Saturday, February 28, 2009

Random Tidbits: Because I Share...

A List of Things From this Week that Don't Count as Blog Posts on Their Own but Together Make This List:

1) Mike and I went to a digital media performance last night. (What does that include? Loud music and videos that would kill an epileptic dog:

... it was sort of awesome... mostly...) The biggest thing that I learned: I am SO not "art-nerd-chic" enough to fit in at these events. Mike has his arty slash nerdy slash chicy glasses and I? Have nothing. Even with my terrorist scarf, I am not nearly cool enough.

2) Both of my parents are now on Facebook. How do I feel about this? Honestly, it doesn't really bother me. Why? Because they're not crazy stalker parents. They actually joined because they have their OWN friends on Facebook, and, you know, not to keep tabs on me and my brother. (Though I warned them that if they call me every time I make an overly emotional status update to ask what's wrong... we'll have a problem.)

3) I got TweetDeck and it's been downhill ever since. TweetDeck is an application that downloads to your desktop/dock and lets you read all of your tweets as they come in. Each time a new group of tweets comes up, it chirps like an electronic bird and I get all "a-twitter" (hahahaha!) because I can see what's new in the Twitter Universe. Unfortunately, I now have the Twitter chirp permanently stuck in my head at all hours and I get strangely excited (not erotically... just to clear that up) when I hear a real bird make noise... awk-ward.

4) We tried to go see Coraline yesterday but the projector broke. So instead we got to sit through 10 minutes of pre-preview previews with Miley Cyrus talking about how her new Hannah Montana movie "is unlike ANYTHING you have EVER seen on the big screen" before management gave us free passes for another time. I am, like, so excited to save the rain check passes that management gave us (because THEY SUCK AT PROJECTOR REPAIR) to use for this awesome feat of cinematic (and musical) mastery.

5) Dinner on LOST night was AWESOME. You may call me? The Martha Stewart of Taco Bars, thankyouverymuch.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Ally B, Please Pack Your Knives and Go...

So it is Wednesday!

What does that mean?

(Other than the fact that it's the middle of the week and I have done NOTHING.)

It's LOST night! WOOHOO!!

So, Mike and I open our humble (slash dirty and duct-tape covered) home to some fellow LOST lovers and spend quite a few hours watching and dissecting every single scene of the most awesome show on television.

(Is Ben a good guy? Or just a sneaky little elf man?)

A few weeks ago we decided that each week one of the four of us will cook dinner for the whole gang.

The first week: Mark made Kung Pao Tofu with rice. And it was? AMAZING!

The second week: Mike made veggie lasagna. INCREDIBLE! (Seriously, I made them stop eating it so that I could save some for my dinner the following night... and then I told Mike that my tummy was sad that he didn't make more.)

And last week: Gordon (the only loser with no blog... though we're LOST freaks, so I guess we're ALL losers) made stuffed bell peppers. DELICIOUS.

SO... tonight it's my night to cook for these guys and I've got a lot to compete against. I'm a tiny bit nervous that they're just going to nod and smile but secretly will be thinking that I'm not allowed to participate in these LOST meals anymore.

My first idea was to just order pizza... but that's cheating.

My next idea was to make a "build your own peanut butter and jelly sandwich" bar (I would provide BOTH creamy and chunky, because I care)... but that was vetoed pretty fast.

So I decided to stick with the "make your own" idea, but I jazzed it up a bit by making it a "make your own taco" bar.

I have TWO types of tortillas.

Lettuce and tomatoes.

Onions and cilantro.

And corn with black beans and peppers.

(Made from scratch.)

(Lie. I am a liar. I found that last one in the frozen section... shut up and don't tell the boys.)

I'm even making Spanish rice (which could be delicious or burned... we'll see).

And I'm making a huge batch of guacamole.

(I HAVE to make a huge batch because I eat guacamole by the spoonful and I THINK it's kind of Bad Hostessing 101 to eat all of the dip.)

So look out world... I am awesome.

Oh, and we've been watching the Top Chef marathon all day so I'm really excited to walk around pointing at all of the ingredients saying things like, "And here we have a bag of cheese and some shredded iceberg lettuce, all with a lovely sauce of off-brand salsa out of the jar... and even though the corn is cold, it is NOT because it's frozen... and yes, I actually grew that cilantro myself."

All in a European accent, a la Fabio.

Monday, February 23, 2009


I just finished The Watchmen.

That's right. I read a comic book.

Sorry... it's called a "graphic novel"...

(Don’t want any hate mail from men who live in their mother’s basements.)

(OK… bring the hate mail on…)

(Though who are we kidding? It's a comic book.)

And you know what?


See, I’m a fan of superhero movies.

Batman? Too cool.

The X-Men movies? 100% bad-ass.

And you can bet that I’ll be there the day Wolverine opens.

So, I was very excited to see the previews for The Watchmen:

Now, even though I love the movies, I’ve never read the comic books slash graphic novels slash I don't care what you call them.

But The Watchmen intrigued me because it is on Time Magazine's 100 Best English-Language Novels from 1923 to the Present.

(That's kind of a long title for a list.)

(I would change it to: Read This Because We’re Time Mother-Fucking Magazine and We Said So…)

(Which I see is a tad longer than the original.)

(But I find my title way more evocative.)

(Note that Harry Potter didn't make it on the list... bad Time Magazine...)

So I decided to read it.

And I LOVED it. Seriously… it was like totally AWESOME-O.

And I can’t wait to see the movie.

But reading a "graphic novel" makes you evaluate yourself.

I mean, I was reading a book that has an audience of mostly twelve-year-old boys.

So I have decided that since I enjoyed it so much I must actually be a twelve-year-old boy.

And therefore, I should embrace this and accept myself as the pre-pubescent teenage male that I obviously am.

So I’ve decided to do other “twelve-year-old-esque” things…

I’ve started hiding dirty magazines under my mattress.

I put up a picture of Ashley Tisdale on the ceiling above my bed, because she is, like, as hot as Superman's laser vision.


And I hate my parents because they JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND ME!!

And I only eat Hot Pockets because, um, it is like, uh, a meal in a pocket.

And when The Watchmen comes out I’m going to tell my folks that I’m going to Jimmy’s house, and Jimmy is going to tell his parents that he’s going to my house, and then we’re going to go to the movie theater on our bikes and we’ll buy tickets for Hotel for Dogs because we’re not old enough to buy tickets for The Watchmen but then we’ll sneak into The Watchmen and if they try and ask us where our tickets are we’ll say that we lost them and if they ask for our IDs we’ll go all ninja on their asses.



Later, yo.

Friday, February 20, 2009

I May Be Single After This...

*UPDATE!* This post was accepted at! You can see it on that site here! My quest for world domination is well on its way...

Dear Mike,

It’s been awhile, huh?

(OK, you only left for work about 3 hours ago… but I wanted to start this letter like that because I felt it was all literary and shit so shut up.)

So, I was loading the dishwasher and thinking to myself about how you are so going to yell at me because I’m just shoving dishes in there and you think that there is a “right” way to load the dishes and according to you I only do it the “wrong” way.


(OK, that’s not completely true. I’m now picturing all of these ways that would obviously be the WRONG way to load the dishwasher. Like if I put the dishes in there face-down instead of in the little plate slots… or if I decided to put all of the dishes in with my feet… both are excellent examples of the WRONG way.)

(But I don’t do either… though I’m now looking forward to trying…)

There may be a more effective way to load it… but the way I’m doing it isn’t hurting anybody, so you shouldn’t yell at me about it.

Now, I’m not going to be one of those women who say, “Just realize that I’m always right, honey, and your life will be a lot easier.”

Because, honestly, there will probably be PLENTY of times where I actually DO do something wrong.

Like, if I accidentally put our baby’s diaper on his head instead of his butt… feel free to tell me that I am doing it wrong.

(If it’s NOT an accident, though, I expect you to laugh your ass off at my hilarious joke because I’ll probably be all crazy hormonal and will KILL you if you don’t.)

(Fair warning.)

And if I get so damn lazy that I start walking around with the baby like this:

fail owned pwned pictures

...THEN you may rip me a new one.

Or, if I get the brilliant idea to clean the bathroom by flooding it with soapy water and then siphoning it out through some elaborate system I will invent in the future… you might have the right to slap me around verbally.

(Unless it works, in which case you will BOW DOWN TO ME as I will most certainly be the winner of some amazing invention or peace award and therefore your Sugar Momma...)

So, I guess I’m trying to tell you that there will be PLENTY if opportunities to yell at me… so maybe you should consider choosing your battles a tad more carefully.

We’re in it for the long haul… and someday you’ll look back and realize that the whole dishwasher thing was JUST THE BEGINNING.

Can't wait...


Ally B

PS: I may or may not have tried to get Hannah to carry some plates and silverware in her mouth so I wouldn’t have to carry them, which probably qualifies as the WRONG way to load a dishwasher. You may yell at me for that.

PPS: Can you please pick up some new dishes on the way home? She failed and broke them all when she rounded the corner… bad Hannah.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Dirty Mouth?

I know I complain about the wind a lot...

But COME ON?!?!

The wind today is out of control.

Like... it's just not safe.

Street lights are down, and although one would think that it would be clear that one must adopt the whole 4-way stop system in such a situation, many people adopt the whole "let's just gun it through the light as fast as possible at any moment that we choose" system.

And I don't appreciate that after walking through a parking lot to my car I realize that I am chewing ON DIRT because the wind blew DIRT PARTICLES into my mouth and now when I clamp my jaw down I hear gravel crunching.

And when I walk in the door the wind is so strong that SOMEHOW the trapdoor to the attic BLOWS OPEN.

Not cool...

Bad, Colorado wind... bad.

In fact? Bite me... or should I say, blow me?


PS: I just realized that President "Kick-Ass" Obama is in Denver today signing the Stimulus Bill... I hope the Secret Service totally has some sort of "Save the President for Deadly Winds" plan.

PPS: Shit! Something just slammed into the side of the house, causing me to run around screaming "We're all gonna die! We're all gonna die! Save the President!"

PPPS: It was a patio chair, so we had to take all of the cushions off so we could stack the chairs and the cushions were dripping water all over the place but I thought it was Hannah peeing so I started yelling "Hannah is peeing!", but then Mike pointed out that it's the cushions so I screamed "Hannah didn't pee! Hannah didn't pee! Save the President!".

PPPPS: I just added the tag "In Need of Professional Help" to this post.

PPPPPS: I have more dirt in my mouth after the whole chair slash cushion slash Is Hannah Peeing? fiasco.

Monday, February 16, 2009

A Well Balanced Meal

This morning I didn't want to move... at all.

I wanted to curl up in bed, close my eyes, and just sleep.

Just for a little longer.

But then Mike started yelling about how he left a whole bunch of hot sauce packets from Taco Bell on the table and now only a few are left and who did I think had taken them?


(And I would like to point out that it is a testament to my patience (slash sleepiness) that I didn't point out that it was pretty dumb to leave hot sauce packets on the coffee table... just saying...)

And then Mike came in and was talking about what internet server company he should use and how much it will cost and asking me for advice on something that I have no idea about.

(Seriously, he knows that I'm really only good for Friends trivia and snarky comments about... well, anything.)

(I think he really just needed someone to talk to... and I have to say it's nice to still be that person... even if I have to talk about the pros and cons of different internet servers...)

So, needless to say, I decided that more sleep just wasn't going to happen.

(Though I did manage to play a full game of Tetris on my phone before tearing myself out of the bed... so some laziness accomplished.)

Anyway, when I get up, I always have a tough time with breakfast food.

When I was younger, I HATED breakfast.

(It may or may not have had something to do with the fact that I was always SO nervous about going to school that I was nauseous every morning and the idea of any food made it worse... or I was just picky...)

But as I've matured (slash became less neurotic... kinda) I've discovered that breakfast food is awesome.

And anything with hollandaise sauce is Brad's gift to humanity.

But I don't have a stash of hollandaise sauce around the house. And anyway, it doesn't really go well with oatmeal or Cheerios... so I prefer eating breakfast out.

But I can't do that everyday (sad).

So... it takes awhile for me to figure out if anything is appetizing in the morning here at home.

So I spend the first hour or so of my day catching up on my favorite blogs and twitters and such.

This morning Mike was testing his new email addresses through his new server (which one did he decide on? no idea), and he asked me to send him some test emails.

Test email one:

You make me smile... I want to eat the rest of my box of Valentine's Day chocolates for breakfast.

(Don't judge me... if it was in a muffin or pancakes or a croissant, nobody would mind if I were eating chocolate for breakfast. And without the carbs, I'm really being MORE health conscious.)

Mike's response (verbally... we're not total dorks that we sit right next to each other emailing one another... though Mike has discovered that you can send text messages from Gmail... so that's been interesting...):

Although you are very cute... no, you cannot have the rest of your Valentine's candy for breakfast.

Test email two:

Seriously? Can I at least have the chocolate rose?

Mike's response:

Ugh... yes. Eat the flower, you weirdo...

Test email three:

Thank you for my flower. It is delicious and lovely and makes me happy.

(It really was good... it was one of those fake roses that is a hollow piece of milk chocolate... hells yes.)

Mike's response:

You're welcome... now let me have a piece.

So, all in all, I found an excellent breakfast... and now I must go work out...


PS: I sent one more test email:

Final test email:

Dear Daddy,

Can we go for a w-a-l-k with you today? We love you.


McWiggles (Bonnie) and McWrinkles (Hannah)

It worked, too, because he took the dogs to Grandma and Grandpa's and I'm now able to do the Wii Fit without the two of them jumping on me and trying to steal the Wii Remote while I'm doing the Tree Pose.

(Ooh... click on that link to the Yoga website... the cartoon really creeps me out. Not sure why, but he does.)

(Notice how I'm NOT on the Wii Fit, and am instead writing (rambling) about chocolate for breakfast in an effort to brag about how cute Mike and I are..?)

(Procrastination: it's an art.)

Saturday, February 14, 2009

You're in my Domain, Now...

Hello all!

Exciting news! I (finally) got my own domain set up, so I now own and operate

(So pretty!)

So, please help a sister out and change all of your bookmarks and such to this address.

If you type in my former web address (, though, it will redirect you to this new address automatically... because the internets are pretty smart...

But isn't it way cooler to change your bookmarks to this new, awesome, one?

Thursday, February 12, 2009

The Fast Track to Thin

*Somehow this ended up on I don't know why, or how, but I'm very happy to be there!*

I feel that it is my responsibility and duty to offer insight and tips to the world... well, at the very least to all of you, my avid readers. And so, I have decided to share my advice on a subject that I feel very strongly about.

I, like many other women in the world (and some men, I would guess), am always looking for a super quick way to drop some pounds.

Sure, I know the equation: move more + eat less = lose weight... but I want results NOW.

(Plus I am the laziest person on the planet and I LOVE to eat... which really makes the above equation... well... useless to me.)

Also, I would prefer to do without ordering frozen meals from those companies on television... I don't care how good that fettuccine is, or that you can have chocolate every day, and I really don't care how much weight Marie Osmond lost. Plus, if I'm paying for something to be delivered to my door, it'll be a pretty new purse, not frozen dinners, thankyouverymuch.

So, to ponder my desire to be thin, I headed over to my favorite Chinese restaurant because sometimes you just need some fried rice.

(I know going to a restaurant to eat fried rice is kind of counter-intuitive if you want to ponder weight loss... but just go with me.)

(And I had already gone to the gym that day!)

(Plus, they have awesome Soy Beef with Broccoli.)

(That's right. SOY beef... holla to the vegetarians!)

So I'm sitting there, enjoying my meal and reading Confessions of a Shopaholic, when I realize that I'm actually getting quite full.

And I've been sitting there for about ten minutes and all of my food is NOT already gone. In fact... I have more than half of my rice still on the plate!

(I should probably point out that I tend to finish meals in about five or so minutes... did I mention that I like food?)

Anyway, I'm wondering why this is happening... and then it hits me: I'm using chopsticks.

And I suck at using chopsticks.

And I've read that it takes your brain a few minutes to actually register that it's full, so if you slow down you're supposed to eat less...

And the chopsticks are definitely making me slow down... and therefore my brain is actually registering that I'm full!

And it ended up taking so long to eat that I had to pack it up to take home!

(Though that was only half because I was full... it's also super boring eating by yourself, even with a good book, so I wanted to leave. But the point is still the same: it took a long time to eat.)

And so, my valuable advice to all who want to drop some weight?

Eat with chopsticks! And not just your Chinese food or your sushi... EVERYTHING!

Pizza would be harder to eat if you had to use chopsticks, thus making you eat less... or at least making you take more time to eat, and therefore allowing your noggin to register that you're satisfied.

Ice Cream would be tough, too.

And Oreos! Think about trying to pull the cookies apart to lick the cream out with two sticks!

Ah well... just an idea.

Someone tell me if it works... I really don't have the patience to try it myself.

Oh, and if you grew up using chopsticks or you're really good at it... then this might not work as well for you as it is for someone like me, who is chopstick challenged. Maybe try eating with some limp spaghetti noodles for the same benefits.

Also, I feel that I should share with all of you that I just found out that I graduated 5th in my major's class. Sure, it's out of only 28 kids... in the easiest major... but it probably explains why I have such fabulous and smart ideas like this.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

For the Love of Jen

I made it through BlissDom '09!

For those of you who don't know, BlissDom was a conference for women who blog and was held in Nashville, TN.

(This means about 300 women (mostly Mommy Bloggers) descended on one tiny hotel in Nashville... and half of them were either preggers or holding a new baby... so hormones were a-flyin.)

(I felt left out and wanted to carry Desmond George McFishy around with me, but the hotel did not have a stroller for him... which is just sad...)

To read all about my adventures there, please click here.

The experience taught me a lot about blogging and increasing readership, but it taught me more about myself.

Like how I CAN go somewhere all by myself. (Even if I do call my boyfriend seventy-billion times... sometimes sobbing... oh well...)

Like how I CAN face my fears over meeting people. (Especially with the help of pharmaceuticals! Woohoo!)

Like how I CAN do something that terrifies me. (Again... thank you drugs!)

(See... don't you want to know what I'm talking about? Then you should have clicked there.)

But, most of all...

It taught me that Jen Lancaster kicks even more ass than I originally thought.

Jen Lancaster is one of my favorite authors.


Because she's hilarious and she isn't afraid to tell it like it is... and she drops the f-bomb a lot, (which I'll admit pretty much guarantees her a little piece of my heart).

She started as a blogger (which she continues today), and then turned her story into three memoirs (her fourth is released this spring).

So I love her even more because she has done what I can only hope to do at some point in my life.

Jen was on a panel at the conference about how to get a book deal, and she gave a fabulous keynote speech.

What I loved most was how gracious and patient she was. She stopped to talk to every single person who wanted an autograph, picture, or to just say hi. And she didn't just shake your hand and walk off, she was very engaging and willing to talk.

It was very exciting to see how down-to-earth she is...

And it makes me feel a little silly for spending so much time at the conference stalking her.

It wasn't scary stalking or anything... it was more me trying to work up the balls to actually go and talk to her.

And involved taking secret pictures of her...

(That's her on the right... upper-right... the one with only her nose and hair showing... I never said they were GOOD stalker photos. I was afraid that if I actually pointed the camera at her she'd see me and then I'd... throw my drink at her and run away...)

(It's always a possibility...)

ANYWAY... I love her... a lot.

And you will too.

So order her books now.

I'll even make it easy for you:

(Her titles are amazing, so I've included them as further enticement for you to get the books...)

Bitter is the New Black : Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass, Or, Why You Should Never Carry A Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office

Bright Lights, Big Ass: A Self-Indulgent, Surly, Ex-Sorority Girl's Guide to Why it Often Sucks in the City, or Who are These Idiots and Why Do They All Live Next Door to Me?
Align Center

Such a Pretty Fat: One Narcissist's Quest To Discover if Her Life Makes Her Ass Look Big, Or Why Pie is Not The Answer

Pretty in Plaid: A Life, a Witch, and a Wardrobe, or, the Wonder Years Before the Condescending, Egomanical, Self-Centered Smart Ass Phase (out this Spring)

Seriously. Go. Order them. And laugh your ass off. Because couldn't we all use a laugh once in awhile?

(I mean... other than from this blog...)

(Oh, and I'm not the official president of Jen Lancaster's fan club or anything (though that would be AWESOME...), but I really enjoy her writing and want to spread the love. Plus, I think that it's important to support bloggers-turned-authors, even if they are already famous.)

Sunday, February 8, 2009

No Competition

I'm home! I made it! I faced my fears and actually survived!

I'll write all about it later (met Jen Lancaster!), but first...

If you've been gone for a few days and you can't wait to see your doggies and cuddle up with them on the couch... then DON'T convince your mother that your doggies REALLY need some yummy treats.

And then DON'T convince her that they also need one, maybe two, brand new kick-ass toys.

(In my defense... she was extremely easy to convince... if she had stood her ground and said "no", then I would be getting my snuggle on with the dogs...)

And then DON'T walk out with really yummy treats and THREE kick-ass toys.

Why? Because when you finally get home...

Your dogs couldn't give a shit about seeing you. I mean, sure, they're happy and all, but then they see the big monkey stuffed animal in your hand and smell the delicious meaty chewy in your purse.

And you therefore become background noise and are only good for cutting off the tags on all of the cool toys.

After letting them chew on their industrial strength bones for about 20 minutes, you get bored and want some lovin' too, so you take the bones away and wait for the onslaught of love to begin.

But then they realize that they now have room in their mouths for all of the kick-ass toys...

Thanks Grandma! Notice how she's sticking her tongue out at the camera (ME)...

And then you realize that one of your dogs is a COMPLETE and UTTER BRAT! If she were a child you would have to put her in timeout and read self-help books about how to get your naughty kid to START SHARING with her SISTER!

If she were a human child you would get calls from the principal's office and she would be sent home from school with notes from Miss Suzie about how a child psychologist might be necessary.

I think that we have a problem... from rhymes with milk on Vimeo.

(And I am completely aware that I sound like a complete and utter asshat... but talking "normally" just doesn't get quite the same response... )

(And I would also like to point out that I had to stop shooting the first attempt at making this video because the TV was on and the commercial was about "female freshness" and there was a huge picture of Vagasil in the background... totally killed the mood.)

(And I guess it's proof that they are both brats given that this video shows off our awesome duct-tape couch... bad doggies.)

That is the one example of when Hannah is more of a bitch than Bonnie... so I guess I can't blame her too much for finally asserting some dominance...

But I guess it can be quite tiring trying to keep track of all of your toys:

Friday, February 6, 2009

On My Own: Part Five (Tiny Update)

My conversation with the bartender:

Me: What's that pretty pink drink?

Bartender: A BlissTini.

Me: Um... fine.

What I really wanted to say: What the fuck is a BlissTini?

Seriously? How the hell is THAT supposed to help?? It's a made up drink for this conference alone... sheesh.

But it tasted like juice so I downed it too fast and now I have a BlissTini induced headache.

But not before some lady backed into me and spilled half of it down my pants.

(Thankfully, it spilled on a BlissTini colored swirl on my shirt and my pants are black... so I didn't have to smack her.)

And I'll never know what was in it... it was probably just off-brand Hawaiian Punch.

(I wonder if I can go steal another one...)

On My Own: Part Four (A Little Less Drama)

Odd things about this hotel:

1) The guide says 24 Hour Room Service. But when I call the front desk at 12:24 PM I am told that I have to go downstairs because Room Service is not, well, in service. Which was fine, except that they had (maybe) 3 people working the restaurant right when 250 (hungry) female bloggers showed up. Thankfully someone took pity on me and let me sit with them.

2) The only vegetarian thing on the menu was grilled cheese. (Not that I'm complaining... grilled cheese is practically its own food group in our house...) Even the salads had meat, and I was not about to start arguing with one of the two waiters about it, because odds are that if I ordered a salad it would still come out with bacon. The grilled cheese, though, was on the kid's menu (what's up with that? Grilled cheese is totally an acceptable item for an adult) so they charged me an extra two dollars as I am, in fact, over the age of twelve. I was so desperate for food that I didn't fight that either. (Side note: interesting that I had to order off of the kid's menu as I am the youngest one here... besides the babies... there are LOTS of babies... but they don't have to order off of the kid's menu as they're still on the boob...)

3) They have a "Spiritual Menu" in my room. I can call down and ask for any book of faith that I choose. Including the Book of Mormon, The Koran, Tao Te Ching (?), and The Torah (I wonder if it's a big one like from Bar Mitzvahs and if a Rabbi has to bring it up... I'm a bad Jew.) I think I'll go for the collection of books on Scientology... that should help calm my nerves.

4) I already told you about Desmond George McFishy. I was afraid that he would die if housekeeping didn't come soon because they feed him... I think. Thankfully my room is clean, so I'm hoping the fact that he's stationary on the bottom of the bowl means that he's full of yummy fishy food... and not slowly dying. (If this fish dies I am SO going to give them a bad review on Expedia.) (Do fish like cherry sours?)

5) There is a really snazzy ice bucket in the room (candy apple red... goes very well with bag of cherry sours), but the plastic liner that goes into the bucket is not the correct size, so when I filled it the ice went everywhere but into the plastic bag. Now, I assume that the plastic bag is in there as some sort of sanitary device... like maybe there is a history of people peeing in these buckets, or using them are receptacles for their dirty needles, and the plastic liner is there to protect me from hepatitis... so, needless to say, I fear that I am chewing on unsanitary ice. (I have to chew on the ice to get the taste of cherry sours out of my mouth...)

6) They have a little card on the bed that talks about how the hotel is trying to "be green". The card is there to give you a choice between wanting new sheets and towels (bad) and wanting to conserve by saving your sheets and towels. One side says "yes - conserve", the other side "no - do not conserve". So if you want to get clean towels... you feel like a douche for saying "don't conserve".

So the conference is going pretty well. I made the mistake of going to an intro session about Social Media because I had NO idea what Social Media was... yeah, it's Twitter and Facebook. And as I Twitter more than I talk to people, I sort of think I have that down. Since I was far too lazy to gather up all of my stuff and move over to the other panel (and I didn't want to be rude...), I just tried to get the most out of it.

I did learn some new things, and I'm meeting people and have a bunch of new people to follow, which is good.

All in all, much better than my mental breakdown yesterday... and it probably only has a teensy little bit to do with the fact that I took some anti-anxiety medication.

Yay for abusing prescription drugs!

(No... abuse would be a pill with a margarita chaser... and stupid room service wouldn't bring me one... 24 hours my ass.)

Thursday, February 5, 2009

On My Own: Part Three (100th POST!!)

Oh my Brad... this is my 100th post!!


I am blogtastic!

(That will be my opening line tomorrow when I meet all of the other bloggers. I should have brought a marker so that I could add it to my business cards...)


So I gathered up my stuff and went downstairs and ran into this blogger and her adorable baby, and she told me that a bunch of people from the conference were putting together swag bags down the hall.

She was super sweet and said I could tag along, so I walked into the room with her and was greeted with about 2 dozen fellow bloggers.

Needless to say, although she was really nice to invite me, I just couldn't do it.

I froze up and spent the next 10 minutes wandering around the lobby trying to summon enough courage to go back into the conference room... but I ended up deciding to try and find some food, instead.

So I walked around outside and realized that the only business nearby is a Kaplan Career Services building.

(I figure that if I have some extra time on my hands I can swing by there and have them decide what I should do with my life...)

So I decided to be a coward and go back to my room to order room service.

(Apparently the only vegetarian meal that they have here in Tennessee is Eggplant Parmesan. Although it's a vegetable, I'm pretty sure deep frying the eggplant negates all health value.)

(But as a girl who has only eaten raisins and cherry sours all day, I'm not one to start lecturing the room service peoples...)

(And eggplant is pretty much only worth eating fried.)

When the room service man came in he said that I didn't have a lava lamp or a pet fish.

I was all, "um yeah... I left 'em at home... (*nervous laughter*)".

He then informed me that I could call the front desk and order a lava lamp or a pet fish.

So, as soon as he left I called Mike (for the 12th time in 3 hours... but this was the first time that I wasn't crying... so progress...) and told him that I could get my own lava lamp or rent-o-fish!

He asked me what I was going to get and I informed him that I didn't really feel comfortable ordering a lava lamp without a black light to go with it...

So I hung up and called the front desk.

Front Desk: This is Chad at the Front Desk, how may I help you?

Me: I was just informed that I could order a pet fish. (I sort of expect him to laugh at me and tell me that it was just a joke that the service staff play sometimes: Convince the Hotel Patrons to ask for Ridiculous Things - CTHPTAFRT for short.)

Front Desk: A pet fish? I'll check to see if we have any available and I will send one up. (How many other people in the hotel are as desperate for company as I am that their rent-o-fish supply is on backorder?)

I was SO excited that they weren't playing a prank on me and that I would have a new pet.

Soon, a nice lady delivered "George" to me.

He's a betta fighting fish (Mike informed me that they don't actually fight and I told him that if they had any extra I'd put them together to test the theory... maybe I'm not quite responsible enough to take care of George...) and red and so pretty. Honestly, "George" just doesn't quite cut it as the perfect fish name for such a beautiful creature.

Especially if he's mine (at least until Sunday).

He needs a sexy name... a little exotic...

Edward! Oh wait... this computer's name is Edward, so that doesn't work (don't want to cause any sort of Mac vs. fish rivalry)...

So I decide to name him "Desmond" because Desmond is one of the best LOST characters and he has a sexy accent... duh.

So I took a bunch of glamor shots of Desmond George McFishy (complete with feather boa) and was all excited to introduce him to the world (slash 25 people who read this blog)... when I noticed that the ONE computer component that I left at home was my camera card reader!

(Seriously? I bring my external hardrive, but I forget this...)

So, his true unveiling will have to wait.

(I think that the fried eggplant is helping... I feel much better. Plus there are reruns of Friends on the TV, which REALLY helps.)

On My Own: Part Two from TN

So when I woke up this morning I was SUPER nervous about this trip.

I was also SUPER angry at myself for not packing last night and instead watching LOST.

(Totally worth it, though.)

So I got up early to pack and was cussing out my bag because I couldn't fit all of my "essentials" in there.

Mike then repacked it and fit everything in there by pointing out that I did NOT need my three pound day planner...


He then drove me to the airport where I cried for no apparent reason except for the fact that I realized that I was ALL BY MYSELF.

It didn't help when I forgot to take the liquids out of my bag (rookie mistake) thus forcing an old man security guard to search my stuff.

(Thankfully he became convinced that I was a law abiding citizen before he went through all of my undies...)

I then had to go to stupid Concourse A which does not have the sandwich place that I like on Concourse B. So I bought 800 calories worth or trail mix and cherry sours as my breakfast.

When I got on the plane the flight attendant scolded me for having an oddly shaped bag that was not regulation size.

(Which is something you think someone could have told me at the half dozen checkpoints I had to go through since leaving the car...)

And then crazy lady sat across the aisle from me.

To avert any crisis (like me attacking crazy lady with my bag of cherry sours), I quickly asked the mean flight attendant if I could sit in the seat in front of me with the empty seat next to it.

(It wasn't all that necessary, as the woman sitting on the other side of the crazy lady was way more overtly rude than me, thus shutting crazy lady right the eff up.)

(Mean girls are sometimes good for something.)

Then, about half way through the flight the sleeping old man in my row offered me a stick of gum.

I thought how nice, and quickly stuck the stick-o-mint in my mouth.

Then I remembered that you are never supposed to take candy from strangers.

(See... I'm not meant to travel alone...)

So I started to think about if gum counts as candy... I mean, I never sit there and crave a nice, rich piece of gum to melt in my mouth... but it is sold in the candy section of the store.

During all of this I realized that I wasn't foaming at the mouth or anything else that might happen if I was being poisoned, so I just enjoyed my gum and went to sleep.

When I got to the airport I was looking for the shuttle to the hotel when a couple of nice men pointed out that I had to actually call the shuttle to have them pick me up.

So I called and was instructed to wait for a silver car. The same men who originally helped me pointed out what my ride was going to look like. They said it would be a silver van and it would have the hotel's name on it.

Well, at first I was a little offended. I mean, I'm competent and all, I could probably figure out which car was mine... right?

Well, I'm actually quite grateful because soon a silver SUV pulled up in front of me and had those men not just told me exactly what my van looked like I would have jumped up and climbed in the back of this poor man's Explorer.

Which would be awkward.

Especially when I would tell him to "step on it, already".

I finally get to the hotel and get into my room and... I completely lost it.

So I called Mike up blubbering like a baby about being completely overwhelmed and he calmed me down and told me it was OK.

Then I got off of the phone and had to physically restrain myself from ordering Twilight off of the in-room movie service to make myself feel better.

(Because Edward Cullen would totally help...)

So instead I decided to blog (which is just fine... I am at a blogging conference).

I should probably take Mike's advice and go to the front desk to find out a good place to eat.

I think I feel like this because of today's diet of yogurt, trail mix, and cherry sours.

And that can't be good.

On My Own: Part One

So I'm on my way to Nashville for BlissDom 09.

I have never been ANYWHERE all by myself, so I'm kind of freaking out.

But I'm distracting myself by blogging about this crazy lady sitting near me.

First, there are two men in the vicinity with a likeness to Santa Claus.

This woman has decided to tell EVERYONE about this (like we can't tell for ourselves)... including her husband, whom she called on the phone to have him talk to the Santa Claus look-alike. Seriously... she made this poor man with a beard talk to her husband on her cell phone.

Dear Lady,

He's not really Santa.


And then she told the people next to me that she is "sorta starting menopause so I'm all over the place with my hot flashes".


I think she just said that she's a therapist.

Brad help her clients.

Must board plane.

More when I get to TN.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Good, Bad, and Just Plain Ugly

The Good:

My friend Mark asked me to help him with his latest photography project.

Because I am such an awesome person, I said yes. (Well... what else was I going to say? "I don't have school... a job... a life... I'm just too swamped"?... no...)

So he said that he needed me to make some fake blood for a suicide scene
(I know... artists are bizarre).

So I immediately thought about how I would have to go out to the shed to try and find some camouflage clothes and some night vision goggles so that I could stalk a squirrel or raccoon and therefore just use their blood...

Then Mark told me that it had to be
vegetarian blood.

(Yeah... that is so not as challenging and why would I wear night vision goggles to make vegetarian blood?)

(And then I realized that I'm also a vegetarian... so it probably would have sucked to kill a squirrel... and I don't even have night vision goggles... just Mike's huge flashlight... which isn't quite as cool...)

So I looked up the ingredients on wikiHow (you can find anything on this here internets) and got a few bottles of corn syrup, food coloring, and chocolate syrup... and made a big tupperwear full of awesome (delicious smelling) fake blood.

(Sometimes it sort of looked like blueberry syrup... but it looks good on camera.)

Photo from Mark's Blog

So, it wasn't quite as exciting as procuring some real blood, but it still turned out cool.

And now I have a new super cool skill to add to my resume.

The Bad:

In an effort to make Mike feel better, I got some Betty Crocker mix for Banana Walnut muffins. I don't bake a lot (at all), so I was very excited when they didn't explode.

(Well... some of them came out raw in the center... and the box clearly said it made TWELVE muffins, and I only got TEN out of the batter... and I did NOT eat two muffins worth of batter... I think...)

Anyway, I was so excited and the ones that were fully cooked tasted delicious.

Then I went out the next day and came home to an empty plate on the counter.
So I put it in the dishwasher and... wait a minute... weren't there a half-dozen (beautiful) muffins wrapped in tin-foil on that plate?

So, my terrible doggies managed to get the tin-foil covered muffins off of the plate (without breaking it... stealthy little criminals), and ate it all (including most of the foil).

(On a side note: how did they split the muffins between the two of them? Did they decide to get the muffins down as a team, or did one just go for it? Did one get more than the other? Who was the brains behind the operation (Bonnie), and who decided how the muffins should be split between the two of them?)

(It certainly makes you think... and makes you move everything off of the kitchen counter when you leave the house...)

That night I was woken up by a strange gurgling noise that I soon found out was coming from Bonnie's tummy:

AllyBSpeakin: Up since 4:30 with a certain dog who has an upset tummy from stealing her Momma's muffins... this is motherhood.

Next thing you know you'll be nursing your 16 year old after it stole your stash of least you are practicing.

Excuse me? My kid will NOT do heroin... By the time I have a kid there's gonna be some super drug that ninjas stole from the govt. My kid is going to be cool... so he'll/she'll be in to that... not old school heroin.

(Just so you know... Bonnie and Hannah are just fine... except for the fact that they are currently playing on the couch and Hannah has managed to get her head stuck in a blanket while Bonnie chews on her ear... that can't be good.)

And The Ugly:

We went to a Super Bowl party at the restaurant where Mike works.

As part of the shenanigans, the restaurant gets a whole bunch of free stuff to give to the employees.

All of the stuff is promotional crap (I mean awesome products) from alcohol companies.

So, among all of the t-shirts, hats, and keychains, what does my boyfriend grab?

A metal picture of a bottle of Jagermeister...

Which he put up on the wall...

In the kitchen.

Yes... we are now those people.

And so, if any of you need some fake blood, badly behaved dogs, or a metal picture of booze (with the caption "Urban Legend")... contact me.


PS: To see Mark's project (and my awesome blood), and you are on a Windows machine, you can click here. If you're on a Mac, you have to go here (you may have to download something, but it's worth it...).

Monday, February 2, 2009

Pimp My Blog

Mike totally rules...

My pretty blog, with it's custom header, totally kicks ass...

Isn't it beautiful!?!

So, all of you computer programmers out there looking to hire some young talent: hire my boyfriend... now.

We're running out of food.

The electricity is going to be turned off.

The only thing I have to feed to the dogs is dead squirrel.

We need money.

(OK, not really. We do need money, but the electricity is still going strong, the dogs are fine (they have real food to eat... they just prefer dead animals), and the only reason we're out of food is because I'm just too lazy to go to the store...)

(But I'm trying to pull at the heart strings of computer programmers looking to hire...)

(And please note that I realize that we are VERY lucky to NOT have those problems, as there are many, MANY people out there who actually don't have electricity and whose doggies are starving.)

(If you are one of those people and you are a computer programmer, I hope you get a job soon...)

(Right after Mikey.)

So PLEASE hire him.

Because this blog is now certifiably sexy.

(Oh! I should so have Mike put that on his resume...)