it in the hands of the one who blessed me with this hair DNA. I'm now limiting my quest to prayer.

If the next time you see me and are expecting to see Marsha Brady and get Andi McDowell instead - you know what happened.

A divinely inspired product miracle.


Along with absolutely wonderful characteristics we discover about our spouses as newlyweds, there are also those little things that we uncover that, well - get under our skin. You know what I'm talking about - The Peeves. Maybe it's leaving the dirty clothes out of the hamper or the toilet seat up, but we all have certain little self-imposed guidelines for the other half's behavior.

For instance, I know a few things that Joey is particular about: wiping down the shower doors, my long hair in his hair brush tickling his face, shirts facing a certain way in his closet, me taking his good pens, etc. I try to do my best in these little areas as he does the same for me.

And then there's losing socks in the dryer.

This has long been a point of contention between us. By long, I mean almost 3 years. And by contention I'm slightly exaggerating, but what's new? Let's just say that it has caused some frustration for my hubs.

Now, my argument was that if one would not leave socks balled up in shoes, kicked under the bed or in exotic locations across the landscape of our house, one would not have this problem.

That was my case.

But then I started noticing that his socks were missing too. I would load everything into the washer, meticulously noting all the socks as they went in. And low and behold, by the time it came to folding they were Sock Singletons!

So, what does a new wife do? She stores all the Sock Singletons in the back of her own sock drawer for safe keeping. Just until they are reunited with their true love of course. No need to stress you know who out about the dwindling sock population in our house. Or confirm his idea that I lose socks for that matter.

And this cycle went on. And on. Wash. Relocate. Dry. Find Sock Singletons. Hide Sock Singletons. File a Missing Sock Report (MSR). And repeat cycle. For one year.

I was perplexed. I mean, I had heard rumors of the Sock Monster, but didn't really believe in it's existence. It's the housewife's Chupacabra or Nessie. But how else do you explain this?

I began to feel bad when putting little sock couples into our washing machine, knowing that the odds weren't in their favor. I gave the Sock Pre-Wash Address to all those about to embark on their first cycle. Look to your left. Now look to your right. Only two of you will make it out. And odds are, both of you will be Sock Singletons.

Laundry Life went on like this for quite some time. Our poor socks were shaking in our boots.

Anytime socks were brought up in conversation, I immediately broke out in a sweat. Did he notice? Thank goodness for replenishment during Christmas from his mom. I mean, at some point you just run out of matched socks.

I can't quite remember if the hubs began to notice that his sock levels were beginning to reach alarmingly low levels or maybe we were just folding laundry, but it finally came up.

He said something about how funny it was that we could never keep matched pairs of socks.

Mmmm hmmm, I said, so funny. Insert nervous laughter. It's over, I thought.

The hubs continued, saying that it had gotten so bad that he had...

This is it. My days of sock trafficking are over. The jig's up.

Wait what did he just say?

He said, it's gotten so bad that he started collecting stray socks and keeping them in the back of his drawer in hopes of coming across their match.

Yes, we were both sockpiling. You just have to laugh.

I immediately started a for socks. Over 25+ matches made!

Moral of the story? Don't keep secrets from your husband. Even if they're little ones.

Oh, and never dispose of Sock Singletons. You never know when their mate could be one sock drawer over.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

My absolute favorite dance of the season on So You Think You Can Dance last night. I haven't even been a huge Sasha fan so this caught me off guard. Melanie has been my all along favorite. I still loved her dances last night too, but this one, I just loved it. It was just so easy and right!


Watch it.

Now, wasn't that good?

I'm going to ask Joey if he wants to learn the choreography with me. I have an idea of his reaction, but I just want to see what he says. C'mon, who wouldn't want to be Twitch?

P.S. You know that the reason I watch SYTYCD is because I can't really dance well, right? I dance vicariously.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Name That Corpse Flower

Remember the lovely Lois that made the news last year?

If waiting for a flower to bloom with the stench of death isn't cool enough, this year the Houston Museum of Natural Science is making it fun by letting the public vote on the new flower's name. That's nerdy cool if you ask me!

I'm torn between Clark and Hermann.

I guess Clark was suggested because of Lois and Clark. You know, the famous expeditionists? Just kidding. More like Superman. And I just think it's kind of an unexpected name for a corpse flower. Hermann is the second choice as this unnamed beauty will be a resident of Hermann Park.

I just decided that 'Clark' is a little too Rico Suave for a corpse flower. Hermann's more like it.

Meanwhile, I have my own corpse flower situation going on at work. I was hoping that maybe with a change in office, I would also be turning over a new leaf in regards to my skills as a botanist. Let's just say I'm still trying to find my inner George Washington Carver.

It needs to be taken out, but look it still has green leaves at the bottom! I had to hide it under my desk when a visitor came in yesterday. I'm waiting until this weekend to bring it back home to finish out its final days.

I'm no longer naming my plants. It's just too painful.

Meanwhile, go rock the vote!

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

A Good Morning!

If I could have an internal alarm clock and pick its "ring tone", this would probably be it: Mandisa's Good Morning.

I am so glad there are not cameras around when this song comes on because I can't help myself!

I wish everyone a GOOD MORNING!

P.S. Doesn't Mandisa look A-Mazing?

Monday, July 18, 2011

A Very Happy Unbirthday

Did I tell you that my husband turned the big 3-0 this month? You know why this is slightly disturbing? Because this means that this very same number is right around the corner for me.

We celebrate for the whole first half of the month. Over the Fourth of July we always go to his parents' lakehouse in Louisiana where we salute all of the July birthdays in the family with a cake from their favorite bakery, Treina's. Joey and his cousin, Maggie, received their own cake as they were turning you know what.

Mr. Petey makes things like jambalaya, crawfish etouffee, gumbo and fried fish. He's like the Cajun male version of Paula Deen. And as usual, there's always a lot of this:

And it's delicious.

We had a great 4th of July and had tons of fun with family.

Last weekend we celebrated Joey's birthday officially with friends, Mexican food, golf and Settler's of Catan.

And then there was my Gift Fail. We had agreed that he would pick out his Big Gift and I would get him a Little Gift. Now, before I tell you what I got the guy who has everything, I must say that I had did not pull this gift idea out of thin air. There had been many positive comments made that led me in the direction. At the time, I felt secure in getting it. You're going to think I'm an idiot.

I got him a gift certificate for a pedicure.

Dumb idea. I'm not going to go into why I thought my manly husband would like this, but I promise it was legit. He flat out laughed when he opened it.

Well, that was because it was an empty box. The lady forgot to put the gift certificate in the box.

I told him what it was, then he laughed again!

He's turning it in for a massage.

I know. You don't have to say it. You told me so.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

The Piano Sweatshop

It's 9 o'clock on Saturday
and the regular crowd shuffles in.

A young boy sits at the piano, his legs dangling from the bench. A lamp illuminates the keys in yellow light.

"Have you practiced?" He hesitates. "Um, yes m'am."

She senses weakness, turns and looks at him over the glasses balancing at the end of her nose. "We shall see. Begin with an F# scale in the key of G minor and follow it up with Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 15 in B flat."

Sweat begins to bead on his forehead as he brings his trembling little fingers to the keys. And the metronome begins.


Alright, you got me. I made this scene up. And I can't resist Billy Joel sometimes. You know I have a vivid imagination and tend to fill in the gaps of a story on my own. But my mind creates this dramatic scene every time I pass a house that is near the entrance to our neighborhood.

This is The Piano Sweatshop. It never fails that each time I pass this house, the front room blinds are pulled all the way up and there is a teacher and a young Asian child at the piano. It doesn't matter the time or the day. Wednesday 5:30 PM, Sunday 9:00 PM , Saturday 8:00 AM - class is ALWAYS in session.

A mini-van or two are usually waiting outside for The Exchange: one picking up and the other dropping off. It's all part of the Piano Mom Cartel. But I'm thinking about putting a sting operation together.

As I drive by at 8:30 on a Friday night and I see those little ones diligently at the piano, it makes me sad. I guess I shouldn't judge, maybe the child loves playing at all hours! But, 9:00 on Sunday night? It reminds me of the Tiger Mom. Have you read about that? Maybe it doesn't fall under child labor laws, but I'm almost positive there is something illegal going on here.

I have a friend who was raised by Tiger type parents and is adamantly opposed to this line of parenting from personal experience. My parents always forced me to try new things even if I was scared to death. Often, after I got over my fear I was grateful that they had pushed. But what is the line? I'm a dog parent, so my experience only involves strenuous hours of practicing fetch.

Will the child grow up to thank their parents for instilling discipline in order to attain a skill? Or will they grow bitter, regretting a childhood lost?

He says son can you play me a memory? I’m not really sure how it goes, but it’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete when I wore a younger man’s clothes.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

How To Win Friends & Influence Officemates

I owe you a big update. I announce a month ago that I have a new job and then the only thing that I post is about vacuum cleaners. Lame, I know.

Sometimes there's just too much to say and too little time to say it. And besides, when I'm stressed I post about random things that don't matter. Like how I love looking at the dirt bin of a vacuum cleaner. It's my comfort post.

Things have been going great at the new job, but very very busy. I am heading up our company's marketing and am, in fact, our only marketing employee. I'm hoping to change that in the future, but for now I'm it!

I've discovered a few universal truths to making friends in any new office environment:

  1. When trying to make friends with other women in the office, bring up the thermostat. Not much in common to talk about? "Geez, it's cold in here. Wish I would've brought my snuggie." Bam and you're in. Women unite around a good complaint about the office temperature.

  2. Chocolate is a universal language. I have strategically placed a bowl of Hershey's chocolate kisses right by the door to my office. They have no choice but to come in and say hello to the new employee. If Pavlov would've used chocolate in his experiments, he would have had faster results. Oh wait, he used dogs. Nevermind then, scratch that - he was using meat.

  3. Drop a few comments about having dogs here and there to see who bites. If there are a few dog lovers in the house, you're automatically cool. At least with the dog people. Note - do not bring up Pavlovian experiments using chocolate. This will not fair well with dog lovers and you will be looked at with a wary eye for the rest of your tenure.

  4. Put a brightly colored exotic plant on your desk. There's a little bit of hummingbird in all of us. People will come by to admire it the first day and as in my case, thereafter, to slowly watch it's demise and offer helpful tips about how to possibly nurse it back to health.

  5. Wear brightly colored clothes. See previous tip regarding hummingbirds.

Now that you have these tips in your back pocket, go make friends with your officemates. I promise the world of successful scissor and hole puncher borrowing will open up to you!