Sunday, December 21, 2008

The Great Choir Caper

Mission: To gain entrance to Andy's sold out choir concert.
Tactic: unknown

Andy and I discussed several possible tactics as we headed toward the concert hall. "You could sneak in with me," he suggested, "then you could climb the ladder and watch the concert from the ceiling." Tempting, though I have never been up there nor am I familiar with the hall's set up. "I think I will see if there are any tickets left unclaimed," I wussed out. We arrived at the concert hall two hours before the concert's start. I sat down to read my book and patiently waited for the box office to open.
Finally, the box office opened and I watched person after person leave in despair without ticket in hand. The rumor was true. There were no more tickets left. I gathered my courage approached the box office. "How may I help you?" asked a voice that was obviously tired of saying the same thing over and over again. "I was wondering how I would go about getting into the concert." "Umm," she stammered, "The concert is sold out." "Right, I'd heard that. I was just wondering if there was an usher I could bribe or something." "Oh," she said apparently taken back by my bluntness, "Well, the box office closes at 8 and at that time we leave the unclaimed tickets out for whoever. Now, I'm not telling you that you should take someone else's ticket, but that's what I would do if I were trying to get into the concert." I thanked her and went back to my hidden reading area to ponder my newly obtained information.
The lady had told me 8pm. Well, that obviously wouldn't work since the concert started at 7:30. I thought. I had to come up with something else. I paced the halls to the west of the concert hall seeing if there were any open doors. Then I tried the hallway to the east of the concert hall. I found the ladder that supposedly led to the ceiling and seriously thought about exploring it. I chickened out and went back to my undiscovered reading spot to regroup.
I was faced with a problem. I needed to get into a room that was guarded by six ushers. All entrances were locked save the ones that had guard dogs. However was I to get in?
I decided to wait it out. I waited until I heard applause from inside the concert hall and ventured out to see the status of the ushers.
With my back to the wall, I investigated the theater's perimeter. It seemed safe. I slowly crept toward the entrance and with a quick look around, I opened the heavy door. Stealthily I stole into the hallway. This was it. I needed only to go through one door to be in the concert hall. I reached for the door...DRAT! I was suddenly face to face with an usher. The following conversation commenced in hushed voices:
"Hello," the usher said. "Are you going in?"
"Yes," I replied. "I am going in."
"Do you have a ticket?"
I thought about that. Lie? "No," I said pointedly.
"So, you don't have a ticket?"
"Why didn't you buy one?"
"I tried. The concert was sold out. There were no more tickets left to buy."
"Right," he replied growing ever confused. "The concert IS sold out."
I smiled and did my best to look whatever look allows certain women get whatever they want. "Are you telling me there isn't a single vacant seat in there? Not one open seat?"
It must have worked. The man smiled a crooked smile and told me that there were, in fact, four vacant seats directly above us. He held the door for me as I ducked inside to claim one of the vacant seats. I was able to enjoy the entire concert and marveled and Andy's glorious voice (which, of course, I can pick out from the other 300 voices singing with him).
Mission accomplished.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Meet Morty

Andy and I have obtained a cat. His name is Mort Goldman (fondly after the hypochondriatic character from Family Guy) and he was graciously rescued by my friend Megan and her mom.
This little cat has been my joy for the five weeks that we have had him. He is silly and loves to play (at 4:30 am). He loves sitting in Andy's shoes and is fascinated by the laces. He has learning to climb and exercises his muscles regularly (most recently on our Christmas tree). But Mort now is not the Mort we brought home in November.
November 14th: April was scheduled to come into town for the NKOTB concert and I was scheduled to pick up a kitten. After months of bugging Andy about getting a cat, he finally caved when my friend, Megan, posted that she found a kitten that needed a home. How could he say no?
After work, I rushed home, grabbed andy, and we drove to Ogden to retrieve our new family member. It was, indeed, love at first sight. Megan's mom handed me the kitten and he immediately snuggled into my neck and began purring.
This was the cat for me. After an emotional goodbye, we brought the kitten home.
At this point, the cat remained nameless. He stayed in his crate, absolutely petrified by our enormous one bedroom apartment. To encourage him, I made a trail of food out of the crate. No good. I tried to lure him out by introducing a small moving object such as a shoelace. That sent him into a panic. Andy suggested that I give up and let him come out on his own terms. Ok. I went to set up the litter box. Hours passed and the cat remained frozen in his carrier. Nothing I did seemed to help ease his anxiety.
The time came to pick my sister up from the airport. I moved the cat carrier into the laundry room (which held his food, water and litter box).
When April and I walked into the apartment, I immediately raced to his carrier to see if he had gained courage in my absence. The crate was empty! Frantic, I began searching the apartment to see where he could be.
April and I looked behind the washer and dryer, in all of the cupboards, behind the dvds, behind the tv, behind and under the couch, behind the refigerator, under the bed, behind the dresser, in the closet, under the ottoman, behind the bookshelves, in the garbage, behind the toilet, in the shower, in the fireplace, up the fireplace...everywhere. I stripped the bed, pulled all of the laundry out and then rechecked all of those places. April helped me search and then went to check outside to see if he had escaped while we came in. No kitty was to be found.
I panicked and called Andy. I begged Andy to come home and help me look. 'Don't worry, Candace. He'll come out when he's ready.' You don't understand!! I can't find him anywhere! What if he is stuck somewhere?! What if he is outside in the cold?!!? What if he is starving?!?
Extremely distraught, I decided to take Andy's advice and just wait for him to come out.
Four hours passed with no sign of the cat. Andy finally came home and noticed that I was less than calm. Andy did a quick sweep through the apartment and told me that the cat was under the fridge. Not behind it, under it. That means that April and I moved the refrigerator to look behind it while he was still under it.
We moved the fridge and pulled the now smelly cat out.
He immediately snuggled and began purring. Turns out he didn't want to be left alone. He got scared in such a big place.
Happy ending

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Choose your own adventure: Candace's graceful flight

Read the story and choose your own adventure!

In her usual rush to catch the 4:30 train, Candace quickly punches her time card and logs out of her computer at 4:23. Without much thought other than making the train she runs to the stairs behind her office. If Candace decides to be lazy and take the elevator, please skip to PART V. If Candace takes the stairs continue to PART II.

Candace wishes her co-workers a pleasant weekend and walks through the door to the stairwell. She realizes that he had received a voicemail while she was at work. If Candace decides to wait until she reaches the train before checking her voicemail, skip to PART VI. If Candace absentmindedly grabs her phone to check her messages, continue to PART III.

Candace grabs her phone and looks to see who called her. This small, insignificant decision distracts Candace. This small, insignificant distraction causes Candace to miss the first step. As Candace misses the first step, she drops her phone (which plummets down the thirteen stair flight) and grabs the railing for dear life. She lets out a desperate cry as her shins make contact with the second stair with all of her body weight assisting the collision. If Candace is able to catch herself there skip to PART VII. If Candace loses her hold on the railing, continue to PART IV.

As Candace's shins endure an unbelievable amount of pressure due to the sandwiching of them by the stair and the rest of her body, her hand slips off of the hand rail and she tumbles down the thirteen stair flight, not unlike her phone. Candace is able to hit every stair and hand rail available to her and finally finds solace on the landing. She sits there stunned as she catches her breath, assesses the situation, and finds the courage to see if anything is broken. To find out what happens next, skip to PART VIII.

Candace wishes her co-workers a pleasant weekend and decides that she doesn't feel like taking the stairs. Candace takes the elevator, chastises herself for being so lazy, and safely walks to the train.

Candace leaves her phone where it is, understanding that she should pay attention the the stairs as she descends them. Candace safely makes it downstairs, to the train and proceeds to check her messages from the comfort, safety, and warmth of trax.

Candace is able to steady herself and make sure that neither tibia is broken. She chuckles to herself for being such a klutz and slowly walks down the four flights of stairs, picking her discarded phone on the way. Candace makes it safely to the train and retrieves her voicemail.

Candace doesn't think anything is broken as she can move her feet with only screaming pain. She tries to stand. Since nothing snapped upon standing, Candace figures her legs probably aren't broken. Candace decides to screw the following three flights of stairs and takes the elevator. After retrieving her phone, she hobbles out of the hospital in which she works and limps across the street. She finds refuge and comfort on trax and forgets about the voicemail. Who cares anyway. She calls her sister to regale the tale.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

All cheery and ho ho ho all the time.

How do I describe to you the amazing experience which I endured in Arkansas this evening? My family and I went to support the neighborhood tree lighting ceremony. It was all you could imagine a good ol' down home tree lighting ceremony should be. We stood in the moist cold and waited for some old dude (extroardinarily long winded) to finish thanking all of the sponsors. When he was finished a very nice minister by the name of 'Naughty reverend' as evident by a very festive sweatshirt, gave the crowd an extensive backstory of the song 'have yourself a merry little christmas' as sung by the radiant Judy Garland from the movie Meet me in St. Louis which we never actually sung. Once he finished we awkwardly joined in with Silent Night as can only be heard by dogs. In otherwords, only an eleven-year-old boy could hit the notes. But everyone tried anyway. The tree itself, I fear I cannot do justice. While it was larger than the well-loved 'Charlie Brown Christmas' tree, it was dwarfed when compared to say, a normal christmas tree. Decorated well with random fruit and glass bulbs, the tree was gloriously lit with lights from walmart (on sale for $2.88!).
After freezing and pretending to sing, we moved inside to observe the after party. Within the warmth of the country club we had the pleasure of conversing with some of the locals. Here are a few topics of choice:
1. A very sweet old man was describing the abomination of black friday. On thursday, he had found a jacket he liked which was 50% off with an additional 30% off but was told that the following day would be an additional 40% off. Upon returning the following day, he found that it was 40% off with an additional 40% off. Either way, it cost the same. He mentioned that the aforementioned worker was a shyster. He mentioned it not once but thrice.
2. The nearby amusement park has their very own award winning production of the Christmas Carol. This show is... tolerable, at best. They have recently added new numbers to make usual 30 minute show a painful 60 minute show. As I remarked about the new addition, a lady told me, "Well, it's great theater if you haven't been to places like New York and Idaho."
3. As more and more people began emerging with various plates loaded with food. A woman who was not quite of average weight emerged with two large plates of food. She passed us and squeezed past a few others to find a seat. A woman wearing a "Nice" sweatshirt (who I assume was the 'Naughty' counterpart) noticed this ample woman and said, "Oh! Are you feeding everybody?" If I were the woman with the two plate of food, I might have told Mrs. Nice to gain some friggin' tact. In all honesty, Naughty and Nice were demonstrably reversed.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

They've still got the right stuff...

Last weekend I had the honor, nay, the sheer joy of attending the New Kids on the Block concert with my sister. To really do this story justice, I must start the narration around 12 pm, when the fun began. Because of our extremely early rising (at the lovely hour of 9) we were able to get an early start, departing my department around 11. We ran a few errands with the NKOTB in mind. The first stop was Joann's for the absolutely necessary iron on letters. Were these iron on letters necessary? The answer is yes. With our iron-on letters in hand, we turn our sights to Nordstrom rack for boots. April found quite the kick-ass pair of knee high black boots and I decided on a pair of purple suede boots. Growing ever confident, we made our final stop at American Apparel, the only place you can find every style of t-shirt ever thought up (that's about all you can find there). April found a green t-shirt, while I chose a plain jersey with purple sleeves (seems to be the color of choice for such an evening).
With our outfits complete, we headed to Meg's house to visit and begin the creative process.
As little girls, my sister and I had many shrines to our beloved New Kids. April had the New Kids birthday party, we had every album, and we even had a few NKOTB barbie dolls (which I promptly removed the rat tails with my trusty scissors). I just want you to understand that this is love that is 19 years in the making. April will not settle for anything less than Jordan Knight, and while I am madly in love with Andy, Danny Wood will always hold a special place in my heart. This is the back story for our homemade t-shirts. Honestly, how many 23-27 year olds do you know who can sing "Didn't I blow your mind this time?" in its entirety?
After exercising our brilliant creativity, we returned home to put the outfits together and primp for our boys.Excitement filled a two mile radius surrounding the E Center of West Valley City, UT. While singing (yelling, rather) various New Kids tunes we handed over the $10 parking fee and skipped to find out seats.We had many false alarms during which we heard loud cheering and screaming...we never found out exactly why people were screaming. At that point, we were still about an hour from actually seeing the New Kids on the Block. That gave April and me just enough time to use the restroom, grab a beer, and find our seats.
We sat through two thoroughly forgettable opening acts. We confusedly watched Lady Gaga gyrate around the stage using her magic glowing crystal as her own personal spotlight. girl sang five songs, yet one would never know it. It truly was one long continuous song. It wasn't until after she finished that April informed me that she actually had performed five songs. Amazing. Next up was Natasha Bettingfield. At least this girl could carry a tune. She could belt and stay on pitch (novel concept). The only shame about this performer is that her songs are so terrible. Truly a shame.
Finally, the 'moment I have waited for my entire life' as April so aptly put it, came.
The crowd roared with anticipation as a large screen asked the crowd if they were ready. With this prompt, the E center began to rattle with excitement! As the glorious harmonies of the new kids barely raised over the already rambunctious crowd, each woman in the audience exploded with excitement. April and I grabbed each others' hands and jumped up and down.

We screamed like ten-year-old girls and sang the well known songs at the top of our lungs. We realized from time to time how old the 'new kids' were. I gained a new appreciation for Danny as I watched the now 38 year old take a two minute break dance solo. April practically flew out of her seat as Jordan took the microphone topless.
April flew to Salt Lake all the way from San Francisco to see this concert. Was it worth it? Definitely. Step by step they proved that they have the right stuff. Hang tough, boys. You totally blew our minds this time.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008


Before anything is written I must dedicate this blog to Dr. Smith, without whom the documented festivities would not have been possible. Thank you, Dr. Smith, for your generosity.

The office in which I work is filled with very competent professionals backed by several medical and administrative assistants. During work hours we are serious (mostly) but last week we decided to let our hair down for a fun night in Deer Valley.

After much fretting about the possible caption for this photo, I decided that it was impossible for me to come up with anything that could be considered 'family friendly'.

Sher found a robe and drank with great gusto. This was shortly after she put on a Bret Michaels album and serenaded the lot of us. It was stellar.

I felt that this was a great demonstration of the overall feel of our little soiree.

Also, Dr. Smith, Andrea wasn't lying when she said that she and Melissa were spooning. I hereby present you with proof.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

The happiest place on earth

This weekend we had several things to celebrate. First and foremost, Andy celebrated his 27th birthday. Next, Saturday marked our official 6 months to our wedding. Thirdly, Monday was our 4.5 year anniversary (yes, I still celebrate the six month marker). We decided that the only place that could handle such celebration was Disneyland...the happiest place on earth.

We got stuck inside the Matterhorn and had to walk through the ride to get out. We saw it with the lights on which broke the illusion, but was secretly really cool.

Andy found a delicious Turkey leg...I stuck with mouse ears ice cream bar.

I fell in love with WALL-E all over again.

We found out that I still hold the title of the Wicked Queen and we also learned that Andy's disney character is Mulan. Ask him about it. He is really excited.
Andy tried desperately to pull the sword from the stone.

We decided that Disneyland is still one of our favorite places to be. Happy Birthday, Andy!!

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Proof of why you shouldn't do your cousin- a Halloween tale

I have been to hell and back. I have seen many frights that the world has to offer. During this time of ghosts, vampires, and such, I enjoy a good scary story. Usually I seek out said story in a film, book, or frightmares at lagoon. Never did I expect that these horrors would find me at work.

On a busy day, I was given the task of receiving patients from the waiting room and showing them back into their individual rooms. I enjoy this assignation from time to time...I walk out to the front with a smile on my face, call a name, and make small talk as I show them to their room. Approximately two o'clock in the afternoon, I walk out to the waiting room. I call the name written on the chart. No one answers. I call it again. From the corner of my eye, I notice a woman recognize the name and give me a toothless grin. She walks into the child play room to gather what I assume to be her children, but was surprised when she emerged with a tall adult man with a matching toothless grin. He gives me a goofy wave and holds a finger up, which I assume is meant to tell me to hold on for a second. He and his significant other turn their back to me and face the tv in the children's play room. I wait, and wait, and wait. The people are not talking. The are not moving. They motionlessly watch the television.

After about two or three minutes, I grow a little restless. I call the name again, louder this time. Both of the adults slowly turn to look at me and slowly turn back to the tv. I look around the crowded waiting room and see a mirror image of confusion staring back at me. For the fourth time, I call the name. Finally the mom begins to walk toward be followed by her toothless husband and two children. I start leading them back to their designated room.

"How are you doing today?" I ask, trying to mask my irritation.

Mom stares at me like a deer caught in the headlights. Dad continues picking at a mole he has spotted on his finger. The two children stare ahead like a really awkward pair from 'Village of the Damned.' I immediately abandon my conversation and show them to their room.
I inform them that the doctor would like new x-rays. At this information the dad looks at me and tells me that his child will not cooperate without a parent there. "That's fine," I reply. "You or your wife are welcome to go with him." With that having been said I told them that it wouldn't be too long of a wait and I left to continue on with my duties.
Five minutes later I pass the x-ray room and pass the odd parents staring at the wall. These people weren't looking at anything in particular, just staring blankly at the wall. Soon after seeing them, I remember that they had a smaller child who wasn't present during the fascinating wall stare. I hurried back to their room and find the four year old sitting on the floor, playing with his shoelaces, and singing to himself. He noticed I was there and smiled at me. Smiling is nice, but a little creepy when given by a child with a foot long head with a four inch face. It's creepy. I smile back, ask if he is ok, and resume my job.
After I room a few more patient, I hear loud talking from the hallway. I peek my head outside of the room I was in and see this strange family in a huddle in the middle of the hall. I close the door and move closer to investigate. I approach the family and make out what is creating the loud noise. Mom was reading aloud from a book to her family. As she read the boys and dad had their hands clasped and their heads bowed. I took a closer look and saw that she was reading "Mouse Soup." I cleared my throat. Slowly they all turned toward me.
"Hi. Sorry. I need you to be in your room, please."
Silence. The family continues to stare.
"See, the doctor will be coming soon and it will be easier for him to see you in your room."
Mom looks astonished. "But, I'm reading," she proclaims.
"Yes. And you are welcome to continue. It would be great if you would continue your reading in your room." I smiled hoping she got the point.
"But, I'm reading," she stammers.
I realize that this could go on for a while. I walk past the family and open the door to their room. I put my arm toward the door to show them that I wanted them in the room. Silently, the family walked single file into the room. I shut the door and wash my hands of them completely.

I continue to have nightmares.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Six months and counting...

Since the big day is six months away (on Saturday!!) I thought I would give everyone an update with the planning and such.
We have a place for the ceremony and reception. We have a photographer and a florist. I have my dress and the bridesmaid dresses were delivered yesterday! We have two pastors and an awesome line. We have printed out the save the date cards and they will be in the mail tomorrow.

After all of this planning, we are retreating to Disneyland for Andy's birthday!

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

The Katydid; or, that which is my enemy

After a trying day of work I pondered the idea of picking up dinner on the way home. I considered my options and decided on the Mad Greek who not only has a delicious diet chicken platter, but is also two blocks away from my home. I struggled with the idea 'Candace, you should just make something you already have' then realized that meal would consist of tater tots and a grilled cheese sandwich. Yeah, I know. It's time to go grocery shopping.

Eager to eat my delicious dinner and watch the debate, I got off the freeway and headed toward the Mad Greek. I pull up to the speaker where you order, roll down my window, and confidently tell the employee that I would like a diet chicken platter (delicious!). As I begin to pull toward the pick-up window, something flies into my car, scares the crap out of me, and decided to rest on my cheek. In my extreme surprise (including screaming), I jerked my car to the right, making a somewhat forceful contact: tire to curb. I hit the breaks, took a breath, and analyzed the situation. By this time, the large flying object had moved from my face to my shoulder. It was a katydid.

My senses recovered and I was able to drive to the window. The katydid seemed to enjoy the ride. He was not unlike a really small dog, perched on my shoulder and ready to take on the world.

"Looks like you got a friend there, miss," said the jovial Mad Greek Employee indicating the bug on my shoulder.

My facial expression must have mimicked the profanity going through my head. He promptly gave me my change and handed me my much deserved meal.

My heart rate continued to slow, but wasn't quite back to normal yet. The katydid and I pulled out of the establishment and made our way two blocks to my apartment. As I went over the speed bumps that my landlords deem necessary, my car seemed sluggish. I suspected the worst. I quickly found a parking spot and walked around to look at the flat tire. I sighed a heavy sigh. Figures. I looked at the katydid and we shrugged.

The katydid has since found a new place to live (rather than my shoulder). He found a nice hedge that he has decided to rent out and seems to be doing well. As for me, I enjoyed my chicken platter and am waiting for the tire center at Sam's Club to open.

The end.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Just a quick note...

This morning as I pulled into the parking structure, my normal routine was immediately halted by an idiot (let's call him Bud) trying to back into a parking spot. Bud (who obviously didn't care that some of us needed to catch the 7:15 train) attempted backing his unnecessarily large penis-mobile into a compact stall not once, but thrice.
I, as well as the four cars now stacked up behind me, waited patiently as Bud tried over and over again to achieve the perfect back in.

Here's a thought that Andy and I have discussed at great length over our 4.5 years together. People back in to save time when leaving. But really, it doesn't save any time. When it takes you four minutes to back into a stall you aren't saving any time just because you can just hit the gas when you leave. It may take 30 seconds for you to leave, but you have already wasted four minutes backing in. If you can't make it on the first shot, don't waste your time. What exactly are you trying to prove?

Bud was not exactly masterful at maneuvering his vehicle. Well done, Bud. I am really glad I didn't miss my train.


Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Wingdings and other things....

There is a program used at my place of work that is...tempermental, at best. It is a poorly designed, glorified data base which is an evil necessity for everyone in the office. Everyday we log on and pray that the program will be having a good day. We keep our fingers crossed as we ask the program (ever so nicely) for the needed information. You can hear various groans or verbal signs of joy as the program decides whether you are among the lucky. 40% of the time, you are not.

My issues with the program is not that it will duplicate information by itself or even that it will only give you information on its own terms. My complaint lies solely in the printing from the program.

Once the desired documet is found, you ask to print it. The program gives you multiple formats with which to print. You choose one and print. Then you must decide the amount, the pages, and the printer (as a default for all or any of these is not an option). The last step is going into the program preferences and checking the box that reads 'print as image.' Should you not check this box, your document will print as nothing but wingdings and you will have to start over. Guess how many times I have made that mistake. :)

Here is my question. What is a wingding? How did this foreign language find its way into the workplace? Are there people out there who can actually read this craziness? For me, it simply frustrates me. If you happen to know the history of the wingding, please, enlighten me. I really want to know.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

The people in charge of your well being

I am well versed in the ways of insurance companies. I speak in code and I can usually spout jargon at any given time. I impress Andy with my vast knowledge of billing codes that correspond with various diagnoses and procedures that you may find in your run of the mill orthopedic clinic.
In my time here I have dealt with some very helpful people, some very unhelpful people, and some down-right incompetent people. This post pertains to the latter.

The People in Charge of Your Well Being:

"Pregnancy will be covered as any other sickness" a quote from a recording one must sit through to speak to a customer service representative. This isn't about an incompetent person; it just struck me as silly.

"Why does a dentist care if a kid has screws in his hips?" a quote from a confused person who didn't know the difference between an orthopedist and an orthodontist.

"We need a diagnosis to approve the requested diagnostic service." An answer given to me by a customer service representative of a very large and popular insurance company.

An actual conversation:
Rep: "What is your name?"
Me:"Candace. May I have yours?"
Me:"No, that's my name. May I have your name?"
Rep:"Your name? Candace"
Me:"Right. Candace. That's my name. What's yours?"
Me:"Your name is Candace?"
Rep:"No. It's Theresa."

To think, these are the people that decide whether your surgery will be approved. Brilliant. Who says we don't need Health Care reform?

Friday, September 5, 2008

A few choice words

The English language is funny, don't you think? It is so easy to make up your own words by adding -ish, -ing, -ly or whatever suffix you wish.

However, some people use the English language thinking they are correct, but missing the boat completely. Here are a few choice words/phrases/pronunciations:

"Supposebly"- This is used by the people who are just confused. However, the people who use this word are certain that their variation on this word is correct.

"Irregardless"- Though this is technically a word, it is misused and makes a person sound stupid.(Usage Note: Irregardless is a word that many mistakenly believe to be correct usage in formal style, when in fact it is used chiefly in nonstandard speech or casual writing. Coined in the United States in the early 20th century, it has met with a blizzard of condemnation for being an improper yoking of irrespective and regardless and for the logical absurdity of combining the negative ir- prefix and -less suffix in a single term. Although one might reasonably argue that it is no different from words with redundant affixes like debone and unravel, it has been considered a blunder for decades and will probably continue to be

A lazy tongue: Pronouncing the word "Sale" as "Sell." Also pronouncing the word "Seal" as "Sell." For instance: "Did you see the sell they had at wet sell?" No joke, Andy and I heard this sentence actually spoken at Gateway mall. Yikes.

Dropping the 'T'- Usually found in Utah, this speech anomaly is also due to a lazy mouth. Words such as mountain and fountain mysteriously are rewritten as someone puts them into a sentence. "That fou_ain is right below the moun_ain...You know, just east of Lay_on?

"But at the same time"- I worked with a person who used this phrase countless times in one day (every day). Though she used it with confidence I very much doubt that she ever thought about the meaning of what she was saying. She would throw two thoughts at random into a sentence and link them with 'but at the same time'. "I like to drive to work, but at the same time, I could really go for a bologna sandwich."

Please feel free to add your own stories and examples. I'd love to hear them!

Friday, August 15, 2008

Gas prices

Yesterday I filled up my car. I drove to the nearest Tesoro and felt some .
satisfaction that the price read $3.99/gallon. Like a child at Christmas, I inserted my debit card, chose the type of gas and began filling my car. How wonderful it was to be filling up at something other than $4.17/gallon
The handle clicked, telling me that the tank was full. I grabbed the receipt that read $48.12 and climbed into my car.

Then I realized how pathetic it was. I paid $48 instead of $53. Either way it was way more than I want to put into my car twice a month. The happiness I had felt at $3.99/gallon disappeared. I am a product of conditioning.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Pardon me. I just vomitted.

Ever wonder what the SLC fire department does during their spare time while on call? Allow me to enlighten you.
The fun began at Smith's supermarket around 11 am. As the usual process proceeded, I obtained the vegetables, fruit, cheese, tortillas, etc. All was normal until I approached the breakfast meat. Two women stood to my left (a twenty-year-old and a forty-year-old who thought she was a twenty-year-old)debating over which pre-packed hamburgers would be the best. To my right was a group of firemen who were standing in a huddle, sneaking peaks at the hamburger women, obviously trying to formulate the best plan of action. It must be mentioned that that these firemen were in no way attractive. They were old, ugly, fat, and greasy.

One of Salt Lake's bravest hitched up his pants and abandoned his huddle in pursuit of the burger ladies. I tried to concentrate on which bacon to purchase as I heard possibly the most feeble pick-up attempt ever tried:

Fireman: Hey, ladies (said the greaser in a 'come hither' voice). Are you gonna cook us dinner? (low laughter from the huddle of firemen)
Burger Girls: HAhahahahaha! No! We were just buying some stuff for our camping trip.
Fireman: I hope you ladies aren't going alone. There are bears up there.
B.G.: Hahahahahahahahaha!(Older lady:) No, no! My boyfriend is going with us. HAhahahahaha.
Fireman:Well maybe I should go too. I don't know what kind of
man your boyfriend is.
B.G.: Ahahahahahaha! Well, if we do get mauled by a bear, hopefully we will be drunk enough to not feel it. We have all sorts of beer and liquor to take with us. Hahahaha!
Fireman: Mmmm, beer. We do that while we're on the clock!
Huddle and BG erupt into laughter. I grabbed the nearest pack of bacon and left.

I continue my shopping picking up milk, eggs, and soda on my way. I stop in front of the yogurt and try to decide if I want to drinkable yogurt or the regular cup of yogurt. I was in the middle of this maddening predicament when out of the corner of my eye I see a huddle of firemen.
'Dear Jesus,' I prayed. 'Please don't let what I think is going to happen, happen.'
I pretend not to notice the unfortunate looking firemen as I grabbed the nearest yogurt choice and sped off toward the register.

"Excuse me, ma'am," hissed the same greasy voice. I turned to face him, obviously annoyed that he was standing there. "You seem to have a lot of groceries in your cart." He smiled at some inside joke that I apparently missed.

"Thank you?" I replied, unsure if he was making a compliment or an observation.

He swaggered up a little closer to me. Unfortunately not close enough for me to feel threatened. Lord knows what would have come from that. "Are you going to cook dinner for us?"

I couldn't believe it. He was using the same line on me. Out of the million retorts that ran through my head I could only spit out a disgusted "no" before walking away.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

I relish the stupidity of others


Jacksonville police say Reginald Peterson needs to learn that 911 is not the appropriate place to complain that Subway left the sauce off a spicy Italian sandwich.

Police said the 42-year-old man dialed 911 twice last week so he could have his sub made correctly. The second call was to complain that officers weren't arriving fast enough.

Subway workers told police Peterson became belligerent and yelled when they were fixing his order. They locked him out of the store after he left to call police.

When officers arrived, they tried to calm Peterson and explain the proper use of 911. Those efforts failed, and he was arrested on a charge of making false 911 calls.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Musical Massacre

I am really tired of Hollywood making decent musicals into abhorringly bad movies. I am tired of getting my hopes up over and over again by movie musicals that promise a good time, great talent, and integrity of the script, then...nothing. You spend $8 to see a piece of crap; a display of every and any actor that wants to try his/her hand at singing. Guess what kids, THEY SUCK! God forbid these casting directors choose people who actually have talent. God forbid they choose people who don't make your ears bleed the moment they open their mouths. Even if the actor has a mediocre voice, why was that particular person chosen over thousands of others who have 10x more talent. As a paying customer, it is a travesty. Shame on me. You think I would learn my lesson one of these days.
This weekend I was, once again, underwhelmed by big names and crappy voices that made up the latest of musical massacres. I sat and cringed as a man croaked out 'Knowing me, Knowing you.' I rolled my eyes as 'Dancing Queen' all of sudden transitioned into a slow motion montage of an old lady jumping on the bed (even though the music itself was at the normal tempo). I was frustrated as the songs I know and love were changed, defiled, and at times, completely deleted from the movie. On the whole, Mama Mia did not thrill me. I will add it to my list of forgettable movie musicals (which consists of: Phantom of the Opera, Evita, Rent, Sweeney Todd, and others that don't happen to come to mind at the moment).
If you loved Mama Mia or any other movie musicals that I have jotted down, I mean no offence. I am not looking for anyone to challenge me, as this is my opinion. I am thoroughly tickeled if these films were able to entertain, nay, inspire you. Wonderful. I am so glad for you.
My stance is that standards should not be lowered to excell at the box office. I am disappointed in the casting directors (for choosing this), the authors of the play (to allow it to happen), and people like me (who will pay $8 to see crap hoping that they will be wrong).

Monday, July 14, 2008

The perfect dress...

My darling friend, Kirsten, is getting married in September! In the midst of the renting, scheduling, reserving, and planning, Kirsten is faced with the question that so many before her have faced: Vanity or practicality?
Sure, she could buy a dress for a few thousand dollars and look simply spectacular or she could spend a few hundred, use the other money elsewhere, and still look fabulous. However, Kirsten is faced with a third and very compelling possibility: Obtain an 80s monstrosity from an unnamed relative, rip it apart and turn it into something awesome!
Here begins the journey to make the perfect dress.

Here is the dress as it was presented to Kirsten. Sadly, we didn't think to include the hat in this picture. Take my word for is awesome.

Notice the incredibly chic lace collar along with the pleated skirt (the height of sophistication). Also notice how the waistline of the skirt is a good 4 inches lower than where it should be. I don't feel the need to point out the puffy sleeves or the sequined applique...those speak for themselves.

First step: Detach the hideous demons that were the sleeves. This was no little feat...after 10-15 minutes of trying to kill the monster with a seam ripper, I realized that this task required something a little more serious. I brought out my trusty scissors and chopped the beasts off! Here they are weak and helpless, waiting to be made into straps.

Second step: Figure out a way to place the waistline where it should be: at the waist. So, raise the dress four inches (creating a more modest neckline) and taking the dress in where necessary. The beading and sequins needed to go, but that would come in due time.

Third step: Attach straps and figure out what to do with the back. Kirsten liked the look of the buttons, but not quite all 63 of them. So, attach straps, reinforce them, create a new line in the back, reattach buttons.

Because the structure of the dress became non-existent with the detachment of the sleeves, we chose to create the criss-cross straps for structural security.

Fourth step: Dry clean the dress and add the crinoline (or petticoat, or slip, whatever). Add the sash to tie in Wedding colors.

Fifth step: Bustle the back of the dress. We used several under bustles. Realize that the criss-cross straps are asinine and make the dress into a halter (creating easier movement for the bride).

Sixth step: Add the veil. Voila: the completed look in six easy steps!

The finished product. Doesn't she look stunning?

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Tanning by Moonlight

After a grueling workout session on Monday, Hilary and I decided we needed a fun, easy workout on Tuesday. We decided that a game of tennis and a pleasant swim would do just the trick.
We donned our bathing suits with our tennis clothes over them, grabbed our tennis rackets and made our to toward the tennis court. We were so excited to give our hurting muscles a break and spend the evening having fun.
As we approached the tennis court we saw two men (whose shirts seemed to have gone missing) were already occupying the court. They smacked the ball back and fourth as if they were using a wet fish as opposed to a racket. Hilary and I sighed in unison. "How long do you think you will be playing?" Hilary shouted across the court. One of the half naked men noticed our existence and shrugged. Awesome.
We redirected and chose to go swimming first. Entering the pool area was comparable to entering a lame dance club for 13-year-olds. The three little girls in bikinis (much too revealing)
were enjoying the ever present bass beat that made us normal people feel a little nauseous. Aside from the constant 'boom boom' felt by all of your internal organs, there was very little melody to be found. I can't tell you what it was that was playing, only that it could be classified as crap. Hilary and I slowly began removing our shorts hoping that the ongoing tennis game would end before we got down to only our bathing suits. No dice. Hilary and I observed the children for a while as they whispered to each other and giggled like the thirteen-year-olds that they were. We got into the water and half-heartedly swam for a bit, chatting and enjoying the cool water, when all of the sudden we heard a string of obscenities emerge from one of the children. Hilary's expression mirrored mine as we stared at each other in disgust and shock. Not only were the little girls using every profanity imaginable, but their topic of conversation was very crass and sexual. They were mentioning things that (hopefully) they didn't know exactly what it meant. I was hoping that they were just repeating what they had hear from an obviously classy mother or sister.
We observed as the three girls jumped out of the pool, into the jacuzzi, over to text on their cell phones, back into the pool, back into the jacuzzi, back to texting, repeat...until one of the girls had a brilliant idea. The girls huddled behind the soda machine, out of sight from anyone in the pool (also the security camera). "Do they have handcuffs?" Hilary asked. I glanced over to the girls who had broken the huddle and one of them was indeed holding a pair of handcuffs.
They giggled as they hooked one of the girls to another and jumped into the water. "It's hard to swim handcuffed!" exclaimed on of the girls. This statement made all three burst into laughter as if it suggested something inappropriate.
"I wonder if they found those handcuffs in mom's drawer," I wondered.
"I wonder if they removed the fuzzy part to bring them into the pool," said Hilary.
"I wonder what it feels like to know that you are a future prostitute," I asked.
"I wonder what it feels like to know that you are a future statistic for teenage pregnancy," Hilary retorted.
We shook our heads in disgust as we dried off, put on our cover-ups and went back to my apartment fully aware that the tennis court was still being used.

Bikini fashioned to make one look like a skank...$45
A pair of shiny handcuffs undoubtedly found by snooping in a place a 13-year-old shouldn't be...$0
Experimenting with every word in the Sailor Handbook free of adult supervision...PRICELESS.