TITLE: Either Way AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/21/2005 01:25:00 PM ----- BODY:
If you know her, you can vouch for this, but my mother is one of the funniest (and most eccentric) women alive. She is the drawlingest woman who ever did drawl, and when she tells a joke, unbeknownst to her, she tickles your ribs while she delivers the punchline. (She'll get a laugh no matter if the joke bombed, by golly!) So, I am going to start adding a feature called Mama Connie's Mamalies. (Yes, my friends call her Mama Connie - she's so cute they want her for their very own, much like a Pound Puppy.) Before I do though, here is a little excerpt from an actual conversation she had with Spencer. Mama: Oh you know, I was about as green as Spring clover. I mean, I didn't know what flippin' the bird meant. So, when Joe Ed (Julie's Daddy) and I got into this fight one time, I gave'm the finger, and he bout lit me up! Spencer: Yeah, I bet. Mama: He was like, "Connie! Don't you dare do that to anyone! Don't you know what that means?" I said, "Yes, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck! My daddy told me what that meant." Spencer: Right. Uh huh. Mama: But, really, I only found out later what it actually means. [Blush] At that time, oh no. I didn't think it meant anything baaaaad. Spencer: What did you think it meant? Mama: Well! I certainly didn't think it meant what it means! I just thought it meant "Up your butt with a wire (pronounced "wahr") brush! Spencer: Um...Connie. That is bad. That's actually worse than what it really means. Mama: Oh! I never thought about it that way! Oh my word! IT IS BAD EITHER WAY! [Shrugs] Oh well, if I give someone the finger, they're screwed in both directions. *Sign up on the Notify list if you want to know where my new site will be! Mama Connie may flip you off if you don't.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/22/2005 11:15:00 AM Well, now at least we know where you got your crass behavior from. ----- -------- TITLE: It is Nice to Share AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/20/2005 02:45:00 PM ----- BODY:
It was entirely too art house film to have that navel gazing drivel as the first post, so here! Let us once again, share the lurve. You need a new object of affection, si? Then take a gander over there at some of the new sites on the links. (Psst. I have met some of the writers and now, because of our association, bascially need an extra set of sunglasses...that is how cool I am. My future's so bright...I gotta wear 2 pairs of shades. That is what I am saying.) Still loyal to all y'all who knew me when, but like I probably did for you guys, here is a list of my new stalkees and those reasons for which I am madly crushing: Bathroom Reading: Smart. Suave. Fly. Kind of a mix between Anderson Cooper and Lenny Kravitz. The 9th Circle: Carved from cream cheese, this girl is. But like high quality, 1/2 the calorie cream cheese. So rich. So creamy. Devilish temptation with none of the guilt. Crazying Up the Bottle: Writes the way that your funniest friend would if he wasn't too busy shucking his corn, if you know what I mean. The 6th Floor: Oh, Dan. Sweet, sweet Dan. I wish I could carry you around in my pocket. I would feed you M&Ms and Skittles...and Codeine. ...And Not to Pull Your Halo Down: Arty. Concise. (What a pleasure that is sometimes!) Will look forward to reading more. Oh, yeah. Aaaaannd is very gitchy gitchy ya ya ya with A* from the 9th Circle. I KNOW! Anyone else? Probably. But it's time for my shroom break.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger MooCow DATE: 7/20/2005 04:41:00 PM Shucking his corn? Uh...um...

Totally agree with you on the rest of the people - and Allison. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/21/2005 11:47:00 AM This little love fest has made me all bubbly inside.

'Course that could be the burrito.

But...no...love. Totes. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 7/21/2005 11:52:00 AM Jules, you've always got good recommendations! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 7/21/2005 12:35:00 PM *sniff* I remember when I was on this list. "Memories...misty watercolored memories." Thanks for the new reads I'll check them out! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger A* DATE: 7/22/2005 12:02:00 AM Darlin' the man can't wait to meet you. I talked ya'll up so much, I think he's a wee bit jealous.

As for me, well I think you are just as warm and gooey as fresh choc. chip cookies and tangy like fresh-squeezed lemonade. ----- -------- TITLE: We We We We All The Way Home AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/20/2005 10:44:00 AM ----- BODY:
Woke up growling. Have you ever done that? Awakened from a beautiful night's slumber...pissed off? I did. Every side of the bed was wrong to wake up on this morning, and everyone and everything I have come in contact with so far has just made me exponentially pissier. This is because I went to bed mad. (By the way, those "Never go to bed angry" people...I just don't get. I am not going to concede just because it's sleepy time.) I had a spat with my guy last night, and sometimes after those, I get all, "Fuck it! Let's just break up and get it over with because I don't have time in my life for this." Ha. No time in my life for a relationship. I love it when people say that because it gives me someone else to make fun of. Like when singles say "You know, I am just focusing on me right now. My career. Finding myself. I don't have time for a girl/boyfriend." Double ha. Y'all, I have said that, and I look back on the chick I was when I did and I shake my head and think, "you poor, ignant child." Like it isn't always about "me." You know what I mean. Even when you begin a relationship, it's not like you say, "Goodbye, self. It was nice knowing you!" We don't pack up all our stuff, load a truck full of our insecurities, idiosyncrasies, flaws, attributes, habits, and hobbies and are just, "Ok, then. Now I am ready to devote my entire being and all of my energy to you, new person in my life. My brain is a clean slate. I am your clay. Mold me." Nope. We constantly think about if our needs are being met. Oh, sure, we bend to meet the needs of our "other," we compromise in order to keep them satisfied, sometimes we go way past the extra mile in order to show them just how nuts we are about them, but at some point you start to think, "am I going to be happy with this person for the long haul?" I want to think in terms of "we." I know I should. Are we going to be happy? Are we going to be able to work through all the grit? Are we going love each other, but realize one day that we don't like each other very much? That happens, you know. No relationship is sacred. When it comes down to it though, you really do question yourself. Can I, knowing all of my other's strengths and weaknesses, take the bad with good, and do my part in making this partnership solid and exultant? I don't know. I want to. I guess I have to get over being mad before I can think about the hearts and flowers of the future. *Nonsequitur reminder of the day: Don't want to miss all this whining when I move my site? Sign up on the Notify list over there.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/20/2005 01:14:00 PM What? who? huh? Why you gotta' scare me like that.

There is not room enough for both of us in the kiddie pool. Just not. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 7/20/2005 01:22:00 PM Must be a full moon. Everyone's mood is a little off today. ----- -------- TITLE: Keeps the Hot Side Hot and the Cool Side Cool AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/19/2005 12:30:00 AM ----- BODY:
HOT: Normally, I don't complain about the weather, but last night on the way to meet some NYC bloggers Al and I couldn't stop lamenting the ungodly humidity. (Yeah, GOD, I said it! This constant bogginess is EVIL! Can't the Holy Spirit conjure up a breeze? Is that too much to ask? JC walked on water, but cannot manage to suck it out of the air? Well, I hope he has some card tricks in his back pocket, because dammit if this weather isn't making me lose my religion.) Now, I am originally from Houston, you know, where the mosquito is the state bird, so I know humidity, m'kay? If I could don a slip and fan myself with a lavender scented hankie, on a wrap-around front porch, while drinking mint juleps, all Tennessee Williams heroine-esque, then I doubt I'd even utter, "Mah word, honey. Ah could just sweeum through this ayah. Ahm positively meltin!" Mainly because I'd be drunk. Who cares about the heat when you're gettin your drink on. Am I right? But, since that is not the case, and because I am nowhere near that genteel, I instead told Allison that I should call The Weather Channel and maybe The Discovery Network, as I am quite sure, that they will need to be informed of the meteorological data of my recent, historically unprecedented, case of SWAMP-ASS...you know, for Science. So, that's nice. Meeting new people after basically looking like you just won a wet t-shirt competition. COOL: Anywho. It was nice. (Nice? Can I think of a lamer word?) No one was weird and/or creepy, which come on, I think it's natural to be a little wary of meeting people whom you only know because they are insane enough to publish their entire life on the innernets. Everyone had all of their teeth and limbs, from what I could tell (both plusses), and the conversation lagged not once. Well, that's not surprising. These people have a lot to say, obviously. Since no one was fish-belly white, I assumed everyone occasionally ventured out of doors, instead of stereotypically holing up in the dark, frantically typing in front of a flickering monitor, stopping only to wipe the drool off the keyboard. And? Because after a few hours with them I am now an expert on their psyches, I will tell you this: They are all genuinely good people. Like us. I so feel like I am now sitting at the cool kids' table. You are also invited...if you do my homework. I have baby crushes on all of them, and now have added them to the character list of my "fantasy scrabble orgy." In other news- I HAVE AN INTERVIEW ON THURSDAY. Can you please lend me a suit that doesn't look like I should be walking down an airplane aisle handing out peanuts? ATTENTION LURKERS (and there are a lot of you) !!! I will be leaving this site soon to move into a more anonymous venue. Not that I have changed my character by writing something I wouldn't say to anyone face to face, nor my perception that no matter what, everyone you may not want to read your blog is, in fact, reading it right now, but now, when my name is Googled, this is the first site that pops up. SO - if you want to be notified of the new digs, please sign up on that notify list over there on the right. Thanks! I don't really know of any other way to do this because I want this site ELIMINATED. I'm going incognito. SEXXXXXXXY!
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/19/2005 01:02:00 PM It's sooo hot...

How hot is it?

It's sooo hot...that my eeears are sweating.

By the by, I am in serious like with our new friends, aren't you? Two words come to mind...one is bees and the other one rhymes. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Bathroom Reading DATE: 7/19/2005 01:29:00 PM Ooh! Ooh! I want the new site address!

And is that "bees, rhymes" thing a private joke, because frankly, I don't get it.

And I had a great time too. You two are a hoot. I can see why you're friends.

Did I just use the word "hoot" in a sentence?

Yes, I did. Shut up. I'm from Memphis, I can say stuff like that. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger lindsey DATE: 7/19/2005 01:32:00 PM I laugh a little every time one of these Seattleites complains about 'the heat.' It's only 80 degrees outside. Someone hand me a sweater, I miss Texas.

Good luck on your interview secret agent lady. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger julie DATE: 7/19/2005 01:53:00 PM Hi. Um, I forgot to add that since the new site is under construction, I will email all y'all when it's complete, which may be a while. Don't think I am ignoring you...you will forget about it and one day you will get an email from me inviting you to my new site for the web equivalent of fondue and body shots. Like finding money in your winter coat's pocket! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger julie DATE: 7/19/2005 02:01:00 PM Oh, and BR - Bees Knees. No underground coding going on over here. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger hofzinser DATE: 7/19/2005 02:42:00 PM I only heard great things about you... My first time here

-A*'s not so better half. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous boolie's mama DATE: 7/19/2005 04:58:00 PM Buena Suerte en tu entrevista; estoy muy agitada para tí.
Hace mucha calor aquí en Mo, también, como sabes. Te echo. (Y, Lindsey, te echo, también.) Y no bebas tanto.
Besos y abrazos, Mamacita ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous boolie's mama DATE: 7/19/2005 04:59:00 PM Buena Suerte en tu entrevista; estoy muy agitada para tí.
Hace mucha calor aquí en Mo, también, como sabes. Te echo. (Y, Lindsey, te echo, también.) Y no bebas tanto.
Besos y abrazos, Mamacita ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/19/2005 10:46:00 PM It's Rhyme Time! Thanks, Jules, for clearing that up. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 7/20/2005 12:24:00 AM Julie, hi! I don't trust those damn notify lists, so just know now that you'd best e-mail me when you move sites. You know where to find me.

-Lauren
www.newjanbrady.blogspot.com ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 7/20/2005 09:52:00 AM Ya know, I didn't think it was that hot (I'd say on par with DC) while we were in NYC but the damn subway? HOT. Why is it so hot under the ground? Shouldn't it be cooler? Why don't they have a/c in there? I couldn't imagine attempting to ride that thing to work...I mean, my hair was a frizzy mess every time I walked into, well, Hell.

Oh, and I signed up! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger julie DATE: 7/20/2005 09:56:00 AM Boozie-
Yes, the subway climate ups the weather ick factor about 7 notches. I told Al it was like standing in a convection oven, only the air being circulated isn't just hot, it's full of stank and dirt. When I first moved here, I would bring oxy astringent pads everywhere...and they would be BLACK and GRITTY when I used them. GRODY! ----- -------- TITLE: The People of New York #7 - Life is a Cabaret AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/18/2005 02:48:00 PM ----- BODY:
I forgot to tell y'all that last week while enjoying some delicious Chicken Saag with my cousin, Anne...I was dining next to... LIZA WITH A "Z" MINELLI! [Jazz Hands!] Our respective parties were the only two in the jurnt. HOW COOL AM I, I ASK YOU? I am so glad I decided against wearing my black sequined tunic and Bob Fosse jazz pants that morning. I would have just died if we met in the same ensemble. Not much transpired between us, if an impromptu rendition of "Money" is "not much" to you. [Jazz Hands!] Flourish, exeunt. ********************************** Do you remember: 1) The Great Space Coaster? 2) 3-2-1 Contact! and The Bloodhound Gang? 3) The Shirttales? No reason. I was just homesick for them. No g-news is good g-news. ******************** I read in the bathroom. I also enjoy Bathroom Reading. Good stuff, that. I may meet him later - I hope he washed his hands. ******************** The People of New York # 7: I May Have Just Met Long John Silver Guy WITH EYEPATCH and limp walking down Broadway: Nice [breast]s, Mami. Me: Nice eyepatch, gimpy. Question: Will I go straight to Hell without passing Go and collecting $200 or do I receive a "Get out of Hell Free" card because a pirate ogled my rack, thereby prompting said "lame Cyclops" remark? The People of New York #1-#6
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/19/2005 12:37:00 PM Liza!

I'm sorry Gary Gunews. Julie has either been kidnapped by an urban pirate or she is hiding with her laptop in the bathroom - which is kinda' weird in an adolescent sorta' way. But I do enjoy bathroom reading, too. Arrr, matey! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger julie DATE: 7/19/2005 01:14:00 PM Gary Gnu. Journalist extraordinaire! ----- -------- TITLE: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Bathroom AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/14/2005 03:11:00 PM ----- BODY:
I went to the gym on Monday after a long hiatus and was so insanely sore yesterday that I could barely walk. No, really. Learn from my mistakes. That abductor/adductor machine? Is Satan. Shun it. Me: [sheepishly scooting on Flintstone feet down office corridor to ladies' room because ability to lift said feet a/o legs in heel-ball-toe motion was NOT PHYSICALLY POSSIBLE] Male Office Worker: Are you okay? Me: Oh! You caught me! Um, yes. Thanks. M.O.W.: What happened? Me: Oh, you know. I went to the gym yesterday and tried to do too much, I guess. M.O.W.: Oh. I thought you had hemorrhoids. Me: ?!?!?!?!?! [thinking how bad it would have looked, considering M.O.W.'s comment, if I continued toward my destination -the bathroom right next to his cubicle - and instead detoured into the kitchen for a cup of tea.]
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/15/2005 05:29:00 PM Which I'm sure really helped that whole having-to-pee thing, huh? ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 7/18/2005 07:38:00 AM What about saying to that guy...."The only hemorroid around here is you so get off my a**!" ----- -------- TITLE: Fat or Fiction AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/13/2005 11:30:00 PM ----- BODY:
I truly don't believe a day has gone by since I was a very young girl that I have not thought in some way about the food I am eating and how it will affect my body. I hate the idea of pointing fingers, saying that my (I don't want to say "obsession." It sounds so neurotic.) preoccupation (still not quite the accurate term) with food is anyone's fault. Staring at supermodels in my mom's Redbook isn't why I started asking for DIET Cokes when I was four years old. To my knowledge, there were no supermodels when I was that age (especially in Redbook). Even Carol Alt said she was a size eight in her heyday (right around that time, I think), as opposed to the size twos and zeros of today. (ZEROS! Does a chick who wears size zero even exist? What if you're smaller than that? Are we going to start sizing with negative numbers?) Granted, that was before "vanity" sizing, but still. Also, the women I saw on TV were much more voluptuous than they are now. As I mentioned in an earlier post this week, I wanted to look like Daisy Duke, or (Lord, help me) Blair from The Facts of Life (Go ahead and make fun of me, but I assure you, I want to kick my own ass enough for the both of us.), not, mind you, Courteney Cox, circa Friends. So, no. I can't really blame the media for my awareness (??? I still can't find the right word.) of food and how certain kinds or too much of it would make me fat. Yes. I grew up in a house with two gorgeous women: both petite, both blonde, both knockouts. My older sister, Jill took after my mother, complete with peaches and cream skin and, apparently, a hollow leg. That girl eats like a fieldhand, and still, the only place she ever put on weight, seemed to be her chest. A year after she had her first son, we went shopping for her new wardrobe, and I remember sitting in the Club Monaco dressing room convincing her that the size two cargo pants she was trying on looked cute sitting on her hips like that. "They are cargo pants. They aren't supposed to be tight. You look awesome." My mother's breakfast of champions was a Coke and a Milky Way for most of my childhood, and up until maybe 3 years ago, she was a size six. She was deemed a "M.I.L.F." by my male high school friends (some of whom were her students) before the term even existed. At twelve or thirteen, I was wearing clothes from my mom's closet to school. (Well, some of them. The hem of her pants came up to about mid-calf on me, leaving me no room to tight-roll them, so psshaw. I was nothing if not a slave to the hot looks of 1989.) I, however, took after my dad. Now, really. My dad was, according to all the signatures in his 1966 yearbook, "a fox." I have always gotten compliments on my eyes (which one Miss Sue Ann Cotton from Daddy's Biology class would undoubtedly consider "dreamy"), and they are, without question, gifts from him. So are the the temperamental skin, the broad shoulders, the Fred Flintstone feet, and...the build. A build, in fact, that served very well as a quarterback and catcher for him, and one that lent to my standing in the back row of the choir every year since puberty. My parents did nothing but foster my self esteem. Growing up, I bet Mama told me every day how gorgeous I was, and come on! This was even through the era of Aqua-netted bangs, splatter painted puffy sweatshirts, and LEGGINGS! These were not exactly flattering looks on a pubescent female. Not only that, I had permed hair, mild acne, severely framed glasses, and braces, all at the same time. And before I hit sixteen, I swear, my face always looked a little...swollen. I called it baby fat. Jill, however, said that maybe I was a Mongoloid. Still, other than an occasional comment from my dad calling me a "big, healthy girl," a comment, by the way, he still considers a compliment, both of my parents raved over what a true beauty I was...even in the late eighties. And pictures? They don't lie. I may have struck a "Fame!" pose, but man oh man, "awkward stage" doesn't even begin to describe it. And then, there were the pageants. DUHN DUHN DUUUHHHHHHN! After hearing me sing, a friend of my sister's (and veteran of the small town circuit) convinced me to start entering Beauty Pageants. Good. Christ. I remember Jill fighting to zip me up in one of her friend's hand-me-down formals, and trying to analyze the look on her face. Sympathy and regret...and determination. God, she wanted that zipper to go up! I know she wanted me to realize I was just as pretty as the girl who had gotten me into this. But, nope. Not only being a dress size bigger, but my D cups, prevented that dress from fitting. So, with two weeks until the pageant, I ate nothing but CANNED CORN for dinner, a modest helping of rabbit food (with no dressing) for lunch, and of course, not a scrap for breakfast. Jill was so proud when, the night before the pageant, the zipper glided on its track as if it had been coated with cooking spray. And? I won that stupid contest. Y'all. Negative reinforcement? Is powerful. Canned corn made me fabulous? Well, sign me up! I will eat nothing but canned corn all the live long day and be beautiful! And make money from it! And win tiaras (that my mom will still showcase in my bedroom until I come home from college one summer and DEMAND she remove) ! After winning a few more pageants, I was asked to be in a swimsuit calendar. Standing next to girls who were actual models. And I DID IT! (Jesus, I cannot believe I did it.) I guess I thought, "Finally! People think I am hot! Woo Hoo! Now humankind will have proof for all eternity!" Please don't think, "How could her mother let her do that? And eat so badly? That's awful!" Um...I am not Tracy Gold, and she had no idea of the extremes I went to. I never EVER looked unhealthy. I looked, well...I looked...really good. I looked like she did when she was eighteen. Also, you have to grant that my mother is a typical Southern woman who came of age in the fifties. If you needed to drop a few pounds, you ate like a bird. There was no stigma. That's just what you did. The reason I am thinking about this, I guess, is that yesterday, my best friend forever and ever, Amen, wrote how she came across tropical vacation-y pictures of us from about 3 years ago, and how she laughed at all our drunken beach photos. I read her email and thought about how I, too had found those pictures a couple months ago, and how the only thing I could focus on was how I looked in a swimsuit standing next to her, a former cheerleader. She is so slight, in fact, that she was the one that got tossed in the air. And then I zoomed in on my fat roll. And...what? What is that? Backfat? What the fuck? I was surprised, after seeing those pictures, that some other beach-goer hadn't tried to rescue her from the Amazon who was surely planning on later barbecuing her on a spit and eating her with a side of poi and a nice Mai Tai. That really struck me because (luckily) I hadn't noticed then. I had a blast that trip. I had had a blast on every other trip I had gone on with her and even other girls her size or smaller. Every time I looked in the mirror I thought, "Not bad," (but really it was, "not baaaad" as in "reaaaallly good, you hottie, you"). I probably puckered my lips and winked at my reflection. I wasn't oblivious to the extra pudge, but you'd have never known it. All those pictures commemorating nights out with friends, Flaming Dr. Peppers, bachelorette parties, 21st birthdays, football games, there I am: HUGE, toothy smile, squinty eyes, arms around a couple girls, (maybe a couple of guys, depending on the occasion), and more than likely, an outfit that I tugged on for most of the night. I have no point really. I guess I just want to buy into that whole "love who you are, exactly how you are," and I think I do...a little. For the most part, I have the confidence of a Kennedy. I just don't think there will ever be a time when I don't give real thought to what I eat, and how, if I would just cut back, or ate something healthier, or got to the gym more often, I would be even... better.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 7/13/2005 12:51:00 PM It took me pretty much all of high school and half of college to realize that people liked me for me...it's a hard conclusion to make, but so good once it's made.

MWAAAAH! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous sammysue DATE: 7/13/2005 07:28:00 PM First paragraph is perfect, I was thinking of the same thing the other day...I too will zoom in on how I look in every group of pictures, don't know if that makes me vain or just pathetic. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 7/13/2005 08:01:00 PM We are our own worst critic. I thought the same thing about myself when I looked at those photos, I just didn't say anything. And, I thought how GOOD you looked. (Especially the flamingo pose ala 3's Company)

By the way, if any of these readers who don't know what you look like saw a picture of you, they'd think you were crazy.

-your BFF and E ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/13/2005 10:25:00 PM A day does not go by that I don't think about food either. Just food. Thank you.

And? Let's talk about line-backing, and I don't just mean choir. Sing it, Rev. - hands to Jesus - AMEN!

P.S. WHERE are the corresponding photos? (I need to bear witness to the calendar spread. Neeeeeed.)

P.P.S. You're hot.

P.P.P.S. Like, really hot. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger D DATE: 7/14/2005 12:12:00 AM Standing in the back row of the choir? In our hometown, guys would walk into walls and lockers staring at Julie when she passed in the hallway. I should know, those lockers hurt. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 7/14/2005 08:09:00 AM Yeah, I'm with Allison! Photo spread! Photo spread! What's wrong with corn daily? I lost 10 pounds eating oats and only oats for 2 weeks. Not because I wanted to lose weight....I just really was obsessed with oats. Uh oh, I may go to the store tomorrow and get the giant sized canister. Great! You sound beautiful, and your writing personality is awesome....so unless you're career is actually to BE a model, then I'd say it's a lot healthier not to be THAT thin. Personally I think it's gross to see a model in person and their bones and ribs and spine are showing. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger julie DATE: 7/14/2005 09:58:00 AM First of all - thank you. I really wasn't fishing, but the compliments are appreciated! (Ya'll seriously made me blush...which is a feat in and of itself!)

Like I said, I always have a great time and plenty of confidence, and I agree with everything said here: that people don't like others for how they look, we're our own worst critic, that I am hot(HEE!), etc. Just interesting that the thoughts regarding food consumption can take up so much of my brainspace (Like I have any to waste!), and that even being as smart and secure as I think I am...that somehow I still think that I could be better if I weighed less or looked fitter (more fit?). Crazy. Why do people think that about themselves? Clearly a lot of people do. ----- -------- TITLE: The People of New York #6 AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/11/2005 03:49:00 PM ----- BODY:
God must be watching. I posted a "People of New York" that contained a couple racial epithets...and poof! While editing, Blogger ate it. Now, I am pretty sure God and Blogger are linked somehow. Either that, or God is Iraqi. DO NOT SEND ME HATE MAIL BECAUSE I SAID THAT IT JUST SEEMED COINCIDENTAL SINCE THAT POST HAD IRAQI SLURS IN IT JUST DRINK YOUR BOURBON AND SING A VERSE OF GOD BLESS AMERICA ALREADY DAMMIT. So, now I will offer another. This happened about a week ago. Me: (Staring at Girl Sitting Next to Me's huge diamond ring) Girl Sitting Next To Me: Are you looking at my ring? Me: Um...yes. GSNTM: It's not real. Me: Really? Wow. It looks real. GSNTM: I mean, the diamond is real, but the engagement isn't. I'm sleeping with someone else. Me: Oh. Right. WHAT THE? The People of New York #1 The People of New York #2 The People of New York #3 The People of New York #4 The People of New York #5
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 7/12/2005 07:35:00 AM Sounds seedy and trashy, sounds like one of my old bosses. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 7/12/2005 01:48:00 PM Sweet hell. Don't you love when people just randomly tell you things like that? That's the best. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/13/2005 09:48:00 PM Fake engagement ring. Ha. A brilliant ruse to ward off the would-be Creepy VonScaryMens in this fair city. Her's sounds a little different, but...whatever.

Can I down a 40 of Ole E' and bust out some "Proud To Be an American" instead? Pleeease? ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger Maverick DATE: 7/18/2005 09:23:00 PM Very nice. I like your links to the carious chapters.

Oh, and BR SENT ME. Damn! Had to say that. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger Maverick DATE: 7/18/2005 09:23:00 PM Damn, in all the excitement, forgot to leave my sig. I hate when I do that.

Stacie - Spitting in a Wishing Well ----- -------- TITLE: Little Bo Beep to Lost Sheep AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/08/2005 03:05:00 PM ----- BODY:
The Dukes of Hazzard movie is coming out and I have to admit, I'm torn. Y'all. (That's right...I say Y'ALL...as does everyone else born in Baytown, Texas.) I loved the Dukes of Hazzard. Loaved. Lurved. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, I was to be Mrs. Bo Duke or Mrs. John Schneider or Mrs. Luke Duke or Mrs. Tom Wopat. Those were the four options. (Hadn't really grasped the whole "you can't live in the TV and be part of the show" concept yet.) My first choice, was to be Mrs. Bo Duke, but I figured that would likely never happen, as my older, and decidedly bossier sister informed me that since she was the blonde, she got Bo. Case closed. Dude, fine. Luke and I were meant to be. I was on that, as Rosco would say, "like a duck on a junebug." Throughout the years, the love in my heart for the Dukes may have not been as blatantly worn on my sleeve, but it certainly had not diminished. During the heated cat-naming debate of 2004, I offered Rosco P. Coltrane as a perfectly sound option. Boss Hogg was a close second choice. Spencer said, no though, since our cat is female and he didn't want to deal with an identity crisis if it could be avoided. Aside: Seems to me that it didn't matter what we named her since SOMEONE in the apartment only calls her his little baneeners, but whatever. Let it be known that at the tender age of 4, I demanded that my mother cut off all my jeans at butt-cheek level so that I, of course, could be the Daisy Duke of Lone Pine Road. In retrospect, it's a little weird that Mama had no issue with whoring up her preschooler like that, but when asked about it, she just replied, "but your little butt was so dern cute!" Note the "dern." If that doesn't explain the lack of refusal on the grounds of moral conservatism, I don't know what would. And, really. I did have my own Hazzard County right there in Highlands, Texas. My best friends were two boys who lived on my street, Brad Loggins (the blond, now a firefighter and EMT in Austin, Texas) and Payton Bridges (the brunett, and probably a big shot artist/designer in Texas somewhere), so to say that my disbelief was suspended would be an understatement. Catherine Bach had nothing on me. I even named my pink Huffy "Dixie." When playing alone, which as the little sister, you are wont to do...a lot, I would ceremoniously sing "Just the good ol' boys! Never meanin' no harm!" while retrieving my Dukes of Hazzard action figures (complete, except for the Rosco which my stepmother's Pickapoo, Scooter ate. If he'd been named "Cooter," I might have been more forgiving...because that would have made sense.) from my toybox so I could check in at The Boar's Nest, a.k.a, my room. After a melodramatic love triangle between Bo, Luke, and Daisy got sorted (nope - the fact that they called each other "cuz" and shared an "Uncle Jesse" did not register), I'd make the General Lee fly off the foot of my bed, suspending it in midair, while doing my best Waylon Jennings impersonation. "What a mess. I sure hope 'em Duke Boys can git outta thisun!" Then, I'd drop the car and run to the kitchen for a cookie break. But, now...I don't know. I love Willie Nelson, but Burt Reynolds as Boss Hogg? Jessica Simpson as Daisy? JOHNNY KNOXVILLE as LUKE? What the fuck? My beloved would have never intentionally covered himself in fecal matter of any sort, nor zap himself in the face with a stun gun, let alone do it purposely on a consistent basis. And? Um...that rebel flag? Makes me a little uncomfortable. Still...I bet I will watch it when it comes out on HBO. I imagine that I will talk over the entire thing, comment on how this was not the Hazzard I have known and loved, and more than likely, flip the television set the bird. Or, I'll just laugh at the superbly bad acting and ill conceived plotline. A GIH GIH GIH GIH GIH GIH GIH GIH GIH GIH!
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/09/2005 08:02:00 PM Guuuurl, you cu-ra-zee!

I learned the hard way that it is not that easy to jump into an open car window. Back in the day, we had this little thing called "door locks". Yow. ----- -------- TITLE: The State of Things AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/07/2005 09:44:00 AM ----- BODY:
I got into the office about an hour ago, but I feel like I have been up for a long time, probably because I have been. Spencer woke me up so that I could get ready in time for him to drive me downtown, as after watching the news this morning, he didn't want me traveling underground today. The news of the London attacks shouldn't be that big of a shock, I guess. Here in New York, the powers that be consistently tell us that we should be scared, that terrorist threats are eminent here and in every other metropolitan area, worldwide. Our Baskin Robbins "level of emergency" system usually lingers around Orange Sherbet, and when it occasionally rises to the Cherries Jubilee region, I guess we're supposed to walk around in gas masks or something. I don't mean to make light of this. Quite the contrary. At 7:15, I called Jen (who won't mind me telling you, she has a tendency to sleep right through her alarm - hence the call) so that she would have plenty of time to find another way to get to work. She has lots of friends in London, and still, ever the Manhattanite (she was downtown on that Tuesday morning and keeping her wits about her, soaked t-shirts in water so that she and her colleagues could breathe in the midst of all the ash and debris falling around them on her 9 mile walk home), seemed quite calm, very matter-of-factly processing the video images, trying to pinpoint the neighborhoods in which the explosions took place, and whether anyone she knows and loves would have been nearby. No one is really freaking out, though. People have filtered into the office, business is going as usual - the conversations around the coffee machine aren't flooded with breaking news. I am sure New Yorkers empathize and understand the gravity of the situation, but it seems like we are accepting of the fact that this is the way the world works today. Bombs will go off in Hyde Park. The train you are on, nonchalantly making your way to work, may explode. One minute you are innocently reading your book on a bus, the next you are watching as doctors pick impaled glass out of your body. War on terror, hmm. Hard to think we are winning that one.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 7/07/2005 12:30:00 PM When I heard the news this morning I remembered 9/11, I rememered standing in a crosswalk on 6th Ave looking downtown from midtown as the towers burned and just thinking of all the innocent people harmed and their families, and I feel the same way for those in London today. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/07/2005 07:25:00 PM Ever feel like you are just waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Yep. Me too.

But I'm not letting them change my ways, cuz that would be granting them a little victory. And they don't deserve anything but what is coming 'round. ----- -------- TITLE: CaliFUNia! AUTHOR: julie DATE: 7/06/2005 01:21:00 PM ----- BODY:
So, 5.5 hours and at least that many mini bottles of wine on the plane later...I am home! After spending some time in California with Spencer's family, I have: a) come to some very important conclusions about my life's ambition(s) and b) added to my warehouse of "good to know" general knowledge. 1) I need to be rich. 2) Gambling is fun! It is exponentially more of a hoot when you aren't gambling with your own money. 3) You can be the Doc Holiday of 3 card poker after 5 seconds of learning time. 4) It feels like a muffin basket full of butterfly kisses to have a frillion poker chips in front of you when you started with about 10. 5) It feels like being clotheslined at Red Rover 5 gillion times when you see them dwindle down to nothing. 6) This can happen in 4.35 minutes. 7) California makes you set your watch 3 hours back, and apparently, your scale 4 pounds forward. 8) Swimming any other way than in an infinity pool in Palm Springs with a Lemondrop Martini in your hand is just dumb. 9) Teaching a your boyfriend's peach of a niece the proper Skee Ball technique on her 7th birthday is as much fun as when your big sister taught you how to take a shot of tequila on your 21st. 10) That boy o' mine? He's a good egg, that one. Mas luego. Have to go work now.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 7/07/2005 12:51:00 AM I want a muffin basket full of butterfly kisses NOOOWW, Ded-dy!!!

And, the swimming-Lemondrop-infinity thing sounds pretty good. I'll have one of those, too.

Welcome back, Doc. ----- -------- TITLE: They're Gaining On Us AUTHOR: julie DATE: 6/22/2005 08:18:00 PM ----- BODY:
***Updated: Preston's first photo shoot.*** It's a boy! Well, we already knew that, thanks to the technological advanced hoo ha machinery that supplied us with in utero photos of what kind of looked like a baby with the word "penis" and an big, fat arrow pointing to the "sex." I love that we now have a way to embarrass our new family members before they're even born. Anyway, the real news is my nephew is here! Jill is obviously trying to throw the XY side of our highly estrogenated family a bone, because she is now 2 for 2. Healthy. Gorgeous. Blond. Surfer baby. So ladies, be careful what you wish for. You may pray to the good lord jeebus to be surrounded by cute boys, only for your prayers to be answered...but they're your nephews. Be specific.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 6/23/2005 12:12:00 PM Congrats, Auntie Jules! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 6/23/2005 02:16:00 PM Yes, yes - congratulations!

-Lauren (New Jan Brady) ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 6/24/2005 08:33:00 AM Congratulations! Don't spoil him now (well maybe just a little, or a lot)! Heck I'm sending candy now. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 6/24/2005 08:33:00 AM Congratulations! Don't spoil him now (well maybe just a little, or a lot)! Heck I'm sending candy now. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 6/27/2005 11:54:00 AM Congratulations, tia julia!

Get that kid some mini-board shorts and SPF 30 pronto!...(and in about 25 years, give him my number). ----- -------- TITLE: Some of My Summertime AUTHOR: julie DATE: 6/21/2005 10:37:00 AM ----- BODY:
I know. I KNOW. I had a few emails asking me (politely) to post something new. Take stock, all you (6) faithful readers...I am boring, and the drivel I post doesn't hold a candle to your fabulous life. Speaking of fabulous lives, I just got back from Houston after surprising my dad for Father's Day. Can you believe how sweet and thoughtful I am? Nevermind that every time I go there, Daddy wants to buy new clothes for me, cook me gourmet meals, keep my glass filled with a frosty, adult-variety beverage, and do all of this while I drift around the pool on a supremely comfortable float, princess that I am. No no. I went because I am a giver. (I totally understand if you just gagged a little.) So, news! I have a "meeting" today with a very cool person who works for a very cool magazine, and who may think I am very cool and want to hire me to kick the coolness factor of the magazine up a notch. At the very least, I will introduce myself to a few key players which never hurts, right? A position may open later for which they will need a dynamo and they will remember the girl in the hot pinstripe suit with the perfect tan. Done! (I love the way things work out in my head. I also have a fantasy in which I play guitar and sing all rock-starry in my hometown, while wearing the perfect tan suede pants and a tank top that shows off my magnificently sculpted arms. As soon as I learn to play guitar and tone my arms, that's pretty much done, too. So, there's that to look forward to.) And tomorrow I start a 6 week temp gig that sounds fun (AND which pays twice the amount my old, boring job paid me as a full time employee). Ha! Things are good, y'all. I wish I had more exciting things to talk about, but honestly, I am just enjoying the summer and trying to find a permanent gig. Time indoors in front of the computer is at a premium because I am on the dole, and therefore, have much time to go out to see and do. I will be seeing and doing in SoCal (that's Southern California for those not in the know) from the 29th to July 5th. (Dear Robbers, Please don't break into my apartment and steal my stuff. If you want to take any of the bachelor furniture, however, please proceed.) We're going to visit Spence's mom, step-dad, sister, sister's new husband, and niece, which I am really excited about. Spence's sister is a year younger than me and sounds like she's "our people." The fact that we will be in a huge wine producing region of the country has not influenced my excitement level in the slightest. Write me love letters, won't you? Or, ask me any questions you want to in the comments section. I have several areas of expertise, of which, after reviewing my post-Houston skin in the full length, tanning seems to be included. Now, stop staring at the screen and go get a lemonade (vodka shot, purely optional).
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 6/21/2005 10:47:00 AM Vodka shot is always mandatory, you know that. Sheesh.

So, Little Miss SherylCrow-on-the-dole-livin'-off-the-fat-of-Big-Daddy's-land finally got herself a jobby job. And posted.

Yep. There is a full moon tonight. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 6/21/2005 12:48:00 PM I must have mis-read, I thought your tan was pin-striped which would be hilarious and awesome! Imagine a tan that was striped. Have fun in "SoCal"! ----- -------- TITLE: The People of New York #5 AUTHOR: julie DATE: 6/06/2005 06:12:00 PM ----- BODY:
Girl on M15 Bus (spoken "discreetly" to friend): So, I am thinking the 400s. Friend: Yeah, that'll prolly make you a double D. Girl: That's what I'm thinkin. I could go bigger, but I think it might look trashy. Friend: Right. Girl: I mean "(Insert Strip Club in Queens name here)'s" is classy, and I think if I got 'em any bigger, it won't go, you know? Friend: Totally. The People of New York #1 The People of New York #2 The People of New York #3 The People of New York #4
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger D DATE: 6/07/2005 04:42:00 AM What's a double D? Is that like when I look in the mirror and see two D's? I'm so confused ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 6/07/2005 09:20:00 AM I'm still shocked by someone using the word "classy" and "Queens" in the same sentence. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 6/07/2005 09:39:00 PM The People of New York are brilliant. (That includes you.) (And me.) (And Tony Danza.) ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 6/08/2005 01:48:00 PM Especially Tony Danza!

I love the people of New York stories... ----- -------- TITLE: Repent and Be Baptized AUTHOR: julie DATE: 5/22/2005 07:45:00 PM ----- BODY:
Yesterday, over a few glasses (bottles) of wine, I was fully engaged in solving all of the world's problems with one of the best co-world-problem solvers in my posse, Al. We were, of course, sitting Indian style on her Craig's list sofa after an entire day of retail therapy, during which she managed to rifle through all the *coke-glam trash stocked high on every shelf down 3rd Avenue's boutiques, and purchase some very cute (and very expensive) jeans. A day well spent, in my opinion. *coke-glam: A phrase coined by Miss Thing, herself as we perused the bedazzled haltertops, Mrs. Roper caftans, and poly-blend Gaucho pants referring to the fashion of 1981 and the extra curricular nose activities popular at the time. We were being chin up and such while discussing the recent lack of jobness we share and the directions our respective lives have veered. It seems like I keep folding my damn map all whopperjawed, and end up taking turns I hadn't planned on. If only we had On-Star for the journey that leads us into adulthood. The exact instant we Pollyanna-ed our attitudes to the point where we were toasting our approaching 30th birthdays, the sky opened in an almost Biblical fashion and christened the evening that apparently, marked the beginning of...something. It strikes me now, that Peter (the apostle) urged "believers" to repent, which in that case, meant for one to change their way of thinking, before immersion. Eerily enough, I had. I know I haven't written about it, but life has been very "'lifey" as of late. No huge problems, relatively speaking. You all know I was itching to leave my job. To make a long story short, the powers that be found out about it, and I guess, fearing that it might be contagious, ahem, showed me the door. Kind of a shock to my system, as I wasn't holding the reigns as I like to do, but the result would have been the same the following weekend, anyway. I was set to resign on Friday, and was handed my pink slip the Thursday prior. My sister is ok. (Thank you for your comments and emails, by the way. What a wonderful thing it is to get the well-wishes of perfect strangers. I mean that. Sending love to a friend you haven't met is perfection.) She's still contracting and the ultrasound showed that the baby's head is um...right there. My nephew, Oliver uses Jill's now protruding belly button as a kind of intercom to his little brother, already bossing him around by commanding him to "stay put and keep cookin'." Since I want to be the favorite aunt, of course, I am not demanding anything of the baby, but because I am not worried about Jill thinking I am any bigger of a pest than she already does, I commanded that she keep off her feet or I will dye her hair green while she slept. So, yeah. Family. Friends. Been just taking them all in and realizing that nothing really else matters. The Virgo in me had been singing loudly, stressing about where I am going, what I have or haven't done with my life, and worrying about getting a new job. But, hey. I'll be working for the rest of my life, right? Right now the most important job is to work on me, I guess. Work on loving the people in my life, something fierce. Taking the message from the heavens seriously; change my way of thinking and begin anew. I guess that was like sacramental wine or something. I certainly feel baptized.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger lindsey DATE: 5/22/2005 10:25:00 PM Amen, sister. Great post. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 5/23/2005 11:11:00 AM ...And they said unto themselves "let us buy jeans!" And the shelves and the stacks parted and it was so. And they said unto them "let them have wine! And wisdom!" And the skies opened and thunder crashed and it was so. And they prayed on this day "let us be not lame!" And, um... ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 5/24/2005 09:43:00 AM Yeah, the older I get the more I realize the importance of time spent with those we care about. It doesn't matter what the activity, just being around people you love is the best! ----- -------- TITLE: Spoon Full of Sugar AUTHOR: julie DATE: 5/01/2005 10:57:00 AM ----- BODY:
So... 1) I'm out of the job I was lamenting about earlier. (I will give details at a later date.) 2) I have several exciting opportunities lined up, so that whole "everything happens for a reason" thing is really hitting home with me now. Excited about what's next. 3) In 2 hours, I will be on a plane to help take care of my nephew, Oliver since my sister is now on strict bedrest. She was taken to the hospital Thursday night because of (way) premature contractions with my soon to arrive nephew. So, hey. Good timing, huh? I am available to go help out! Julie Poppins. I'll be home when the wind changes!
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 5/02/2005 07:21:00 AM I hope your sister's ok. Good luck on the job search! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 5/02/2005 08:56:00 AM Good luck with your sister...and enjoy unemployment for as long as possible :) ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 5/04/2005 10:29:00 AM 1. It's about f'n time.
2. Fingers crossed.
3. Love to your sister and the little guy.

It's all in the timing. ----- -------- TITLE: The Deep End of the Jean Pool AUTHOR: julie DATE: 4/22/2005 12:49:00 AM ----- BODY:
This morning, I found a lovely little note from this guy, asking, nay, BEGGING ME to comment on this. (Go ahead and take a look.) Not really begging, but how cool would that be? "Jules, fashion goddess and femme fatale, I must have your input so I know what to think!" Hmm. Just like high school. HA! I hope you picked up on that heavy sarcasm. Well, since no one really cared about my 2 cents then, Travis, my friend, I would be more than happy to give them now. Especially because this topic is near and dear to my heart, and another one of my favorite body parts, my ass. First of all, take a gander at the following, from TR: Since I understand little about women (and unquestionably even less about NYC women, I am sure), would you do me the pleasure of blogging about this article from today's NY Times? There is no f'n way y'all really would buy $600 jeans, is there? Please tell me this is a joke. Some woman in the article said she pays $500 for shoes? I thought that Sex and the City extravagance was embellished for TV. Wow. Now, to be fair (to me), I added that as was written. Please, let it be known that I would never cower and say "f'n" when your good ol' fashioned four letter word is in order. Alright. Um...I don't know how to break this to you, T, but...um, way. F’N WAY! I am planning on buying some expensive jeans tomorrow, as a matter of fact. (Weird timing, huh?) No, really. I am. And I am a TEXAS woman living in New York. Which probably makes that even more shocking, I know. I promised myself that I would find the perfect denim casement for my super deluxe bootie when I finally liked what I saw in the mirror...again...naked...from ALL angles. What? You didn't know women did that? We also wax a lot of places that aren’t the sexy ones. All for beauty. God, this is so freeing! Well, anyhoo. Not that I am in Fergie's shape (from the Black Eyed Peas, not the Duchess of York, because in that case, maybe I could give her a run for her money...or her DUCHESSDOM! Finally, an excuse to wear a tiara!), but I have improved my physique as of late, and damn it if I don’t deserve a pair of jeans that showcase my ass the way it should be showcased. Let me let you in on something that is not a secret, whatsoever. You get what you pay for. Think of hamburgers. Or sushi. Or electronic gadgets that some of those near and dear to you, T, collect like 8 year old girls stockpiled Beanie Babies, circa 1996. You can get your Big Mac, your Cali rolls from KO, or an obscure Discman from the guy on the corner with the pirated DVDs. If you’re feeling kicky, you can step it up and go to a steakhouse with a salad bar, say Western Sizzlin’, splurge for sake at Haru, or geez, I dunno, get some doohicky for your MP3 player at RadioShack? But, if you are the coolest of the cool, and you decide you deserve a little treat, then, fuck it. Why not? Break out the plastic and go to town on some beef, fish, and gizmos. Same thing with clothes. Jeans, in particular. I know a girl, let’s call her Pindsey, who showed me the ways of the jean. Now, this girl is not conceited. She’s not stupid. Nor is she a Southampton whore…that we know of. However, she knows the value of good tailoring that lifts and separates, and taught me that there is no shame in paying for quality items that make you feel good about the way you look. Oh, P.S. Don’t mock the lifting and the separating. Trust me. You have seen a beautiful girl pass by with an ass that will not quit, but did not even think of throwing a chauvinistic, but appreciative glance her way because…she was wearing mom jeans. The pockets were too high, as was the waist, and the inseam may not have been long enough. The rinse? On the lighter side. Maybe with some darker edging. Had she been wearing more flattering (and, yes, they do cost more) jeans, she may have been lucky enough to have been added to your long list of conquests that never get a real 1st date, but that provide good locker room fodder. Just kidding. You don't play sports. Thing is, guys wear baggy jeans. They couldn't care less how their pants accentuate the positive in the caboose region, so I guess it's understandable that some balk at spending so much on a pair of them (or of shoes, for that matter). Some, who know they have a nice rear view, may wear them slightly more fitted, but all guys (lest they be Gay or European) these days seem to prefer clothes that resemble hefty bags or shower curtain as far as fit goes. Guys, you know those jeans you love to wear from the Gap? They don’t fit. They hit you above your waist and make your butt look non-existent or droopy. Guess what! Girls like a nice posterior to gaze upon as well. Do yourselves a favor. Unless you are a Wrangler model, go to Diesel and both you and your girlfriend will thank me and buy me multiple adult beverages. And even though some probably wouldn't admit it, I know men that definitely appreciate how much better women look in clothes that cost a prettier penny than those that come from Old Navy. (This theory holds unless you factor in that naked= free.) As is with everything, food, tailoring, and toys, if you want to (and can afford to) kick in a few (100) more dollars and it makes you happy, do it. Especially if you love and use the bajeezus out of your purchase. I have a pair of shoes I spent some of my hard earned table waiting money on that I wore to my PROM that are still in my closet and look just as fucking rad, and make me feel just as hot every time I put them on. So will my new jeans. I am sure. You can bet my bottom’s dollar.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 4/27/2005 08:54:00 AM I'm afraid to spend too much on my clothes, mostly because I spill a lot of stuff and fall a lot (maybe because I go to a lot of bars?), but I don't mind spending $200-300 on my hair. Is that strange? ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 4/27/2005 09:48:00 AM You buy your hair, Boozie? But it looks so real.... ;P ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger lindsey DATE: 4/27/2005 05:20:00 PM Pindsey must be really pretty. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger lindsey DATE: 4/27/2005 05:20:00 PM This comment has been removed by a blog administrator. ----- -------- TITLE: Branded! AUTHOR: julie DATE: 4/20/2005 11:13:00 AM ----- BODY:
It happened. Well…kind of. One of my greatest fears, realized…almost. After spin class, (Like how I throw that in there? So you think I am sporty a/o health conscious, when in truth, I am just vain?) Jen and I went to get our nails done. My pedicure was hanging in like a champ, and I just would have chosen “Well Red” again anyway (my polishes have to have a cheeky name that I feel is befitting of my personality…I know…I am a LooneyLooneyLooney). So? I decided, while Jen was getting all her tootsies pampered, I would get a massage. There are very few things I prefer over a massage. Think about it. In what other instance can one’s body receive so much pleasure while lying as limp as week-old Romaine? And whatever you were thinking just now? Stop. That’s just sad. Doesn’t exactly make you out to be the attractive hellcat you think you are, does it? I had succeeded in contorting my limbs to fit in the massage chair, when the girl who was getting ready to do the honors exclaimed, “Oh may gahhhh! Yew hah a tah TOOOO!” “Shit. Shit. Shit,” I thought. This is it. This is the moment when my blissful ignorance, or unconfirmed understanding of the significance of the (let me be totally un-P.C. here and say “Asian.” Were they Japanese? Chinese? Um…I was 18. All I knew is that they weren’t Calvin pissing on a Chevrolet logo.) characters inked on my flesh were going to appropriately, given their location, bite me in the back. Although, I have never had remorse about getting my tattoo, even when I thought I was being so original, and only later discovered a tat that could pass as my own, was peeking out from over every Gen-X chick’s low-slung Abercrombie chinos (just like mine), I somehow knew that one day, someone was going to set me straight. That someday, my dad would be vindicated as a random, native speaker would tell me that the design I was sure meant “Peace” and “Tranquility” would, in reality say “Insert Here.” I have casually inquired about it to people who maybe had a clue as to what my back says, but I have never really gotten a guaranteed answer. Honestly, I didn’t really want to. Now, you don’t know how hard this has been for me…for the same person who still has not overcome the embarrassment of sending out a homemade college graduation announcement, so that everyone would know just how original and clever I was...with a typo. People throw away graduation announcements! They forget them! How could I ever forget a huge typo following me everywhere I go? God! The stress! There I was, bent in such a way that I looked like a cartoon character when they run into a tree, full throttle, after downhill skiing…on their knees. (Get that picture?) All I could think was, “Is my back actually blushing as much as my face is?” “Do yew nuh whu dah MEEEEZ?” Oh God. Here it comes. I will have to live the rest of my days knowing “Pig Fucker” or something equally heinous, is brandished on my back. “Um…I think I know what it means.” “Ih meez LUCK! So happy! Luh! (Love?) Cahm.” “What?” “Cahm. Cahm. Yew nuh. Cahm. No stressy.” “Oh, calm. Oh! Oh, good. That’s what I thought. Good. Um…thank you.” Then, I relaxed. And it wasn’t just the massage.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 4/21/2005 08:26:00 AM How funny! I've heard horror stories of Chinese/Japanese symbol tattos meaning all kinds of things other than what the bearer thought it meant. Glad yours turned out to be a positive! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 5/04/2005 10:20:00 AM Shitshitshit, now I have to run and get a mani/pedi and find out what mine means. Watch, it means "butch" or "stalk me" or something classy like that. ----- -------- TITLE: HI RACK AUTHOR: julie DATE: 4/15/2005 03:15:00 PM ----- BODY:
Something is wrong with me. I have been incessantly shopping for 3 days. I bought some tres sensass pants at Urban Outfitters, and I just bought these (top left) in black. Nope. I am not a shoe snob. "39.99? That's practically free!" If they are cute and I can walk more than a few New York City avenues in them, their next address will be "to the left of recently purchased black Converse, Julie's closet". These look a little "too cha cha for words," so watch out, Gothamites! You may just see me merengue down Lexington. I just love their name, though. HI RACK. Hee! Prophetic of a smarmy stranger's inner dialogue? "Who's that hottie in the cha-cha shoes? (Cue cocked eyebrow and pursed lips) Hi, rack!" I support the troops in HI RACK. I know Ka-RAH-tay. Hiiiiiiiiiiii-Rack! Alright. I know. No more Skittles. Edited to add: According to the shoe box AND the back of the actual shoe, the name is HI RACK, not the less provocative "Hirack" like on the site. Because..."Hirack?" That makes no sense.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 4/18/2005 12:23:00 PM Don't forget to introduce yourself when they arrive. "Hi, my name is Julie...and I'm a shopaholic." ----- -------- TITLE: Giving the Finger AUTHOR: julie DATE: 4/13/2005 10:54:00 AM ----- BODY:
Although a Swingline stapler is a modern desktop miracle, I doubt one of its most marketable uses is "punctures middle finger with the ease of a hot knife through butter." And yet, this morning, for the second time in my relatively short life, I managed to impale the tip of said finger while fulfilling the administrative duties my job requires. As in "the horizontal metallic "top" is on one side of my finger, and the 2 vertical prongs are embedded in my skin, the tips emerging on the opposite side of the digit. "Anti Jam," huh? They're not kidding. Let it be known that a human finger does not present a jamming threat to the ergonomic abilities of the mighty Swingline. You and your phalanges have been warned.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 4/14/2005 07:59:00 AM Milton says, "I want my stapler" ----- -------- TITLE: Indeed, 'Twas Grahnd AUTHOR: julie DATE: 4/05/2005 03:20:00 PM ----- BODY:
Hey, I'm back! I'd like to buy the world a STOUT, and teach them harmony. Lots to tell...of which the least important NOT being that I have switched my drink from Johnny Walker on the rocks to JAMESON's. Smoothie smooth smooth! Also, much to comment on. Mitch and the Pope. One man uplifted the entire human race, and the other...was Polish. Did everyone get that? THE POPE DIED while I WAS IN VERY CATHOLICY IRELAND. It was PopeWatch 2005, all Pope, all the time. Nothing else was on TV, and when you have patronized many a pub and want to serenely pass out in the quiet of your hotel room, a craggly "shallow breathing" Catholic is the last thing you want to hear or see...so I kicked Spence out. I keed. I will let you in on a little Oirish secret: When your boyfriend says he is going out for some bangers and mash, don't accuse him of being a lecherous druggie. It's just sausage. Wait...
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 4/05/2005 09:00:00 PM Well distill me some malt and call me Happy McJulie'sBack...look who's home!

Sorry to hear about the Pope and stuff. I am glad to hear you drank your way through it. That's m'girl! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 4/06/2005 07:37:00 AM Bangers and mash! ha. The first time I saw that was at an Irish Pub on 40th/Madison. I don't even know the name of the place, but every day at lunch I'd say in an Irish accent "who wants to go get some Bangers and Mash at Sally O'Malley's?" Nobody ever wanted to. Bastards! LOL ----- -------- TITLE: Can You Do Haiku? AUTHOR: julie DATE: 3/24/2005 04:59:00 PM ----- BODY:
It has been sloooooow today. I have done paperwork, that if submitted now, would be three weeks early. POW! Being the helping hand that I am, I have also asked all my coworkers if they need help with anything. (What can I say? I'm a giver.) Since they don't, and because I have been thinking of the Wayne's World "But, that's not Wayne's basement" line and giggling all day, I am bestowing a couple of haikus for you(s). EDITED TO ADD: So, I CANNOT do haiku...read the syllabic rules WRONG. So, here are the corrected ones. Man, I suck. Thursday, your almost weekendness is delightful. Friday still wins, though. Chocolate crosses! Nothing says "Candy Time!" like a vanishing corpse. Happy Easter! As always, please spread the holiday joy by contributing in the comments section!
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger I'm Brent, ya dorks. DATE: 3/24/2005 06:32:00 PM Hop there, rabbit, hop.
Have not seen your tail for months.
Now it goes away. ----- -------- TITLE: The Poop Troupe AUTHOR: julie DATE: 3/23/2005 04:55:00 PM ----- BODY:
Um. I NEVER talk about poops (or even peeps for that matter), but I have to say that there have been some stories floating around this little realm of ours that have been really funny. Makes me think of my 96 year old Granny. Ew. Wait. Let me explain. Makes me think of my Granny because she once some wires got crossed, and after hearing about a quarrel an acquaintance of mine and I were having, she piped in, "With friends like those, who needs ENEMAS." The sage wisdom of our elders should always be remembered.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 3/24/2005 11:52:00 AM Ahhh, truer words have never been spoken! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 3/25/2005 11:55:00 AM Let us all take comfort in the knowledge and confirmation that...

...everybody poops. ----- -------- TITLE: Irish Eyes A Smilin' AUTHOR: julie DATE: 3/22/2005 03:20:00 PM ----- BODY:
Y'ALL! I am going to IRELAND! The land of IRE. Can you even? I'll be typing along all worky worky work work and then, some little fairy whisper (or possibly that of a leprechaun) reminds me that I AM GOING AWAY TO THE EMERALD ISLE WITH MY IRISH BOYFRIEND FOR A WEEK. Needless to say, that makes the typing much more jovial. Me: "Hidey Didey Didey Didey Hidey Didey Di! Ctrl 'S'." In other news, I am thiiis close to being on that Kitty Cop show on Animal Planet, which, let's face it, is one step to the left of being a Hanes tank wearing, toothless, wild eyed drunk, trying to "splain m'case to the gid lickin' occifer" on COPS. Whatcha gunna do? Whatcha gunna do when they come for you? Last night Spence was roasting peppers (cuz' he's all gourmet and shit) and the kitchen got a little smoky. Hence, the ever so slightly open window...through which my precious little angel muffin decided she wanted to crawl through in order to romantically watch the city go by on MY FIRE ESCAPE once we had turned our backs. Me: "Mmm. These peppers are good. (Noticing that I have food in front of me and there is no cat nose attached to an actual cat buried in it.) Um...where's Gracie?" Maternal instinct kicks in full throttle. I jump up and dash straight (which takes .039 seconds as this is a New York apartment) into the kitchen thinking, "Oh God, please don't let the window be open," and there she is, half of her at least, on the sill. Head and shoulders into the New York City night, plump cat ass in the kitchen, refusing to slither through to freedom. Gracie: "Meow, bitch." I open the window wide enough to grab her, kiss her all over her little cat head, and step back into the living room with a look of half shock/half pissed-offedness. I doubt Spence will open the bottom window anymore. If he does, I can just picture Little Orphan Gracie shimmying down the drainpipe to get away from her Miss Hannigan. Seriously, don't report me. Apparently, this happens quite a bit as every cat has to be fitted with a microchip when they get fixed. If she ever turned up missing, I would call Animal Control, and they would locate her like a CIA operative...probably at Daddy Warbucks' estate. Totally unrelated to anything: I just got new glasses. They're VERSACE which means I am...how you say? HAHT SHEET. You know that old saying, "Men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses?" Wrong. I think someone just heard it incorrectly, like they were playing "Operator" or something, because I am pretty sure the real phrase is "Men don't make passes at girls with flat asses." Proof? Brad dumped Jen. Jack, albeit a while ago, quit Lara. Ethel Muggs never did win over Jughead Jones! Gracie? Cats are obviously trying to get her to sneak out of the house...and baby got back. Need I say more? Me: "Hidey Didey Didey Didey Hidey Didey Di! Publish Post."
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 3/22/2005 10:09:00 PM Our little Julie is all growsed up. She's growsed up, she's growsed up, growsed up! And now she leaves the nest, adorned in couture, to take on another big, bad continent. I, for one, am like a proud madam watching my favorite lady of the night ride off into the sunrise. Be kind to them, Jules, remember what you did to Japan.

YOUR CAT IS GOING TO DIE. There. Now get over it, she's fine, crazy Cat Lady. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger julie DATE: 3/23/2005 11:43:00 AM Um...it was CHINA, That's ok...they all look the same, right, RACIST?

Don't tell me my cat's gunna die. I just see me sitting there beside her bed in the cat hosiptal, reading our of Southern Living, "Open your eyes, Gracie. Open! Open! Ope' your eyes!" ----- -------- TITLE: Brilliant! AUTHOR: julie DATE: 3/18/2005 05:18:00 PM ----- BODY:
Good things were a brewin' last night, and not just green beer. Spence got called back to Ireland. Guess who's going to be with him for a week? We leave on Easter, the day on which all will proclaim that my mood has risen like the Messiah. I will return with a new and improved attitude! Or at the very least, a spot on fake accent.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 3/20/2005 07:37:00 PM Brilliant!

To (again) quoth our favorite hottie-rocker..."a change will do you good."

Erin go brah(less) and top o'the mornin' to ya' lassie! Chip 'n the skipper 'y zippadeedoo dah blah plppt! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 3/21/2005 09:12:00 AM I really gotta go on a trip. And I'm not talking that 5-day trip to Buffalo I got planned in April. Have fun! ----- -------- TITLE: All I Can Think About AUTHOR: julie DATE: 3/17/2005 03:28:00 PM ----- BODY:
Work. Jobs. Responsibility. I am at sort of a crossroads. See, I came to New York (like everyone else) to be on stage. I love Musical Theater, am pretty good at it, have been encouraged by those in the know to stay with it, etc. But, y'all...I have no more energy to spend an entire day (or WEEK) at a call in order to sing for 2 minutes. When you are at an audition? You are not at a job. And when you are not working? Um...no one is paying you. And rent here ain't cheap. That means you work double the amount you would have needed to just to spend it on the glamorous things like hot water and Ramen noodles. So, meh. A year ago, I decided to get a real job. Some of those close to me have been really saddened that I stopped auditioning. (One, I am not saying who, may have cried.) And it's hard, I admit, to hide my light from the world. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Honestly, it has been hard switching to the other side. I mean, hey. I'm a Virgo. I loved school. And, duh. I was (am?) a performer which means I lap up applause like a Irishman around a spilled pint. I actually don't mind working...because usually I get credit for being really good at whatever I am doing. Kind of like how I was always eager to get papers or tests back. I never minded studying as long as it paid off with an "A." Aside: I know how much of a dork I am. Sometimes I want to kick my own ass. But...I haven't been applauded in a while. Not on stage certainly, and not even off. Not even a golf clap. Though I know how narcissistic this sounds, that has been difficult to swallow. If I absolutely loved my job, meaning if I was moving around and talking to people, possibly writing a lot, being creative in the slightest...I could handle the lack of praise. That's not how it is, though. I sit. I email. I fill out paperwork. Then, I slide down the Bronto's tail and that's all she wrote. So, I should just leave, right? Find a new job? Who cares about the market in NYC? I will surely find something! Even if that were assuredly true, the problem is this: I love the people in the (other United States city) office. The president and C.O.O. there are wonderful. Their attitudes and support are what every employee dreams about. Although I am so very vocal about making changes, all "Carpe Diem," and all that jazz to other friends who wanted to leave there jobs because they are unhappy, I realize that I am a HUGE hypocrite. I am scared about just quitting without anything to fall into. Actually, I am hesitant about changing at all, because, here's the thing. What the hell am I supposed to do now? God. Sometimes being so well rounded and brilliantly multi-faceted is such a chore! Melodramatic sigh. You may now excuse yourself from my self-absorbed pity party. I am through.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 3/17/2005 04:11:00 PM Jules...come back to the world of the abused, mistreated, inappropriately-cast, underpaid actor and you TOO can do Fame in Korea! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 3/17/2005 04:11:00 PM This comment has been removed by a blog administrator. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger julie DATE: 3/17/2005 04:45:00 PM Hmmm...Well I am HUGE IN CHINA! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger D DATE: 3/17/2005 10:01:00 PM As a 100% pureblooded Irishman, I am offended by your comment. Now pass me another Guinness and be quick about it ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger Audrey DATE: 3/18/2005 01:34:00 AM Don't worry about it so much. We are way to young to be concerned with what we are going to do 'for real'. Just do what you will someday wish you had. All that boring grown up stuff (like rent) will work itself out somehow...it always does. ----- -------- TITLE: The People of New York #4 AUTHOR: julie DATE: 3/16/2005 10:11:00 AM ----- BODY:
Entirely too confidently, I strolled out of my apartment this morning, 15 minutes earlier than usual, almost smugly thinking how early I would arrive at work and jump into this bright and shiny Wednesday. "BWAH HA HA AHA HAHAA" thundered the laughter of the Gods. The 4, 5, and 6 trains weren't running. No power. Sin electricidad. So, I followed a few (million) people to the busstops along 5th Avenue. 14 crowded buses ignoring our stop later, and much to the dismay of my fellow travelers sardined in the front of the bus, I jump on the 4 square inches of the bottom step of the M3, reciting silent prayers that the door would close without the one monterous hinge impaling my ribcage. And, Oh! Nothing makes New Yorkers flash their true colors more than mass transit chaos. My favorite quote of this morning from a little old man wearing an ensemble of 3 different plaids, a driving cap, and carrying an umbrella on a sunny day: "Sir, could you please remove your briefcase from my rectum? I know we're packed tightly in here, but no one at your office is gunna appreciate you throwing that on the conference table once it's seen my colon." See? Ahhhh, New Yorkers. Always looking out for their fellow man...and their fellow man's colleagues. *The People of New York 1, 2, and 3
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Julia DATE: 3/16/2005 12:02:00 PM Hey there JES! It's a fellow PMAer. Dessie gave me the link here. Ha ha ha on the old guy comment! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 3/16/2005 01:54:00 PM LOL...That old guy should do stand up. I love this series by the way! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 3/16/2005 03:46:00 PM Lest the lowly New Yorker dare to dream that she can wrangle this big bad city, she is constantly reminded of her massive insignificance and shoved back into her teeny little personal space.

Thank you, New York, for not letting us think toooo big. ----- -------- TITLE: The Big Screen AUTHOR: julie DATE: 3/10/2005 04:55:00 PM ----- BODY:
Hi. I live in 1994 as I do not have caller ID. Do not even lambaste me with how caller ID is your Lord and personal savior. I know. I have had it before and loved every snobby minute of it. (Because, you know...saying, "Meh, I don't feel like talking to that person right now" is a touch on the snotty side.) It has something (long and very boring) to do with the phone cabley things in the antiquated building we live in, and when York Avenue was ripped up a few months ago, we didn't (couldn't) have a land line for over 3 weeks. Since then, no more ID. So, what do I do? Like every other right minded American, I screen. Just for study's sake, I actually answered the phone one night. I had signed us up on the "do not call" list maybe FOUR times, but clearly that doesn't ward off about 10 calls from 6-10:30 p.m. telling me I should get a certain credit card. Tangent mentioning the fact that even if I needed a new credit card, I bet I really couldn't get one, which makes the calls even more infuriating: Me: "All your friends have houses. And you. You have been an 'owner.' That's so grown up. Why don't I own anything?" Lindsey: "It's so easy to buy a house, Julie. You don't even know. It's so much easier than people think. I guarantee you could buy a house." Me: "Hmmm. Really? You think? Because even when they say I'm 'pre-approved,' I still get refused for credit cards with a $2,000.00 limit." Lindsey: "Oh! (thinking: 'MY GOD! WHAT KIND OF CRACK WHORE DEBT HAS THIS PERSON GOTTEN HERSELF INTO?') Really? Um...oh." Honestly, that is like when people date on the internet and a guy is "OH MY GOD you are the love of my life and where have you been for so long and I am so lucky to have found my soulmate..." And some wide-eyed chick is thinking "Praise da lord, I done caught myself a man!" Then he says, "Send a picture to me of your sweet self, my love." "Ooohh, I know just the one I'll send...the one at my cousin Laverne's wedding when I look so good. That taffeta really did not add the 20 pounds my sister said it did." Then, of course the guy is wiggling in his seat, breaks out the Vaseline, clicks on the picture, and upon viewing the girth that is his honey pie is like, "Oh...um...I can see you're um...at a Christian wedding. I am a Satanist. Clearly this won't work." That is how I feel about these offers. Why call me promising a magic card that I'm "already approved for, we just need this paperwork on file," with which to buy sassy footwear and unnecessary lipsticks when after I answer the required questions, you're going to refuse my fat taffeta wearing ass? It's so insulting. When I really think about it, they are screening me way more than I screen them! Oh well, screen and let screen, I guess. Yes, the phone rings and rings, but I ignore it like I ignore my friends when they say they are moving and are all, "oh what a pain it is to move with so very little help, but [I] can't afford movers." Me: "Uh huh. Well, when you're all finished up, I'll bring over my good friend, Jose Cuervo and we'll christen your new digs!" Moving friend: "Oh, I er...thanks." My mom told me that since I signed us up on the "I said don't call me, asshole" list and the little telefucketers are still so persistent, I could sue. Although, considering I am too lazy to even pick up the phone to tell someone to politely fuck off, do you really think I have the energy to sue anyone? Mmmmm. Prolly not. And besides, how would I pay a lawyer? Could I just charge it on one of my non-existent, too good for me credit cards?
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 3/10/2005 08:38:00 PM I got rid of those freaks by telling them I planned on filing Bankruptcy. They stopped calling.

Hey one of my best friends lives off 81st just West of York! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger D DATE: 3/10/2005 09:01:00 PM Break out the vaseline? Girl, you are in the wrong business, you need to be a writer. Promise me an autographed copy of your first book. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 3/13/2005 10:42:00 AM Jules, I'm in the same boat as you, girl. Thanks to college. I mean, please don't tell me that I'm preapproved and then yank that carpet out from under me. It's not very nice. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 3/15/2005 03:49:00 PM Boozie said "boat". Boat. Ship. Cruise. Ahhh...can you tell I am not ready to come back from my vacation yet?

I bought new luggage before my vacation and asked for a $50 credit limit increase to pay for it. They said no. It was Mervyn's.

POW, how you like me now? (Btw, it wasn't really a vacation, I was evading debt collectors in the Caribbean). ----- -------- TITLE: No News Is...No News AUTHOR: julie DATE: 3/04/2005 05:10:00 PM ----- BODY:
I cannot even tell y'all how many people, friends who live far away and brothers-in-law and acquaintances that I haven't talked to in forever, have gotten in touch with me lately and asked me the mandatory, "so what's new?" Then, all they hear are crickets chirping. Nothing is new with me. NADA. But, I want to have news. I ache for it. I want to be able to say, "I got a fabulous new job that will fulfill me and make me rich at the same time!" "I am buying an apartment!" "I found Jesus! (He was hanging out in Riverside Park all along...who knew?)" Seriously, anything would do. But right now, my life is pretty routine. Go to work. Make the doughnuts. Go home. Watch TV. Fall asleep. Sometimes I mix it up by going to the gym after work which will then incur a shower following my arrival home. Cuz you know, I'm saucy like that. One night last week, I met a friend for drinks. But, that's not really news. I mean, it's not like people on the other end of the phone line want to pay their 10 cents a minute to hear me say, "Well, I went to such and such bar on Thursday and I had 3 glasses of wine and a scotch. So, what's new with you?" And can I admit something that (is not really an admission as most of the people who read this site know me in real life and know this anyway) I am a little embarrassed about? I want to tell people I am engaged. Even more than that? I want it to be true...not just something I tell boozie breathing bar patrons when they get a smidge to close for comfort to confide to me "you're really pretty, you know that, baby?" Don't start calling me with your congratulations. This isn't a "hidden newsflash in the blog entry" post. It's just a projection of my sometimes present old-fashionedness. But, you know what? I don't even want to have the news, really. I want to be able to feel secure and I guess I think that all of those things (sans the Jesus part, which hey, maybe even that, too) would make me have a sense of stability that I just don't have...haven't ever had. Not real problems, I guess, as far as real problems go. That just what my news is.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger lindsey DATE: 3/04/2005 06:11:00 PM I'll marry you!! I've been wanting to go back to Haiwaii anyway! Mwah! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger lindsey DATE: 3/04/2005 06:14:00 PM Hawaii. Haiwaii's probably fun, too though. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 3/05/2005 12:48:00 PM Security....have you tried Brinks? ;)

So are you waiting for the bf to ask you or will ask him? (or would that be against the tradition) ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 3/07/2005 10:17:00 AM You know, they (whoever the hell "they" is) say, "When it rains it pours." So I guess the opposite is true, as well. It's just a drought. But that down pour will come soon enough! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 3/15/2005 03:40:00 PM News schmooz...hey, I'm back from my cruise! Have some more booze and go buy some shoes 'cuz sooner or later you'll lose these blues and will want to go back to when life was a snooze.

If things don't work out with Lindsey, I'd kneel down on grits for ya' honey. ----- -------- TITLE: Talk Amongst Yourselves AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/17/2005 05:23:00 PM ----- BODY:
Reason # 857 you wish you were me: I am going to Seattle for 3 and a half days of wine drinking, dancing (both honkey tonk and clubby club varietals), boutiquey shopping, fresh air inhaling, and most importantly, Lindsey visiting. So, talk amongst yourselves. What are the other reasons you wish you were me? Don't say, "because then, I'd be HOT," because honey, you are en fuego. Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 2/18/2005 07:39:00 AM Be sure not to drive to the Gold Club member car return area at the airport! Have a safe and fun trip! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 2/18/2005 08:52:00 AM I wanna drink and dance and shop. Have a fab time in Seattle. It's supposed to snow here this weekend. Blaaaah. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 2/18/2005 12:14:00 PM Have a ball or 8 and make sure you get some sleep. Bring me sumthin' purty. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger D DATE: 2/18/2005 05:49:00 PM Did she say have an 8-ball? Do they serve those in Seattle? I thought they just drank coffee ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger I'm Not Ms. January DATE: 2/23/2005 02:39:00 PM yay! have fun Jes! :)

If you happen to have a stopover through LAX, give me a call. :) ----- -------- TITLE: When Dorks Love Each Other, for a thousand, Alex. AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/16/2005 03:52:00 PM ----- BODY:
Last night Spence and I put his Valentine's Day present into use. Several times. (Um Hmmmm. It only takes a couple of minutes before he is ready to do it again.) I couldn't wait for 5:30 because before we left for work yesterday morning, we re-committed to come straight home and "GET. IT. ON!" And so we did. Once he put it in, I have to admit, we got a little too competitive to see who could hit the buzzer first. Ahem. I won. Twice. (But, to be fair, I let him win once, too.) PS2 Jeopardy is the best game ever.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Jamie Reed DATE: 2/16/2005 11:27:00 PM You little slut puppy...

Just kidding, you two are too cute! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 2/17/2005 07:26:00 AM No whammies, no whammies STOP! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 2/17/2005 09:05:00 AM I'm such a tool. I love Jeopardy. Are you watching "Ultimate Champions" week? The blind guy, Eddie, is gonna be on. He was my favorite.

God, I'm such a nerd. ----- -------- TITLE: Happy Valentine's Day! *As always, join in the love by adding your own caption. AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/14/2005 11:40:00 AM ----- BODY:
Finally. A guy with incredible fashion sense, rosy cheeks, and a MUSICIAN, no less, who tells it like it is when asked, "What is the deal maker for you? I mean, what could really make you fall in love?"
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 2/14/2005 07:59:00 PM Yes, I agree. Valentine's Day BLOWS. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 2/15/2005 07:21:00 AM "Maybe if I avert my eyes and blow this flute, nobody will notice I'm a boy WEARING A MINI-SKIRT!" ----- -------- TITLE: AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/14/2005 11:36:00 AM ----- BODY:
Uppity Brits. Oh, excuuuuse me "guvnah," nice monacle and all, but we wear pants in the good ole' U S of A!
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 2/14/2005 01:17:00 PM I don't have a caption, but this Valentine really doesn't help the rumor that British guys have small weiners.

I'm just sayin'... ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 2/14/2005 07:41:00 PM "Alright, ladies! Get out your singles and get ready for our main attraction tonight at the ManBarn...Teddy, the travelling inspector fireman baby! Can I get a WHOO WHOO!?" ----- -------- TITLE: AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/14/2005 11:32:00 AM ----- BODY:

...unt von ohr two bahxes ohv da chocolate.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 2/14/2005 07:57:00 PM Patches: "Come ON, Ula, all I vant is luff."

Ula: "Mmm, alright. Come to da vindmill in half hour, ja?" ----- -------- TITLE: AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/14/2005 11:30:00 AM ----- BODY:

"Viva la Valentines!" "Um, dude...your 'grape' leaves are slipping."
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger Jen DATE: 2/14/2005 12:26:00 PM Yeah - Viva is right...those I-talians sure do know how to celebrate...is that 2 men?? ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 2/14/2005 07:42:00 PM Jules and allison circa 1977. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 2/16/2005 11:40:00 AM "Raise your goblet, raise your grapes....to love handles! to fat kids! To...to...Naked Fat Kids With Love Handles!"

"YAY!" ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 2/16/2005 11:41:00 AM "Raise your goblet, raise your grapes....to love handles! to fat kids! To...to...Naked Fat Kids With Love Handles!"

"YAY!" ----- -------- TITLE: AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/14/2005 11:27:00 AM ----- BODY:

Well, I'd rather that organ be "worn away" than another one, if you know what I mean.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 2/14/2005 07:45:00 PM Someone get this guy a kleenex. That's just not attractive. Snotty VonBrokenHearted.

And shouldn't he be wearing some goggles or something? Safety first, people. ----- -------- TITLE: AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/14/2005 11:25:00 AM ----- BODY:

Get a load of those HEARTS, man!
----- -------- TITLE: Foreplay AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/11/2005 10:24:00 AM ----- BODY:
Y'all remember these? There will be new additions in the next few days, but thought you guys needed a little pre-Valentine's day warming up. Enjoy...if you can get past the primitive HTML display. Good lord, that was like looking at my 9 year old self's signature, after I had just learned cursive. *Feb. 14th as of 10:44 a.m.: I have some great valentines, BUT Blogger/Hello/Picasa doesn't want me to upload them for some reason. Clearly they are bitter, lonely programs that want to impede all the love. Sorry. Stay tuned, though!
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Boozie DATE: 2/11/2005 12:19:00 PM I love, love, love the third one. God, I can't wait to call someone 'pork chop' this weekend when I'm all drunk and semi-belligerant.

Happy V-D! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 2/13/2005 04:11:00 PM "If you'd PIG me for your valentine"... used to read "If you'd PORK me, valentine" but parents started complaining that it wasn't kosher. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 2/14/2005 10:44:00 AM The pig one is a hoot! What if it said... "Pig me and I'll bring home the bacon...strip" Ah, the romance... ----- -------- TITLE: Not Even the "B" Squad AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/03/2005 05:28:00 PM ----- BODY:
A few years ago, I found myself renting a car at the DFW airport. Jen had some sort of "business" meeting in Fort Worth, being that that is where all the hookers meet every year to discuss street walking techniques and the new flavors of latex. So, naturally, since she was being put up in a swanko hotel (despite the rumors, I guess some pimps are generous), I invited myself along. And, hey, it doesn't hurt to be updated on the breaking technologies and rules of thumb (Ew.) that a lady of the night ought to know, as knowledge is power, friends. Also, Lindsey was still living in Austin, so it seemed appropriate to drive down ole 35 to visit her and show my Yankee friend all my old stompin' grounds as well. "Jen, I used to stomp all the way across campus to 'Do Your Best 101!' And, look! That's where I stomped all through my Junior year for like $8 an hour! And, oh! I got kicked out of that bar because of all my stompin'!" Fun was had. Piano players were harassed. The Cotton Eye was Joed. I think some tails were sucked. Mmm! Crawfish Boil! (Pronounced: "bole.") What did you think I meant, sinner? Eventually, we had to get back to New York, as Jen was jonesing pretty hard for some vein candy, as she is apparently wont to do after some Two-Steppin'. We headed back up ole 35 to Dallas, veered accordingly when we car the picture of the planes on the street signs, and drove into the labyrinth of rental car returns. One sign said "Gold Club Members" and the other said "Everyone who is not a Gold Club Member" or something. I knew I was not a Gold Club member, so I turned into the alley where all the other brightly colored Ford Fiestas turned. With lightening speed, a clipboard brandishing uniformed Gold Club Member worshiper ran over to the window and signaled for me to roll it down by rotating his wrist like he was whisking an egg, even though we had automatic windows, so he should have just crooked his pointer finger, but I got the gist as I luckily majored in area of study that strongly focuses on "non-verbal communication." Him: "Are you a Gold Club Member?" Me: "Um, no, but I think I turned the righ..." Him: "Oh no. This will never do. This area is only for Gold Club Members. Please zig and zag where all the non-gold arrows direct you so you don't taint the Gold Club Member parking spaces with your non-member domestic reject driving selves." Me: "Oh. Okay." Zig. Zag. Zeg. We all unbuckled our seat belts and were gathering our things when another clipboard brandisher taps on the driver's side window. Her: "Yes, can I see your Gold Club Member card please?" Me: "Oh, I'm not a..." Her: (Horrified) "You are not a Gold Club Member?!?! Then, no! This isn't where you need to be! You need to be blahblahblahgosomeplaceelsewithyourloserynon-memberselves." Keep in mind that there was a plane to be caught, and guess what. No matter how nice your rack is...they don't call the plane back once it departs the gate. So I am all, "huge dramatic sigh/eyeroll combo," and Jen is all, "I don't know if I would have even let you travel with me if I'd have known you weren't a Gold Club Member, " and Lindsey is all, "Jen, you smoke crack out of a old Mountain Dew bottle. I think Julie's Gold Club member status is a moot point," and I am all, "Nice usage of 'moot.'" Zog. Zug. And sometimes zYg. Me: "Whew! Final..." Idiot Gold Club Member Corral Administrator: "And you are a Gold Club Member, yes?" Me: Tears. Hysterical "M'Lynn-I-can-run-all-the-way-to-Texas-and-back-but-my-daughter-can't-she-never-could" freak out. "NO! OK? NO. I am NOT a GOLD FUCKING CLUB MEMBER. I NEVER WAS A CHEERLEADER EITHER. NOT EVEN THE "B" SQUAD! OK? I SUCK! I JUST NEED TO DROP THIS PIECE OF SHIT OFF SO I CAN CATCH MY PLANE!" I.G.C.M.C.A.: Shock. Horror. Silently hands me "departure" slip and out of the clown car we go! Moral of the story: Cheerleaders and Gold Club Members are "The Man." Fight 'em. Now for your commenting pleasure, I present: Even Amputee Gold Club Member Cheerleaders are thiiiiiis much cooler than Julie!
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger lindsey DATE: 2/03/2005 05:48:00 PM I just wanted to hit someone....make 'em feel as bad as I did

Ha ha ha ha... ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 2/03/2005 09:40:00 PM Julie...you are too twisted for color tv. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 2/04/2005 08:43:00 AM I love 'moral of the story' posts! I hate the word MOOT - bad memories! The first time I heard it I was like do you mean MUTE? I thought the person had a speech impediment And everyone laughed. And I still didn't know what they meant. So because I'm a dumbass, I hate MOOT!

Me giggle at your post and picture, though. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger Boozie DATE: 2/04/2005 09:39:00 AM Ugh. Someone asked me the other day if I was a cheerleader in high school. Are you kidding? I'm way to cynical to be a cheerleader, thankyouverymuch. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger D DATE: 2/04/2005 07:04:00 PM Ummm... I was a cheerleader. Varsity; A-Squad, baby. And now I coach cheerleaders. So on behalf of cheerleaders everywhere, please stay on your side of the white line. I am also a pimp, and I don't remember putting your name on the guest list at my hotel. You're on thin ice, Julie. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 2/06/2005 03:12:00 PM Whack a Weezer!

-New Jan Brady ----- -------- TITLE: Love Is All You Need AUTHOR: julie DATE: 2/02/2005 03:54:00 PM ----- BODY:
Hate is the word. It's the word that you heard. It's got a groove. It's got a feelin.' (Are those even the words to Grease?) Anyway. Hate. My. Job. Right. Now. Big project is fucking upside down, and when I say "fucking upside down" in this context, I don't mean in the good way. So, I was spitting on my computer when I thought, "Easy does it, tiger. You are not a hateful bitch. You are a luva,' not a fighter. (Just like Michael Jackson circa "The Girl Is Mine" not circa "Little Boys Dig Spiked Kool-Aid and My Hidden Love Lair.") Now, what could you do to spread the LUFF?" I was thinking about writing about who I love in real life, but the truth is, I don't even like most people. Oh calm down. I am a lovING person, but I have this many friends, (see my one hand held up in the air?) and really, I let them down enough. If I spread myself any thinner, I wouldn't even qualify for friend status. I'd be the person you call last, if all your other friends can't go out, and even then, it would be because I said I'd pay. I will tell you who I love love. Not in the biblical sense...yet. (Just kidding...kind of.) I will let you know who I love reading when I hate my job. And you should read them, too (although let's face it, you probably are already) because I am likely smarter than you and I know what funny is. NO! Because I am spreading the lurve like Philadelphia Cream Cheese. In no particular order, I am pleasured by the following: Amalah. Y'all. She is funny. And bitchy. And she's seems more alcoholic than me, and as we all know, the quantity of booze consumed is directly proportional to the coolocity factor. And speaking of, I have just started imbibing Boozie. All the flavor and none of the waking up in the morning with a person you don't know. She's good people. Zoot. Her family is the familiest and I love them. Also, she is splendiferous at web design. If I wasn't afraid to approach the cool kids' table, I would ask her to design a site for me so I could get rid of this lame-o template. But, all's well. She's fun to read even without her doing whatever I want when I want it. Pork Tornado at Mental Drippings. I snorfed while reading him. Diet Coke spewed out of my nose during unprepared for laughter. I think that's what snorf means. If not, I don't know if I have ever snorfed before. Maybe I did and maybe that's why that guy never called back. SirTalkALot is funny (and a little tortured, I think...he writes POETRY!) He was a "*drive by commenter" on my site (the few, the proud, the people who comment) and so I started moseying on over there. I mean, read this: "Bulimia is a lot of work and money for someone that doesn't even like to exercise. I mean you have to eat all this food (chew, chew, chew) then find a place to puke. Then clean up the mess. Why not just chew the food and not swallow? Spit the chewed food in a cup and feed it to underprivileged babies." Clearly, he belongs in my posse. So, other than who is over there on my link list, that's who I check out, mainly. (Even though SOME people don't even update, so SOME people should be exiled from the link list. You know who you are.) And I thought you should know since we have an "open" relationship and you are free to read whomever you please, just not in MY HOUSE and not on OUR ANNIVERSARY! *Allison's coined term
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger Boozie DATE: 2/02/2005 06:59:00 PM Hey! Thanks! The only thing I love right now is that effing Dandelion powder. Jesus. I have enough addictions...I mean, with the drinking and the smoking and the cussing and all. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 2/03/2005 10:09:00 AM Thanks Jules! I'm definitely tortured, mainly by my job these days, and until those depressing poems turn into money making songs on the radio, I'll use laughter as the best medicine. Thanks for YOUR site as a bit of the elixir that is comedy. BLOG ON! ----- -------- TITLE: *The People of New York #3...or Number Two... AUTHOR: julie DATE: 1/31/2005 08:58:00 PM ----- BODY:
Where: Uptown 6 train When: 6:04 p.m. What: Well shaven man (?) dressed (only) in rainbow clown wig, Phantom of the Opera mask, black vinyl zippered vest, adult diaper, fiercely used combat boots, and cardboard sign necklace simply stating "Will defecate on cue for money." Why: Um. . . *The People of New York #2 *The People of New York #1
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger Boozie DATE: 2/01/2005 11:43:00 AM The strangest thing I've ever seen on the metro here in DC was a guy wearing one of those braided belts from 1980. Also, it was too big and the end of the belt was tucked into his pants right above his crack. He was Swedish, though, so maybe he didn't know the current American trends on belt-wear. ----- -------- TITLE: *Tangled in the InterNET AUTHOR: julie DATE: 1/25/2005 03:13:00 PM ----- BODY:
Ah, the internet. Blessing and curse, n'cest pas? I have been thinking about this a lot lately, as some people have removed content from their personal sites due to work "violations." Some have even been fired for having a blog. Some have been reprimanded for spending too much time surfing. Let's just assume that ALL have been spied on, just for safety's sake. There are a lot of issues that pertain to the pros and cons of the internet in today's society, (good Lord, that sounded affected!) and if I were still in college, you wouldn't have to twist my arm to write an extensive paper detailing all of them. However, today I am focusing on internet use at work. Aren't you thrilled? I feel like I have to go on record, because so many friends have had corporate fingers wagged at them and have written about it. So, if this bores you to tears, move right along. You won't hurt my feelings. Let me just preface this by saying, yes, different jobs and situations call for different interpretations on what is and is not kosher for internet use. Sure, blogging may be deemed inappropriate if the workplace is called out by name and particular colleagues are mentioned. I think we all know that porn is unacceptable, (Ahem. At work. I am certainly not casting judgment on what anyone does at home.) and if an people are lackluster in their work because they are spending too much time on the internet, then, let's be realistic. If you can't defend that you are a great employee AND you are Ms/Mister Cyberspace, well, dem's da berries. That said, here is my beef with Spyware, Corporate "talking to's," and overall workplace distrust. 1) If a person performs well in their job, what difference does it make if they spend time on the internet? I know that old minimum wager adage, "If you got time to lean, you got time to clean!" But, come on. No one who is surfing, writing, reading, shopping, etc. is at a minimum wage job...maybe they are making a few bucks more than that. (Maybe.) It is likely they are stuck in a cubicle, trudging along in corporate America, being paid well below what they are worth, desperately searching for some kind of creative stimulation or outlet to negate the flickering screen that they stare at while crunching numbers or "communicating" via email. And let's be realistic. Who is going to figuratively grab a mop every time they get a second to spare? There are just so many tasks one can self-start. Most systems in corporate America need a little updating, but it's likely that those systems were implemented for a reason and we all know the "we fear change" attitude many companies impart. Would you offer to revamp an office's entire filing system in addition to your everyday tasks, knowing that it would likely not be reflected in your review? OR would you be all, "Whew! My brain is overloaded what with the phone calls and the email and the stacks of paperwork on my desk! I think I'll take a brake to surf the net?" 2) The most efficient workers are likely to have the most free time. Hey. You learn the system. At least you do if you didn't get to work via the short bus. In every job, (and I have worked for several different companies...temping sure does teach you some things!) you adapt to "the flow." You get in. Check and send corresponding worky emails. Then, there is a huge lag while you wait to get responses. You organize the day like everybody else. You know how long it will take you to tackle the paperwork. Usually, the work is so predictable you know the time needed to accurately complete each individual form within a millisecond. And the thing is, if the big wigs increase the workload, they had better increase the salary, otherwise people would high tail it to another job. (I know I am not speaking just for myself here, am I?) So, the smart people fly through their work and have time to spare. They are the same people who were the first ones finished with their Geometry tests and household chores, and since they have the same title or are in the same "class" (let's keep with the metaphor, shall we?) unless they get rewarded with MORE MONEY, MORE than an "A," or MORE than and extra hour of TV, they shouldn't be penalized with having to do MORE work than their corporate counterparts. 3) People should feel comfortable where they work. You know, obviously, I don't keep a lot of secrets. My site has my real name on it. I have always assumed that every employer, every ex-boyfriend, and every person that I have screwed over reads my site. That is in no way true, (otherwise, man, the "screwed over" faction alone would raise my hit count to like a krajillion!) but it keeps me respectful of potential hurt feelings and all the other consequences of anyone not remaining anonymous. Also, I assume everyone likes me or doesn't and if it's the latter, then they turn the channel, so to speak. However, when people think that every little thing they happen to look at or participate in on the web is being scrutinized, and that the fact that they play Solitaire during some slow times may overshadow the sum total of excellent personal qualities that make them an asset to a company and it could get them fired...does that encourage loyalty to one's job? I don't think so, but hey, I am not paying anyone. And I am confident that I make far more contributions to my workplace than credited for. I am not complaining because I haven't been here long enough, but I guess I have the same outlook on jobs as I do on relationships; if someone doesn't think I "am working out" or thinks they can find someone better than me to do what I do, and doesn't appreciate the entirety of my awesomeness...then, ok. I'll be on my way then, and I'll wish you well. 4) Everything is a trade-off. All employees know this. The actual work you do may not light your fire, but that's why they call it "work." You sit by a window. Your coworkers aren't weirdos. Dental is covered. You feel loyal to one of your superiors who isn't afraid to kid around. You like the company overall. Whatever the case may be. Why then, don't employers seem to know about this trade-off thing? Why is everything so black and white? Many companies have very legitimate reasons to terminate employment. If an employee is spending what is considered too much time on the internet AND they are kind of luke warm, caused other problems, lost big accounts, botched paperwork, isn't at all concerned on how to improve their performance, and has been individually warned, well then, granted, letting them go is probably best. However, if an employee is charismatic, has performed outside the realm of their responsibilities, been proficient in their tasks, etc., then maybe employers should look past their internet use, and possibly reward them with a promotion! This would up the work and responsibility ante as well as the cheddar, so in turn, the employee would be even MORE LOYAL to the company! See? Hearts and flowers all around! That's about it. If it doesn't compromise the quality of the work being done, I don't know how someone who needs to be creative (and therefore writes or reads internet fodder) can be fired. It seems like having a little personality would be valued. And, I don't know how installing scare tactics to make people aware that they are all-work-all-the-timers surrounded by carpeted walls stimulates efficiency. What I was taught in my fancy pants college (and therefore, it is surely correct) was: good work environment = more competent worker = higher efficiency = more money for company = boss man's new house in the Hamptons. I don't know. Just seems like some people are willing to shoot themselves in the foot. But, consider the source! I need to finish the mopping! *Hoo Wee! That there is a creative title, huh? The hits just keep on comin!
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 1/26/2005 09:55:00 AM EXACTLY! I think companies these days only made the internet rule to have a "ding" on our records if they ever need to cut personnel. They'll take the slackers first, then go up the line. It's SO much cheaper to fire someone for internet usage (a violation of company code) than to pay them severance. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger Jen DATE: 1/26/2005 10:17:00 AM I would have to agree with SirTalksAlot on this one...trust is a huge part of any relationship - if your husband, boyfriend or employer can't trust that you are always giving a hundred percent - then why are you there??? At the same time...everyone needs a break -and if writing a couple of thoughts deserves a punishment...well...I don't think I need to elaborate. Basic - you should never be afraid in any relationship. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 1/26/2005 11:32:00 AM Fight the power, SISTAH! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 1/29/2005 03:08:00 AM Corporations are primarily monitoring web surfing habits to cover their asses from a legal perspective. If employees are surfing web sites that are offensive to other employees because of adult content, racism, sexism, etc., then there's a huge potential for a lawsuit. Spotting excessive web surfing is usually a secondary task. Search for "anonymous proxy" on Google to cover your web surfing tracks. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger Boozie DATE: 1/31/2005 01:44:00 PM Yo. Just stopping in to say 'ello. Um, yeah, my ex-boyfriend realized that I was completely done with him by reading my blog, which I didn't know he even knew about. Ha ha. I'm such a bitch. ----- -------- TITLE: Say Goodnight, Gracie AUTHOR: julie DATE: 1/21/2005 11:23:00 AM ----- BODY:
Sink or Swim Took Little Miss Bitey to get de-femmed today, and will pick her up tonight, whence shall begin the weekend of insane pampering (as I am a complete mush and feel sahwy fuh ma pwitty pwitty baybee...Lord, help us.) It was also the freezingest morning of the Earth's ever lovin' history, so even though she was wrapped in her pink pashmina, and her carrier was lined with a fleece blanket, Gracie was shivering like the cute and furry version of Little Match Girl. Since she was too sick and too young for any shots when I got her, she'll also finally get her Rabies vaccination, which is good. Itta' done kilt me to go out to the pen with a rifle to "deal with" my coon-bit Tabby. That ole' Hydrophobie' can be a bitch! I wonder how drugged up she'll be when I go get her. Like, should I get the lava lamp warmed up and stock up on Doritos or will she be coming off a different kind of junk which would mean I would need: *"one room which [she] will not leave. Soothing music. Tomato soup, ten tins of. Mushroom soup, eight tins of, for consumption cold. Ice cream, vanilla, one large tub of. Magnesia, milk of, one bottle. Paracetamol, mouthwash, vitamins. Mineral water, Lucozade, pornography. One mattress. One bucket for urine, one for feces and one for vomitus. One television and one bottle of Valium." Hmm. Either way, I'll be ready. *-Mark "Rent-Boy" Renton in Trainspotting
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 1/21/2005 04:52:00 PM *And when she's done with all that, bring it over to my house. Thanks. ----- -------- TITLE: You Missed Me! You Missed Me! Now You Gotta Kiss Me! AUTHOR: julie DATE: 1/17/2005 01:08:00 PM ----- BODY:
Back from China. A smidge jet lagged, but other than that, just fine. Lots to tell you, (I was all the way over in CHINA! Can you even?) but it will have to wait, as I have other, more important things to do. Not really, but my brain is fried like it was on drugs, and really, you don't need to read anything MORE incoherent than what you're used to around here. Keeses farh ju.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 1/17/2005 02:48:00 PM you were gone??? ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 1/17/2005 03:11:00 PM ...I jest. Welcome back, love. What'd you bring me? ----- -------- TITLE: Happy New Year! AUTHOR: julie DATE: 1/03/2005 10:09:00 AM ----- BODY:
May your 2005 be free of mutant phalange type growths on your shoulders and Bjork-ish fashion sense. Really. What is going on here? I am still hung over from New Year's Eve and apparently, my brain has joined my liver in la revolucion, so I got nothin'. Since Christmas week is over and I am no longer getting doted on by my family, I'll just tell you what I have been telling them for the past 9 days. "I'm too tiiiiiiiiiiired. Do [any little task that should be my responsibility] for me." The Comments are all yours, people.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 1/03/2005 10:17:00 AM "Uh...cah thumone helpth me pleath? Eh he...my thung is stucth thoo the glath." ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger I'm Not Ms. January DATE: 1/03/2005 10:19:00 PM *bat eyelashes* you should see where ELSE I can reach *bat bat* ----- -------- TITLE: Holiday Greeting #5 AUTHOR: julie DATE: 12/21/2004 01:43:00 PM ----- BODY:
And, lo! The Archangel broke it down one time. "All the saviors in the house, say 'Yeeeeeah!'" "Yeeeeeah!" So sayeth the Lord. *Add your own blasphemy in the comments section!*
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 12/22/2004 01:21:00 PM Dude...check my deodorant. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger I'm Not Ms. January DATE: 1/02/2005 10:23:00 PM The child hath taken a crap, and it does not stink. Let's praise him! ----- -------- TITLE: Homecoming! AUTHOR: julie DATE: 12/17/2004 12:47:00 PM ----- BODY:
Spence gets in from Ireland tonight, and my close friends are excited for me... Allison: are you super cute today? julie: why should today be any different? Allison : ha Allison : true true true julie: i am wearing: julie: brown kickass boots julie: dark denim above the knee skirt, with brown leather kickpleat accents julie: chocolate crew neck shirt julie: with tan cord jacket Allison: nice julie: and, of course... julie: non sticky lip gloss and julie: a little well placed perfume Allison: ew dirty Allison: do not speak of these things to one who is celibate, you trashy whore julie: i meant behind my ears, slut Allison: ahhh Observations: 1) Allison is apparently more prudish, and possibly stinkier, than one would think. HA! Just kidding. Everyone knows what she smells like. 2) Considering the detail I go into regarding what I am wearing, I should work for $4.99 a minute. 3) 8 hours and 12 minutes to go!
----- -------- TITLE: Holiday Greeting #4 AUTHOR: julie DATE: 12/16/2004 03:03:00 PM ----- BODY:
"Lump of coal, my ass!" little Phinnaeus began, and such were his thoughts of revenge on Santa, that the flames morphed into the very horns of Beelzebub. "When I say Nintendo DS, I mean it, elf."
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 12/16/2004 03:27:00 PM It was suddenly not-so-Silent Night when Susie cut one so big her pajama top busted.

-Lauren
www.newjanbrady.blogspot.com ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 12/16/2004 04:16:00 PM A Firestarter Christmas. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 12/17/2004 09:27:00 AM Little Carnie Wilson sits by the fire
Eating more figgy pudding is her desire
Visions of ho-ho's and snowballs divine
A box of bon bons go with one word... "MINE!"
Her parents worry and they keep a hopin'
But every time her elbow bends her mouth flies open!
This picture captures the scene. Yes, quite classy.
DAMN! How much more disproportionate could her ass be? ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger julie DATE: 12/17/2004 11:57:00 AM Wow.
You guys are sick and weird.
I think I am in lurve. Sloppy kisses all around.

Lauren-
Thank you for adding the much needed fart humor to this forum. I don't do it enough. (and by that I mean ADD the humor.) Comedy Gold, my friend.

Sir-
And thank YOU for the gift of poetry. Dubbing you laureate.

Al-
Nothing spreads Christmas cheer like a pre-rehab Drew Barrymore reference. For that, I thank you.

Sugarplum visions for each of you. ----- -------- TITLE: There's Always Room for Brain-O AUTHOR: julie DATE: 12/14/2004 03:11:00 PM ----- BODY:
Bitchasshelldeath. If I spend too much longer in this job, Bill Cosby will provide the voice over for my brain's commercial. Jell-o brand Brain-ioca Puddin' Snacks. Deeeeeeelay-cious! So, I need a break. What's going on? ****************************** Who was it? Lindsey (yes...I think so) and I were talking about funny a/o BAAAAD commercials. I told her about that one that shows a woman on some low carb diet dreaming about foods she "can't" eat anymore. There is a voiceover saying something like, "I can go without cereal (Demon!), but what I really miss is YOGURT. Spence saw that and was like, "Who misses yogurt? No one likes that shit to begin with, they just eat it as a substitute for something better." Then, Lindsey brought up that asinine yogurt commercial where the two girls are saying how good their yogurt is. "It's 'good haircut' good," etc. She hates that commercial, and I don't blame her. Who talks about food that way? I can tell you right now, we could be eating steak and lobster and Lindsey and I wouldn't be going, "Mmm...this is 'shoes on sale' good." We'd be like, "Good Christ, this steak is my new boyfriend! Pass the wine." Last night, I saw the new one where these same girls are sitting at what appears to be a deserted wedding reception, in fugly bridesmaid dresses, eating their yogurt, saying it is "cute groomsman" good, and "never having to wear this dress again" good. Um, first of all, no wonder the reception was empty. If you serve Yoplait at a wedding for which I just bought you a $75 towel and washcloth set from your registry, I'm out. Of course these two stuck around for the yogurt. If I were them, I wouldn't be complaining about wearing an ugly dress for a friend...it's likely you don't have many friends anyway, being so annoying and all, so suck it up. ********************************** I still have a gift certificate from my birthday, so I went to the store to buy some jeans. After trying on several pairs, I left feeling depressed because apparently, my body doesn't fit the preppy argyle & striped ties body type like it once did. But I stopped feeling like Fatty Magee (McGee?) when I spun the experience in my head by thinking that clearly now I am storing all my "hot" genes in my ass until I pass them on. *********************************** I almost wet my pants. Brent linked to me. Really. You have no idea of the extent of my dorkdom...how excited links make me. Well maybe you do. Now I am a shooting star, like Anna Nicole. I need to practice my slurring. Thasssssssall forrrrrnoww. I loooove you. Now, getttttta tattoooofmeeee onyour boooody.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 12/16/2004 03:23:00 PM Ah, I remember the Mary Tyler post. You made me, blush.

Brent's a hunk of burnin' dork. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 12/16/2004 03:24:00 PM Ugh, that was me. Don't EVER type and eat Chex Mix at the same time. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!

-Lauren
Always with the Talking, RIP
New Jan Brady ----- -------- TITLE: Holiday Greeting #3 AUTHOR: julie DATE: 12/13/2004 10:54:00 AM ----- BODY:
Worried that partially nude cherubs would condemn all Heaven's citizens to eternal damnation, John Ashcroft helped to pass legislation that banned all body parts from the neck down. *Post your own caption in the comments section and guarantee your spot on the naughty or nice list.*
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 12/13/2004 01:12:00 PM CHERUB 1: "Raise your fluffy little wing if you want go with moi to soar over the NJ Turnpike.... and take a dump on car windshields below."

CHERUB 2: "Oooo Ooo! Me ME! I wanna! I wanna go! Pick me! PLEEAAASSSEEE!" ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 12/15/2004 01:36:00 PM "Wanna make out?"

"Hmm, 'kay."

-Lauren/New Jan Brady ----- -------- TITLE: Holiday Greeting #2 AUTHOR: julie DATE: 12/10/2004 01:53:00 PM ----- BODY:
Frosty the Snowman was a jolly, happy soul, with a corncob pipe and a button nose and testicles the size of basketballs. *Please spread the holiday cheer by adding your own caption in the comments section!*
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 12/10/2004 02:55:00 PM This comment has been removed by a blog administrator. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 12/10/2004 05:10:00 PM This comment has been removed by a blog administrator. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 12/10/2004 05:11:00 PM The Truth about Frosty's trek to the North Pole...
He wasn't melting, he was seeking a cure for elephantitis of the balls which had been discovered by native eskimos in a remote region of the Arctic. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger julie DATE: 12/10/2004 05:29:00 PM SIR TALKS A LOT's comment was MISTAKENLY erased because a certain "other poster" (let's just call her Mallison) posted twice. When I tried to delete it, because though, funny, didn't bear repeating, I deleted SIRTALKSALOT's comment instead. So here it is:

Sure Frosty had a corn cobb pipe, but does anybody know what was IN that pipe?

(Sorry, Sir) ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger I'm Brent, ya dorks. DATE: 12/10/2004 08:35:00 PM The Children's Mafia knew the perfect wintery disguise for a corpse. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger SirTalksALot DATE: 12/13/2004 09:13:00 AM When I first saw the comment deleted, I thought 'uh oh' perhaps I'd offended. How sweet of you to repost! Keep on bloggin', Jules, YOU RULE! ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Anonymous Anonymous DATE: 12/16/2004 05:12:00 PM Meh heh heh.

-Mallison, the blogging gremlin ----- -------- TITLE: Holiday Greeting #1 AUTHOR: julie DATE: 12/09/2004 05:40:00 PM ----- BODY:
With enough rouge, the hottie with the mistletoe will surely forget you're a midget. *Add your own Christmas caption in the comments section!
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 12/09/2004 09:19:00 PM And if not, just jump up and punch him in the knee. ----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger I'm Brent, ya dorks. DATE: 12/10/2004 08:30:00 PM "Merry Christmas with Lots of Things" was the popular holiday greeting amongst detached, powder junkies of the time. ----- -------- TITLE: No Shit! AUTHOR: julie DATE: 12/07/2004 03:06:00 PM ----- BODY:
After listening in on an exchange between a couple of tweens this morning on the subway, I realized that the phrase "I shit you not" makes me giggle. It's like, way to class up a foul mention of defecation, dude. "Art thou shitting me, Perseus?" "No, fair Madeline. I shit you not."
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger I'm Brent, ya dorks. DATE: 12/09/2004 02:17:00 PM I was once so angry at a horrible motorist I yelled out "Fuck my balls, you whore!". That one kept me thinking for weeks. ----- -------- TITLE: The Poodle and the Tramp AUTHOR: julie DATE: 12/07/2004 02:00:00 PM ----- BODY:
So Al inspired a bad-date-a-thon, which is not so much what the name implies (we all didn't intentionally go on bad dates...to raise money for Corky and friends), but rather an oral presentation of all the misadventures in coupling (I got sick of saying "Bad date." Does anyone else think of Sallah catching that monkey poisoned fig before it lands in Indy's mouth?) my friends and I have experienced. Lindsey has a funny one. Jen has a few. As awful as I think some of my rendezvous have been (like the time I asked "the soldier" why he giggled when I casually mentioned something that would hint as to what my political leanings were, and he responded, "No! I'm sorry. I just think it's so cute when pretty girls try to talk about politics." Um...thank you? Asshole?) I don't think I have heard one funnier than Al's Bad Date #1. I remember her telling me about that night, too. Right before she decided to give him a second date. I was going to write about all of the doozies I have been on, but today inspired something else. I had no choice but to recall this little gem. Remember when I told you Al was crazy in the last entry because she was walking around town, zipper down? PS: Between you and me, that's also how she gets dates...the fine caliber of men she sees thinks it's HOT. Hee! Homeless junkies love it when you forget to XYZ. Well, I discovered karma in all it's jokester glory. Do not tease friend lest their misfortune will fall upon you. Not only did I realize my zipper was down for who knows how long, but I spoke with all three coworkers and a guy who works in the suite down the hall with a LOUDLY printed pair of undies screaming out from under my denim. They had pink and black poodles on them. (At least I am an equal opportunity dog supporter.) I am 27. And wearing poodle panties and showing them off to all of New York City. And to you, fine reader. I thought the guy from 2 doors down was shy or something, avoiding eye contact and looking down...at my waitband? Poor thing. Social anxiety is not a disease to be laughed at. Even more embarrasing is that...I am not. Embarrassed. Not even to admit to the pattern of my unmetionables (that aren't) to the entire world. Conceited, much? The entire world reads my little blog. Yes, Julie. No one can get enough of your subway encounters and shoutouts to your teeny circle of friends. So, to segue into something comletely non-sequitor...I ate a turkey sandwich with WAY too much mustard and not near enough turkey. That reminded me of the time that Spence told me he ate mustard and cheese sandwiches when he was a kid. After noticing my appalled grimace, he said, "What? You didn't eat those when you were little?" Me: Shaking head, emphatically "No." Him: "Why not." Me: "Because I wasn't a hobo." So, Allison. Although you trump me with bad date stories, I think I date a hobo, too. Seems like I wanted to mention something else, but as the cat and beginning of fine lines and wrinkles would suggest, I can't remember what it was. You're probably better off. Who knows if I'd have regaled you with a personal history of underwire.
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger lindsey DATE: 12/08/2004 06:42:00 PM Hey, are you talking about the time that guy came over after we went out and we were all telling stories and he told the one about when he was thirteen and he shot someone. With a gun. On Purpose.

I miss Texas. ----- -------- TITLE: The People of New York #2 AUTHOR: julie DATE: 12/01/2004 11:58:00 AM ----- BODY:
(The People of New York #1) The behemoth Christmas tree in Rock Center was lighted last night which served as the flying green flag for all the insanity, er...I mean...Holiday cheer to plow, full throttle, through the streets of New York. Crazies, start your engines. Hoo, boy! What this city DOESN'T need is a "little Christmas," right this very minute, or really, even the next minute. What is DOES need, is manners. A lot of em. Now think. If you add a kajillion more people to an already congested city, what do you get? More congestion. And people? People. Are. Rude. When. Congestified. Congestcated? Congestered. Speaking of... Al and I were out shopping last night (for ahem yarn ) and a guy sneezes without covering up his snot riddled nose and/or mucus infested mouth. Immediately, she goes into this mantra: "I love New York. I love New York. I love New York." She had to do this to convince herself that she still wants to be here. I, on the other hand, had to repeat, "I am friends with Allison. I am friends with Allison. I am friends with Allison." What? She was talking to herself. On the street! In public! With actual people around! I don't want to look like I attract the crazies. Heh. Right. Like I don't already. She even, as we discovered later, had her zipper was down the whole night. (Pssst. She's crazy, I tell you!) I guess I am feeling a little bah humbuggy. Spence is in Dublin and he just oooozes Christmas Spirit. (Ew. Note to self: don't ever say someone you love oozes anything. Grody. "Hey! Watch what you're doing! I just slipped on all this Christmas Spirit in the hallway! Three words. Brawny. Paper. Towel.") He is usually the one who wants to get a tree and enjoys prancing around in the snow. Well, he doesn't prance. He just walks. Normally. It's a normal, manly walk. I don't want you to think I am in love with Corky St. Clair. Anyway. He loves taking me Christmas shopping, and enjoys all the nog, and the cheer and whatnot. Spence is just so magical that he...well, I don't know...he...just pulls a rabbit out of my ass on the count of three. WAIT! NO! He just is. Magical. And he instills that sense of excitement especially around this time of year. And he's not here. So, you do the math. Guess where our Christmas decorations are? If you said, "in the closet" you are right! Where will they stay this year? Right, again! You are en fuego! But, I do give myself a little holiday credit. I do still have some Halloween candy. New York. Christmas. I swear some guy lowered his shoulder before he crashed into my frail little body yesterday. And did he say, "excuse me?" Oh no. He did not. Did I give him the finger? Oh yes. Yes I did. (I am becoming one of them. I need me some manners, too.) Jingle all the way! It was raining like Jesus was crying this morning. Which, let's face it. He probably was. I bet he still can't get over the election results. Because of this, the trains were disfunctional. DISFUNCTIONAL. A little water on the tracks? The signals malfunction. Hmmm...New York is an island...looks like we'd have planned for this. I wonder how we can land on the moon, but cannot fix a little track water. If the signals malfunction, trains are impossibly slow, which leads to eleventy frillion people trying to clamor in from out of the rain, into the subway station, to add to the hugamajillion people already in there because the trains...they are not a' comin.' One prince of a guy shook his umbrella out all over me. Thanks, man. Fa la la la la la la la la. A very plastic-y, "pulled" Upper East Side bitch pulled me out of a crammed subway car I had sardined myself into this morning...so she could sardine herself in my place. My jaw hit the floor on that one, but at least I gained my composure in time to say, "If you're rushing to get to your plastic surgeon, ask him what you should do about your jowls, and for God's sake, enough with the eye lifts. Your eyebrows are where a debutante's headband should go." She just heard the jowl part. The doors shut shut before she got that last little gem. My fellow 6 trainers in a 2 foot radius laughed, though. Peace on the earth, good will toward men! When I finally got off at my stop, a woman tossed a half full (still, I am an optimist) coffee cup into the trashcan, but not before a third of it splashed all over me. Luckily, my raincoat was still zipped, otherwise I would have gone Kill Bill on her ass. Repeat the sounding joy! "I love New York. I love New York. I love New York." What? Why are you backing away from me?
----- COMMENT: AUTHOR: Blogger allison DATE: 12/01/2004 05:40:00 PM As I already mentioned to Julie, I thought my jeans were fitting surprisingly well yesterday (dammit!) Long sweaters, y'all. I am bringin' 'em back!

Julie, it is no wonder you are feeling so frustrated this holiday season. Your Christmas is gay...let it out of the closet so it can be free to express itself.

I need help. ----- --------