Saturday, December 27, 2008

NYE is ridiculous.

i had a wonderful Christmas. besides the triple-shot hot buttered rum, the chinese crested dog purse and the explosive rrhea in the airport.

there is truly nothing more depressing than the month of january. Christmas is over and there's still 5 feet of snow on the ground and the sneaking perils of the ice. at this point theres not much to look forward to....only VDAY. and we all know how single women feel about VDAY. then after that, March 17th with the awful green outfit and the guiness, then comes Easter...then Cinco de Mayo which isn't even American-- just an excuse to binge drink in a see where i'm headed with this? nothing tops Christmas, man.

especially New Year's Eve. this is the single most overrated event ever. women spend tens if not hundreds or even thousands of dollars in preparation for this "holiday." necessities include:

1. dress with some sort of sparkly feature, 2. black shoes, 3. two bottles of champagne....per female, 4. a mental list of top 5 prospects for the midnight kiss, 5. "omg i have the most perfect playlist for tonight!!!" and let's be honest, we all think ours is the best, 6. a stay-positive attitude in case one of your friends has an "i'm a loser no one will kiss me" breakdown, 7. silly string, 8. some bullshit comment on how "my New Year's resolution is to lose 25 pounds" while drunkenly stuffing pizza in their face thinking that since it's NYE or "the last night of freedom," why the hell wouldn't they stuff their face with pizza? then when they get up in the morning they're so badly hungover that it's off to T Bell for breakfast, mumbling something like "i'll start my resolution tomorrow....." 9. "the perfect facebook profile picture oh my god!" 10. a cell phone ready to send text messages to exes that go a little something like this: "wishhd we nvrt brokppe upy. wna meetr up l8rr fur druink? mayBe morey?>/"

let me break it down for you::

one year i found Sam in bed with a gay man.

one year we drank Everclear.

one year i woke up in a t-shirt that said "who farted?" (accidental or on purpose? you decide...)

one year i wore white underwear (!!!!) with a black dress, and there are pictures that prove so.

one year i forgot my ID and was house-bound all night.

one year we spoke in a British accent all night.

one year i got pulled over on my way home the next morning.

one year KitKat was hit on by her husband's best friend.

(did i mention that absolutely ALL of those things happened last year??)

the hype. the money. the booze. the lack of inhibition. the absence of sophisticated decision making. no matter where you are or who you're with...NYE is just another night. pour yourself a glass of champagne, and make a toast with your loved ones:

"here's to forgetting all the stupid things we did in 2008."

Saturday, December 20, 2008


the all-time record for snow accumulation in spokane was shattered on thursday. we got 30 inches of snow. 30 INCHES!!! we were snowed into our house until JJ (native californian) decided to be useful and shovel the driveway (while i watched jackass reruns). he had been out there for quite a while so i rolled off the couch and crawled over to the window to take a peek. what i saw was so hilarious its hard to breathe. JJ was standing there hunched over the snow in TENNIS SHOES (he doesn't....or i should say didn't at that time...own boots) and sweatpants that are two sizes too big so every time he leaned forward to shovel, his ass crack would hang out 3 feet! haaaaaaaaahahahahahdjfkhahahahaha it was so funny i had to go out and take a picture before he yelled at me. "i actually like shoveling snow, it's kind of fun and a good work out" he said. (this was only his First Time...we'll see how he feels about it next year)

that afternoon at about 1, our friends Rah and Nebular asked us if we wanted to exchange christmas gifts over an early dinner. of course, but we couldn't get out of our driveway. so JJ and i walked WE WALKED through the knee-high snow so they could pick us up ON THE SIDE OF THE FREEWAY. and it was in the middle of a blizzard and halfway to the freeway i remembered i forgot my ID and LORD KNOWS I NEEDED A STIFF DRINK AT THIS POINT so i sort of made a pouty face at JJ but he said "hell no i'm not going back" so i had to go back myself. UGLH! it was awful. anyway, after a 40 minute trek to get downtown (the city shut down for the day...the post office, the movie theaters, all the stores in the mall except Nordstrom...and JJ decided he wanted to buy boots at Nordstrom so i mistakenly let him go alone. he came back with men's uggs. yes, i said men's uggs. so we had to go back to Nordstrom and i had to explain that men's uggs are NOT ok, and we exchanged them for a different pair of boots), we ate lunch then realized we needed to leave before the weather got any worse.

but NO Nebular had to go the casino to do his sports pics or whatever. and since he was driving, JJ, Rah and i were dropped off at the wal-mart. THE WAL-MART! like what the hell am i supposed to do at the wal-mart? inevitably..........i somehow spent 46 dollars. after the casino JJ and Nebular went to a basketball game and dropped Rah and i off, again, on the FREEWAY so we walked back with 2 shopping bags each....wearing dresses and tights......and i slipped and fell bringing her down with me. what can you do at that point but laugh and pee your pants? we went inside and polished off 2 bottles of hard-earned merlot.

and yesterday i went to costco in my winter gear. and you know it's when you are the most prepared that Old Man Winter decides to claim you as his victim. sure enough i slipped and almost fell. i screamed "WHOA" and grabbed a strange man's arm and just stared thankfully into his eyes for a bit.

and today JJ, Rah and Nebular went to seattle and left me here. because i have to work at my wildly demanding receptionist job at the retirement community. and it's supposed to snow again tonight. so if the driveway needs shoveling i have to do it myself. and if the roads are bad on tuesday when i'm supposed to go home for Christmas, i shall be stuck here forever. i will die alone on Christmas. what a happy ending.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Holiday Parties

JJ's Annual Work Holiday Party was this last weekend. we walked into (JJ in his kerchief, and i in my cap) the Annual Work Holiday Party and shuffled over to hang our jackets up. then it was straight to the bar for a glass of red wine. 

the thing about Work Holiday Parties is they are either reaaaaaaaal awk and lame or reaaaaaaaaal crazy and fun (i.e. my dad's Work Holiday Party --last year i went as my dad's date and ended up in a trashy bar singing a duet to "Summer Lovin" from Grease with one of his employees) well JJ and i just kind of ended up standing in a corner at his Work Holiday Party. and you know when you get kind of nervous, you end up doing something stupid because your hands are sweaty and your heart rate is up. well i was standing right over a vent. and my high heel got stuck in on of the little holes and JJ had to stand in front of me while i yanked it out so no one would see. so i drank more wine. the thing about awk Work Holiday Parties is that they always start with weird unfinished conversations about the weather and either end the same way, OR turn into a decent Work Holiday Party with everybody chatting animatedly and laughing, patting each other on the back and acting like they've known each other for years. 

well thank goodness things turned up and by the end of the night, JJ's party turned into a decent Work Holiday Party and i was chatting with his coworkers, when his boss walked up to me and got real close and said right in my face, "IS THAT A REAL TATTOO?" i mumbled "yes" (its just a mini one on the inside of my wrist) and i guess he didn't believe me so he said, "WAIT, I'M GOING TO TEST IT OUT..." and he proceeded to.....I KID YOU NOT.....lick his index finger from base to tip and wipe it across my tattoo. it was so bizarre in that instant the party turned back into an awk Work Holiday Party. i didn't know what to say, so in a real quiet and shaky voice i just mumbled, ".....oh...yummy...." everyone just stared at me trying not to laugh. 

it was just an accident. i just didn't know what else to say. i mean, what would YOU say if a stranger licked their finger and rubbed it on your wrist at an awk Work Holiday Party?

Tuesday, December 16, 2008


there are many perks to working at a Retirement Community...including the endless compliments i receive such as good ol Larry-- every morning he walks up to my desk and says, "hey good lookin whatchya got cookin?" and Clara: "my what wonderful red stockings you're wearing're such a fashion plate." Col. Findlay: "you are the best dressed gal around this place." or even Mrs. Jolley, "hey! are you stupid?! you need a bobbi pin to pull your damn hair back" (she's not so jolly really). i love them.

but the thing i hate is lunch. work gives us one free meal each day. but it is truly appalling. so i bring my cheese sandwich with mustard and just a touch of mayonaise (just kidding. i use like half the jar on one sandwich. i get that from my papa) and a piece of fruit (that i usually don't get around to eating) and cookies. sometimes if i'm feelin particularly crazy, i'll pop on down to the Bell or JITB (taco bell, jack in the box). but i never eat lunch in the employee breakroom. it's worse than a high school cafeteria. but instead of like The Jock Table or The Band Nerd Table (sorry Russ)'s The Nurse Table and The Maintenence Table. i walk in there and i don't belong. obviously if there was a Popular Table that's where i would be, but there isn't one. so i eat lunch in the library precisely the exact time Daphne comes in with her walker to read The Wall Street Journal. Daphe has a loose bhole and farts constantly. and you can't help but laugh. but it's the silent, shoulder-shaking kind of laugh that turns your face red. so i eat lunch in the resident library and read the comics by myself while Daphne is farting the whole time.

anyway, i love the people who live here. they're fabulous.

but do you know what happens when they die? i have to type and print out their death notices. as a young girl, i remember coming home with permission slips or notes for my mom, and they were always printed out on different colored paper: lavander, sunshine yellow, light pink, and my personal favorite: Goldenrod. Goldenrod meant a class halloween party, or a field trip to the seattle science center. Goldrenrod was awesome.

not anymore my friends (i always said "my friends" before lame old ass mccain ever did by the way). I learned on my very first day at work that Goldenrod means Death. every death notice we print out is on Goldenrod. Goldenrod is ruined. It doesn't mean parties and fieldtrips anymore. so don't send me anything printed on Goldenrod. it only makes me miss Jerry. he was my favorite. one time he came down to my desk with his pants around his ankles. "dammit i can't figure out why my pants are so loose." he forgot to button and zip them. so i pulled his pants back up and fastened them for him. and he winked at me while i was zipping the fly. he was the best.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

the things we do when we wanna look cool

in middle school the cool thing to wear in my small town was.....i don't think you're ready for's boxers (had to be from the gap), a t-shirt (had to say "selah" on it somewhere), tube socks (had to be white), and Dr. Martens (had to be brown sandals). (SHUT UP Sam, LJ, KitKat, and KKiss--you know EXACTLY what i'm talking about) i wanted to wear said outfit but my evil mother wouldn't let me. she thought (quite rightfully so) that the outfit was ugly. she wouldn't buy me tube socks. but that's all that was missing. so i made the fatal mistake of exchanging the white tube socks with my shin-high sweat socks with a purple stripe around the ankle (also from the gap...surprise surprise....and i'm a tad bit embarrassed to admit that i still have them). and so there i was.... soooo awkwardly skinny that the men's boxers from the gap were loose and hanging and unflattering, my Dr. Marten sandals were red, my socks were just stupid, and i'm pretty sure that my selah t-shirt mentioned something about being on the C squad basketball team.

about 2 years ago my dad saw an ad in People Magazine of Matthew McConaughey's face with a stallion running in the background, and he was holding a bottle of America's Finest Cologne: Stetson. my dad ripped out the ad and brought it home. a couple days later, sitting at dinner, we all caught a whiff of some sort of cheap chemical. turns out my dad drove himself to WAL-MART to purchase his 2-bottle special pack of Stetson. when we asked him......WHY?! he simply answered, "well......Matthew McConaughey wears it...."

my senior year in college i was walking on campus and was too busy being a cool senior to notice a curb. i tripped and fell flat on my stomach. dropped everything. two very nice freshman boys helped me up and all i could say was "ohmygoshimsoembarrassed. now please help me pick up my shit before anyone else notices." all to save my face from being deemed as "uncool" by my peers.

just in May i bought a pair of white jeans...why you ask?

to look cool. DUH.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Chanel's Haircuts

My cat is a prima donna. She doesn't go outside, she drinks only bottled water, receives treats daily "just because" and has regular haircuts. Her fur is a massive coat thicker than a wooly mammoth's. When her fur gets especially long and unruly she gets these nasty little dingleberries around her b-hole and Horrible Armpit Knots. Now, it should be known that during her first year of life, I regularly took her to the cat groomer and they would shave what they call "The Potty Path," cropping the fur around her derriere, thus causing the dingleberries to vanish. They would also comb and cut out her Horrible Armpit Knots, and put a pink feathery bow on the top of her head. It was wonderful, but it's pricey. 

Two summers ago I lived in this giant old house that literally cost 134 thousand dollars to keep cool. So Chanel and I did our best to stick it out....until one day it was about 99 degrees out which meant our house was about 104. Chanel's tongue was hanging out of her mouth, she was panting, and she rabidly gnashed her teeth at me. I seriously had The Old Yeller Scene Where The Boy Has To Shoot His Dog flash through my mind. I knew something was very wrong and I thought it was rabies or mad cow disease or something so I FREAKED OUT and grabbed her sweating body and took her for a drive in the car with the AC blasting. When this didn't help, I rushed her to the Pet Emergency Clinic.................$500 later, I was told by the vet that my cat got heat stroke. HEAT STROKE. Which is total BS because cats are descendants of tigers and lions and they live in Africa where it's 300 times hotter. So I took her snobby ass to the expensive groomer and 70 dollars later:

That is what she came home looking like. She was shaking and embarrassed and mad at me. But I didn't feel bad because she is a descendant of big feral cats living in the wild—she is a feline, she should act like one. Plus I liked her mini Ugg boots.

When her fur finally grew back, I made it a point to keep her impeccably groomed on my own I mean, it's absurd that her haircuts were more expensive than mine. I started brushing her daily and making sure I lived in a place where I could afford the AC bill. Well, I have to admit that since we got a dog, I have been a little careless about Chanel’s daily brushing, and today when I picked her up, I felt a BIG HORRIBLE ARMPIT KNOT. Since I refuse to take her to the overpriced groomer, I decided to take care of it myself. 

So I got her brush and attempted to comb out the knot. She screamed at me. SCREAMED. And swished her tail impatiently and menacingly. I started to use the kitchen scissors in an attempt to cut the knot. She growled and hissed at me, followed by an unpleasant bite across my knuckles, drawing blood. I sort of roughly shoved her, huffed and shouted expletives at the top of my lungs and took off my slippers—I meant business—then grabbed her again, this time by the scruff of her neck. By this point I am all sweaty and annoyed and angry, and losing patience with this wretched creature. I stared down deep into her harrowing amber eyes, snatched the scissors and cut out the Horrible Armpit Knot. When I was finished, I released the beast to sprint under the couch and plan my demise.

I said I was sorry but she still kicked like half her litter out of her box and she hasn't even looked at me all day. She has kind of an awkward bald-ish spot under her right armpit....but hey.....the haircut was FREE.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Party Outfits

My good friend Crazylegs and i had this tradition in college where we would go all out dressing up for parties. 

Beer Pong Thursdays required matching team outfits; my favorite being a t-shirt with a gansta chain screen printed on it (Ludacris-style), shorts with jewels on them, gold hoop earrings and white patent leather boots (which are quite the gems...everyone should own a pair) (note: probably the most amazing part is that we actually already had these outlandish pieces on our own....without having to go out and buy them...except for said gansta tee)

Beer Pong Championships were white Wet Seal Tube Tops (yes, you know you have at least one in your closet dont deny it) with my face ironed on hers and her face ironed on mine. also, dirty (as in you haven't washed them in a week and they're all stretched to fit you just right) denim cutoff shorts (which have to be toooo short--like inappropriately short otherwise its not as good) and of course Vans. (Crazylegs now lives in NY. we were talking on the other phone the other day and i confessed: ".....ok i have to tell you....i am wearing You know, You On The Wet Seal Tube Top." she laughed and laughed then said....."me too.") isnt it great to keep your friends close to your heart?

soooooooooo our favorites were clearly Theme Parties. (i.e. CEO's & Office Hoes, Black & White, Jersey Party, Cocktail, Ghetto Fabulous (obvi that one was Crazylegs' birthday) Tacky Christmas Sweater (we hated) You Can Only Wear White Party...anyway, you get the gist of it)...which brings me to The Night We Overdid It Just A Tad. one particular night, the theme was Pirates and Pinup Girls. this was the kind of Theme Party we lived for. we bopped about town and ventured through our closets until we found The Perfect Pinup Girl Outfits. (see picture) i actually remember saying to Crazylegs "well.....i hope we look 'pinup' enough" ----after arriving at the party 30 minutes (and fashionably) late......we looked around the room and realized.....WE WERE THE ONLY ONES WHO DRESSED UP. (mind you it was february....everyone else is wearing like long johns, jeans, sweatshirt, puffy vest, parka, stocking hat, mittens, face mask, earmuffs...well not really, but we felt completely naked. but were 100% the life of the party...)----walking home that night i said, "well, that was fun. at least we were good for a laugh." ...then i slipped on the february ice.........and broke my tailbone. we considered the night a success.

and of course we cant forget the time we went to a USA Party. Crazylegs bought a real American flag and wore it as a minidress. She was yelled at all night at the bar by old people.

Afterall, what's a Party without "those crazy blonde chicks" ???

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Terrible Things happen at the movies

There is no person on earth who enjoys going to the movies more than my Dad. He’ll go to all the good ones in the theater, then when he’s seen them all twice, he’ll choose something stupid like that Will Smith superhero movie and drag one of us along. Every single time I come home, we go to the movies. And every single time we are in line for treats, he says, “It’s truly amazing to me that a person will order nachos, popcorn, a hotdog and Dots…then at the end they always say…‘aaaand I’ll have a Diet Coke.’” And during the previews, he always always ALWAYS says, “We gotta see that one” when it’s either a.) a chick flick b.) a movie with Jennifer Garner or c.) a fantasy film.

Terrible Things happen in movie theaters. People pick their noses and wipe them under the seats, they have sex (I have witnessed it as well as heard some real live testimonies) and wasn’t there a story about somebody putting a needle in a seat that infected a person with AIDS?? My dad put a spit wad in my popcorn once and I ate it. A rather large 12-year-old girl from the hood threatened me when I told her to be quiet. JJ and I were late to a movie just last year so I ran up the steps, but those damn lights confuse your eyes and you lose track of where you are, so I fell. And split my shin open. But the best Terrible Thing ever that happened in a movie theater was witnessed by me only…

I’ll never forget the time when we were in Disneyland (We went to a movie everyday, even while in southern California in June. It was just me and Dad…Mom would have never allowed it) and we went to Anchorman. Dad was wearing his D-Land staples: camo cargo shorts, his old school Mickey Mouse tee, yellow Polo fanny pack (this truly exists--not a joke), and my personal favorite: disgustingly ugly leather Velcro sandals. We were sitting there laughing/peeing then my Dad starting getting slight dry heaves and asked me if I had been farting. I told him no, but he kept bugging me about it. I was like “DAD I DIDN’T FART SHUT UP” The horrible smell that only he could recognize kept haunting him. Finally, with horror, he realized what it was. He had his feet up on the seat in front of him….the smell was emanating from his revolting leather Velcro sandals. He was so grossed out by his own scent. But he couldn’t seem to part with the leather Velcro sandals right away that night, so he put them on our hotel balcony and wore his bright red Nike tennis shoes for the rest of the trip.

Don’t ever have sex in a movie theater OR wear Velcro.

Friday, December 5, 2008

kiss of death

because i have been cursed with pink eyes and the plague, my fiance JJ is absolutely repulsed by me and refuses to kiss me. could it be the runny snot that has formed a permanent trail from my nostrils to my upper lip? (lovely) or maybe it's the outfit i have been wearing for the past 3 days: my pink bathrobe, purple slippers and GIANT (and i mean GIANT VS undies from the 7th grade that have roses on them) ?? who knows. but he wont kiss me. he sits far away from me and just sort of pats me on the head...even our dog cleo gets more attention. which pissed me off at first. then i just laughed. because i got to thinking about all the kisses i've ever had. . .

Aunt P. Kisses. i have to start with Aunt P. Kisses. she loves kisses. her fave was right after a ciggy, puckering her lips and putting them square on yours. and you would have the taste of smoke and wet n wild lipstick in your mouth before you even knew what had happened. 

my first real kiss was age 16 (i know i know but i was awkward during childhood... replete with huge purple-rimmed glasses, bangs that were always too short because i cut them myself and braces.) the first kiss was with my first "real" boyfriend S.M. he drove me home in his red car and pulled up to my front door. he leaned over and i remember thinking "this is it" and then we pseudo "made out" in his red car. i said "thanksfortheridehome" and ran inside.........dry heaved once and washed my mouth out. i was so disgusted and appalled. then the wave of panic. what's wrong with me? EVERYONE likes kissing right? so i called my friend LJ and said "OMG kissing is the most disgusting thing in the world. i cant do it ever again. what's wrong with me? how do i dump him?" she said, "don't dump him yet! you have to try it will grow on you."

grow on me it did. later that sophomore year, B.C. (more commonly remembered as "Sex God") became my boyfriend. i remember telling my friends, "i am so going to be able to tell my kids i dated the hottest guy in school." they totally agreed. but anyway, we went to the Winter Ball together and afterwards we went to a friend's house and made out for like 25 minutes. B.C. had facial hair and gave my cheeks a red rash. but it was worth it because he was B.C. we had a good run. then he broke up with me right before Valentine's Day....obviously i wore black to school.

D.B. came over to my house to watch a movie and placed his Hanes Socked Feet on the coffee table. i lost interest immediately, but stuck it out. when i walked him out to his car, i was glad it was over....but then he asked if he could kiss me. before i could say "no" he pulled me to him and planted it right on my tight awkward lips. we ignored each other for 3 days in biology class. 

next comes E.B. in his mother's house. in the basement. while watching Space Jam. i had just eaten a purple grape popsicle. he leaned in to kiss my cold purple grape popsicle lips and i burped purple grape popsicle into his mouth. he must have liked how it tasted because we dated for 3 years. 

in college all my kisses are just a crazy blur. except for one. my first kiss with JJ. we were just friends. for Halloween he dressed up as Gilligan and i was a sailor. (ON ACCIDENT!!!) after 3 vodka-Hood Juices (Hood Juice = Tampico, you know, that juice that's like 97 cents and comes in the gallon jug) i realized how "AMAAAZING" it was that we matched, that i decided we needed to get a picture. so i did. then i pushed him (he claims rather roughly for scrawny arms) against the wall and kissed him. my bff Sam tried to stop me with the cap gun that was her cop costume accessory, but to no avail. what can i say? JJ was (is) a good kisser.....

.....but he wont kiss me today. 

Thursday, December 4, 2008


for those of you who dont know what sharting is....check out for a few examples.

in response to my Paul Turner blog, my grandfather sent me an e-mail saying, "I love it Lacie – you’re a good writer, but this old fashioned guy just can’t get excited about the expression “almost shit my pants”, especially when it comes from my lovely, first grandchild." to which i responded simply "on the contrary my dear papa....i have, on more than once occasion, shit my pants."

i have stomach allergies. to wheat, gluten, eggs, sugar, milk, cheese, pineapple and lamb. that is my excuse for sharting on the upside of 5+ times per year. (the + will remain a confidential number) my bff Sam has some of the same allergies. she too, has had some sharting favorite being the time at the wax museum in Vegas when she was conveniently wearing yellow and brown camo shorts precisely the same color as her shart. tee hee!

then this morning one of my good friends Rah (Names have been changed to protect confessor's identity) sent me a text that said she too, had a case of trouser chili this morning.

perhaps the most interesting and peculiar thing about sharting is the fact that every person has done it at least once in their lives, yet we are all completely ashamed about it. and if you havent, well one meal at the mongolian grill and get back to me. (My First Time was in high school spanish class. i quickly excused myself and raced home going 65 mph in a 40...only to pass my dad on the way. he called me saying, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING SPEEDING LIKE THAT? AND WHY ARENT YOU IN SCHOOL?!?!" i squeeked (squeeked because you and i both know you can barely afford a whisper when you are a shartuation. (situation+shart) "dad. i sharted at school." my dad, being a requent sharter himself, cleared his throat and mumbled, "oh.......well.......good luck with that.")

sharting is something none of us are proud of. my dad's personal mantra is "Never Trust a Fart When You've Got the Hershey Squirts." but the bottom line? it happens. SHIT happens. so carry an extra pair of undies in your handbag....i promise you that it will prove to be more beneficial than you can possibly imagine. you do not want to be caught in a potentially hazardous (hazardous to your favorite jeans, to those around you, to your health, to your reputation, etc) shartuation.

the (fart. excuse me.) end.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Monster Eye(s)

I woke up. With my eyes glued shut. So I went to my uncle the eye doctor. And I have Pink EyeS (YES THAT IS PLURAL) PINK EYES. I look like a monster.

Last night I arrived home to help my Dad with the Christmas lights (last year went a little like this: Him falling off ladder. Him hanging by one hand on roof. Him screaming "CATCH ME DAMMIT!!!" Him plunging stomach first. Him screaming "WHY DIDN'T YOU CATCH ME?!?!" Me just standing there peeing me pants. ANYWAY-- after we finished decorating the tree this year and it was established that I was ugly with my Pink Eyes, my Mom really and truly said this to me: "Looking at your poor red eyes makes my own eyes water....(pause)....3 minutes...Now go get ready for the Christmas card photo."

Obviously I said NO. The Christmas card photo is one's only redeeming factor for all the bad pictures that might have been taken throughout the year. The Christmas card photo is the SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT photo of the year. It is sent to everyone in my Mother's address book from 1983. And don't even try to deny that everytime you open the Christmas card photo of a friend, you scrutinize and criticize until you have established that Suzie Smith has gained 12 pounds, is wearing a sweater with a toothpaste stain on it, and has chipped toenail polish....ultimately nodding your head once with a smug grin on your face as a signal of your final you think you look you aren't looking at Suzie Smith's photo at home, sitting in your sweats from high school, wearing a pepsi t-shirt without a bra, drinking eggnog from a mug and eating a fat ass piece of pie.

And because I refused to take the Christmas card photo with my Pink Eyes, there will be no Christmas card photo from my family this year. That is the price you pay to keep your outstanding Christmas card photo reputation my friends.

Also, I stole 3 of my Dad's ornaments for my own tree.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Being Brave

OK....So there’s this article in the Spokesman Review Today section everyday by this guy named Paul Turner, and I’m totally weirdly obsessed with him. It’s called “The Slice” and it’s so random. He always just talks about the funniest things. And I always want to write to him, but I get kind of embarrassed and star-struck or something. Well today, I took the plunge.

I’m not sure if it’s because I'm disgustingly ill (as in sick, as in I have pink eye and green boogers), but when I went into the Library at my place of employment to read the paper, Paul Turner's question of the day was, “Have you ever seen a kid getting all excited in the grocery store because the date on the milk says Dec. 25?” And I TOTALLY got excited because I TOTALLY get excited when the milk says July 29…so I wrote Paul Turner an e-mail that said,

“Not only children…I’m 22 and when that damn milk carton reads July 29, I can’t help but get all giggly inside…is that weird? ……….July 29 is my birthday by the way”

then he also asked real tree or fake? So I said,

“Fake tree! My cat barfed up pine needles one year. She can’t chew the fake ones as easily.” (that would be dummy Chanel)

And I got all thrilled when I sent it…like GOOD EFFING JOB LACIE!!! You completed one of your life goals!!


Less than 3 minutes later, HE REPLIED! OMG HE REPLIED!!!! He said,

“Thanks. Your birthday is on a Wednesday next year.”

I practically shit my pants. I can’t believe he replied! Even more so, I can’t believe I’m so excited by an e-mail reply from a regular old Spokane man. But he really is amazing!!!! I hope he prints what I wrote in the paper tomorrow. We will have to see…. until next tim.


Ok so i had to start a blog because basically the craziest things are always happening in my life...i feel that it is my duty to indulge you with these tidbits. i want to share my thoughts, my embarassing stories, the neurotic and spontaneous things i do, and all the other glorious nuggets of my life. dont hate.
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