Saturday, June 30, 2012

The Happy Puppy Next Door

Every once in a while we come across situations in life
that remind us there are still some good people out there.
I came across such a thing yesterday,
and even though it's really not that big of a deal,
I just can't quit thinking about it.

So here it is.
A few weeks ago when Harlow was away at camp
(so I was extra sappy about dogs)
I noticed my neighbor had just got two new Ridgeback puppies.
They looked like this.


Which obviously reminded me of Harlow.
So whenever I saw the two pups playing outside I would stop for a moment
to watch and ooooh and awwww.

One day I saw the owner walking one puppy,
and she was pushing the other in a baby stroller.
My first reaction was,
"that's the cutest thing ever," because it really was.
And naturally I thought it was a little odd as well.
But people do weird things with their dogs. To each their own.
But then I continued to see this same situation over and over-
one little pup running along the stroller while the other looked out from
inside the stroller.

So yesterday I saw her strolling by my house and I had to say something.
I first complimented her on her two new adorable puppies, 
and then casually asked why one was always pushed in a stroller.
Here's what I learned.

Not long after she adopted the puppies, the little boy broke both his legs.
When she took him to the vet she found out that he was
born with a rare bone disease that makes it very easy for him
to break bones while he is still growing.
The girl told me the vet suggested she just "put him down"
as it was going to take a lot of work and care to get him back to normal.
But she didn't even consider it.
Instead, she puts in the extra work and care it takes to care for 
a puppy with two broken legs.

When it's time for a walk, she leashes the little girl puppy,
and the little boy puppy gets to go along in the stroller.
And they go on a lot of walks.
And when they're not walking she's playing with them in their courtyard,
she holds the boy in her arms while the girl runs around.
And the thing is, you can tell when a puppy is happy,
and the little pup who can't walk has the sweetest puppy smile I've ever seen.
He rides in that stroller and wags his tail the entire time just happy to be along.

This is a weird sappy dog post, I know.
But I just think it's so sweet and stuff like this stays with me.
Hope you're having a wonderful weekend,
and when things aren't going your way remember the puppy
who couldn't walk, but managed to wag his tail anyway.

and since I'm really laying on the sap I'll go ahead and share one
of my all time favorite dog photos.



XOXO
Dorothy Jane Torkelson






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Friday, June 29, 2012

Is Magic Mike a joke?

So is this a joke
or is "Magic Mike" a real movie?
What's next, are you going to tell me the Katy Perry movie is real, as well?


I honestly thought the Magic Mike commercial was an SNL parody the first time I saw it.
And the second time I saw it. And the third.
But it's real, huh?
So I guess this means all of the "hype" about it is real too?
Like girls legitimately want to see this movie?
I just don't get it.
Is it supposed to be funny? Or like 50 Shades of Greyish?

And why does no one remember that this movie was actually
made about fifteen years ago?
It was just called something different.
Or was I the only creepy 10 year old who's parents let them watch
bizarre English films like this one?

I've only seen one live male stripper in my life. (the rest were all dead)
Ok, sorry that was a weird dead -stripper joke for a Friday afternoon,
but I set myself up for it and had to run with it.
What I meant is one in person.
And he looked nothing like Channing Tatum.
We'll pretend this is him.
(because it is)

But don't worry, I put a fake mustache on him to protect his identity.

But this looks nothing like Magic Mike.
And his "dance skills" were nothing like Channing's in Step Up.
Granted, this "strip show" was actually in the musty basement of an old college party house,
so it wasn't necessarily the most professional setting.
But never the less, it was not a good experience.
From the minute Stripper man took off his hat, to minute he put back on his wedding ring,
I kept my eyes closed.

Call me a stick in the mud, but I just don't like male strippers.
Only female.
(Jk, I was scarred by them too after they took Jessie Spano.)
I just think male strippers are awkward and uncomfortable
and have obviously been abused by overly aggressive women at some point in their life.

On second that,
I take that back.
I don't hate all male strippers.
There is one that I like that goes by the name of Chris.
Chris Farley.


How could I have almost forgotten about the first Chris who stole my heart years ago?
This scene will forever be burned in my mind as one of the best moments of TV ever.
Almost brings a little tear to my eye that both of these great men have since passed.
But I digress.

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!
Life is too short not to celebrate the 4th of July for two consecutive weekends,
so why the hell not?


PS congrats to Angie @ Classy with a Side of Style you just won yourself
a Target gift card! Woo hoo!
So contact me at thedailytay@gmail.com

And PPS
I'm guest blogging at two blogs today,
one talks about peeing outside and the other offers great fashion tid bits,
which is which? Go find out!
A Mess of Beautiful Chaos
Love Each Day


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Thursday, June 28, 2012

The Day the Water Turned Brown

Shit got real at the dog beach today.
Like real, real.
Some of you may have realized by now that Harlow and I go to the DB
(it's what the cool kids call it)
almost every day. You are correct.


Do I wish sometimes I could go to the human beach
and just relax without worrying if someone was peeing on my bag,
or if someone was going to try to eat everything in my bag,
or if I had enough plastic bags to pick up poop with?
Of course.
But mind you there are also homeless people at the human beach that cause these same problems.
Regardless,
 I would just feel too guilty and selfish
if I was laying at the beach while my Harlow was cooped up inside on such a beautiful day.
So I make sacrifices. It's what good dog-parents do.

It's 102 degrees here today.
I usually don't get in the water, but today I had to.
And by "get in" I mean up to my ankles, sometimes shins.
So Har and I are frolicking in the water.
He's running like an idiot.
I'm holding my phone like an idiot trying to snap some photos.
And then suddenly he starts to squat,
he pees like a little girl so I initially didn't think anything of it.
But then, well, shit got real.
He starts #2ing in the WATER.
A little girl pointed and screamed
"He's pooping!"
But she might as well have screamed
"JAWS!"
Because everyone darted away from us as fast as possible.
My instincts said flee. But I knew I couldn't.
I had to face this brown shark head on.

But do you know what happens to poo in flowing water?
 It starts to flow.
So I start scrambling for my plastic bag like lava is encompassing my feet with every second.
I'm jumping from one foot to the other like a dancer on acid.
Then in one swift motion I bent down and attempted to scoop the poo
into my bag.
But who knew scooping shit from water is damn near impossible.
Talk about the Deadliest Catch.
I got as much as I could into my bag, but I knew some had escaped.
There just wasn't anything else I could do at that point.

As I was walking back from dumping the bag in the trash I noticed another dog
dropping a deuce, as well.
But he was at a point in the water where no one was watching.
Which answers my life long question,
if a dog shits in the water and no one is around, does it make a sound?
No, no it doesn't.
And this got me wondering, was it sand I was walking on in the water,
or... or was it something else?
I'm not going in that water ever again.

And this is the story of the day the water turned brown.
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Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Pre or Post Party?

Seriously though,
what weekend are we supposed to celebrate the 4th this year?
This has been weighing on me for at least three months now.
When the 4th falls on a Wednesday,
do you celebrate the weekend before or after?
Basically what I want to know is
when and where are all of the fun parties with great American food
and great American beer going to be held?
We all need to be on the same page here.
God forbid I'm the only moron at the lake this weekend in my stars and stripes suit.
Then again, I don't want to save it because what if next weekend everyone is over it?
All of this stress could be spared if we just finally came together
and once and for all made the decision
that the "4th of July" will always be celebrated on the first Friday of July every year.
That's it. Period.
I guarantee you something exactly like this went down hundreds of years ago.
For all we know Thanksgiving was probably like November 24th every year
until finally the pilgrims just got tired of trying to figure out
when the parties were supposed to be held when it fell in the middle of the work week
(because we all know communication was a bit harder back then.)
So John C. Pilgrm finally took a stand and said
"Enoughs enough. From here on out Thanksgiving will always be on a Thursday.
Thanksgiving Thirsty Thursday."

Makes sense to me.

I guess I have no choice but to celebrate both weekends.
This weekend in Nebraska, next weekend in Chicago.
It's really my patriotic duty.
I also felt it was my patriotic duty to buy these new flats in honor of the holiday-


I'm a fan of flats.
Even in the summer I prefer them over flip flops,
and this is because of the fact I have the ugliest "big toes" ever. Literally ever.
They've been called hammer heads on more than one occasion.
If you're thinking how ugly they must be, get ready to feel bad-
When I was 15 I had a tumor in my big toe and after the emergency surgery to remove it
it has never looked the same.
But the doctors said I was just lucky to be alive it was so bad.
That's a lie. I shouldn't lie about that.
True: I did have a tumor.
However it was never deadly, it did mangle my toe a bit, 
but that doesn't explain why my other toe still looks like a guerrilla foot...

 I also feel its my patriotic duty today to encourage all of you to go to 
Target and buy $10 worth of red, white, and blue shit in the dollar aisle.

So I'm going to host a giveaway!
Yay! 
I'll announce the winner Monday so you can have the gift card
by next weekend for the post-4th of July parties.

To enter:
1. You must follow this blog
(thus the point of the giveaway)

2. You can also Tweet about it

3. Facebook about it

4. Blog about it

that's four total entries, one mandatory, three optional.
*Just go ahead and leave one comment below telling me how many entries you have.

And now let's celebrate the 4th with a few photos from last year's festivities,
Thanks Sandusky for forever ruining naked baby pics...



Oh boy I love this holiday.
Then again, I love every holiday.
But this one is especially great.





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Tuesday, June 26, 2012

We came. We saw. We Biden'd.

When I said yesterday I was going to drop everything to be on watch for the Vice President to pull up,
I meant it.
Harlow and I did everything to be in on the action.
We went on a 100 walks, we went to the store twice,
we even attempted to take the trash out.
I say "attempted" because we weren't actually allowed to do so.
Not only was my alley blocked off by secret service men,
when I tried to get by them they first asked if I lived nearby to which I responded,
"no, I just really love the trash bins around here,"
and I looked dumbly at my two bags of trash.
Lesson learned the hard way: secret service men don't like sarcasm.
"Sorry, yes I live here. I just need to take my trash out."
So he said,
"show me some ID that proves you live here."
Who actually has their current address on their license anymore?
That is so 90s.
Okay, a lot of people probably do...
My license says:
7240 Dorchester Ct
Norfolk, Nebraska 68701
which is funny because Dorchester was my college house street (P2B forever!)
and Norfolk is the town I grew up in like 120 miles away from that street.
I'm always filling out forms too fast...

Regardless, I'm quite the smart ass so I promptly set my trash down and began digging
in it for a piece of mail.
"Aha! Here, my gas bill says 455 Belden. My address."
Of course none of this even mattered because I would soon learn my
trash bin was no longer in the alley.
There was not a single dumpster/trash bin in sight.
They were all just gone...
Apparently, Chicago didn't want Mr. Biden to know we have trash
so every single one was hidden for the time being.
And I think I counted the street cleaners go by at least three times.
I wish the VP came more often, because my neighborhood
looked phenomenal yesterday.

Here's what I learned-
the party was held at the residence of 444.
Who lives here? That's still up for debate...


This is an awful photo, I know.
I actually took it today after the excitement was all over because
I was a tad shy yesterday on account of the fact I'd walked by at least 30 times.

Tickets to attend the fundraiser started at
$1500 for social hour
$3000 for cocktail hour
and $5000 for dinner.
For Joe Biden? No, thank you.
I would, however, had been willing to pay that much to have drinks with
Jason Sudeikis dressed as Joe Biden.


When he finally arrived, sadly there wasn't much to see.
It was just an entourage of 100 black SUVS
followed by police cars and an ambulance.
How's that for well spent tax money?
USA! USA! USA!

Just to clarify I believe these people are blocking their eyes from the sun,
and not saluting...
But maybe not.


And that was my excitement yesterday.
Tomorrow my excitement will probably have something to do with the 4th of July.
And the Target card giveaway I will be hosting.
I'm in the new mood to buy some new followers once again...
So check back if you're willing to let me buy your readership!

Happy Tuesday.


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Monday, June 25, 2012

Bach Edition- "Emily!"


And then there were four.
Sean. Jef(f). Arie. and Chris.
The fab four and the Southern whore.
Oh stop, did I just say that?
Well I'm kidding. I still love Emmers.
But let's not pretend we didn't hear her say f*&k at least once.
Not to mention she also sent Doug the school girl
home because he wouldn't touch her fast enough...


First we've got Arie and the "scandal."
A scandal so great Chris Harrison felt it necessary to give a little PSA regarding it.
Chris, if you want more screen time try to at least be a little more subtle about it. 
So Arie dated "Cassie the ugly producer" five years ago. 
BFD.
This just shows me that Emily is one of those cray cray girlfriends who 
gets all pissed and jealous about who their guy dated long before she even came along...
Even though I still really like Arie,
sometimes I just can't look at him without picturing Adam from GIRLS.
And if you watch GIRLS, you know this is not a good visual.

And then we have Sean
who ran through the streets of Prague screaming Emily! Emily!
until he just "randomly" happened to run into her in a dark alley.
Go figure.
Talk about perfect timing! And of course she was oh so surprised to seem him.
And for some reason during this entire pathetic scene I couldn't stop picturing 
Cam from Modern Family screaming out for "Stella!"
This just made it a little more entertaining for me.


And Jef.
The little contestant that could.
How he is still around, I have no idea.
I love the little guy, don't get me wrong.
But then again I've always been a fan of The Breakfast Club.
But just because you love Anthony Michael Hall,
doesn't mean you bring him home to meet the parents.


Chris from Chicago needs to chill out.
He either has early stages of Parkinsons or needs to lay off the 
cocaine.
Perhaps both.
Am I the only one who noticed he was shaking and twitching through out
almost the entire episode?
If so, I'm also probably the only one who noticed he always seems to talk
with his chin tucked in, and his adams apple out- 
the result: Kermit the Frog voice.


John "Wolf" Blitzer was sent home.
But how are we supposed to be surprised when tonight was the first
night we were actually introduced to him?
You know what I think?
"Wolf" is still a little obsessed with that hooker that cheated on him last year.
If you can't talk about an Ex without tearing up that might be a red flag...


I'm exhausted.
Until next time, lead the life.





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The VP Next Door

Well I am beyond livid.
I've heard a little rumor that my neighbors are hosting a very fun
dinner party tonight and I am not invited.
I don't know about you, but I find that very rude.
To top it off,
they're making such a fuss about their fancy pancy party
 all of the streets surrounding my house are blocked off!
No parking. No where. None.
I had to park about ten blocks away.

That really grinds my gears.
So what if the VP is attending this stupid little party,
I want my parking spot dammit.
And by "VP" I mean the Vice President of the United States.
Good old Joey Biden.
That's the rumor anyway,
Mr. and Mrs. Biden are apparently going to be having dinner across the street this evening.
And I'll be damned if I don't snag myself an invite.
Or at least catch a glimpse of the action..
I'll set up a lemonade stand outside my house tonight if I have to.

Although I've heard that past 3:00 today anyone who wants to even come close to my hood
is going to have to show their ID to prove they live around here.
So poor Chris with his Kansas ID might have some trouble getting home tonight.
And it probably doesn't help he looks like a cross between a serial killer
and a Nazi in his driver's license photo-
(he said the lighting was bad.)

But you better believe I am going to be circling my block every 15 minutes
starting at about 4:00 pm today.
Truth be told, I've already started creeping.
Harlow and I just went on our 8th walk of the day.


This street is never empty.
It's eerily quiet...

But the action is starting to pick up.
We've seen secret service men,
secret service dogs,
and a lot of people in black suits.


Of course I'm remaining ambiguous in my green jeans and animal print flats.
I'm sure they haven't even seen me circle the grounds,
and I bet they hardly noticed when Harlow spotted a squirrel under one of the
many black SUVs and tried to dart underneath it.


I'll keep you posted.
I'm postponing all other work for the day as I've decided
it's my obligation as an American to be on the look out 
for any suspicious characters or situations.

And hopefully if I save the day I might just get that invite...
I have guacamole already made just in case-
you never want to show up to a dinner party empty handed.









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Sunday, June 24, 2012

In Da Club

Here's the thing about clubs,
I don't like them.
The music is too loud, the bathroom lines are too long,
 the people are too pretty-
oh, and don't even get me started on bathroom attendants.
I refuse, REFUSE I say, to pay someone
to dry my hands. If ever there was a bullshit job that's one.
(pun?)

Anyway,
If I'm going to get sloppy I prefer to be in a dark,
dirty bar where no one is going to judge me
if I just happen to start eating Doritos out of my purse,
or if I decide it's more comfortable to walk around barefoot.

But Friday night was an exception.
It certainly was.
Chris and I didn't just break out of our comfortable
little neighborhood of Lincoln Park bars,
we full on "clubbed" downtown bouncing from one hot spot to the next
(via limo of course...  )
we cut lines, had bottle service, and danced on booths...
It was soooo not us.
I feel like such an asshat just thinking about it.
Thank God much of it remains a bit blurry yet.
I blame the reason I drank about 18 cocktails on the fact
I was so obviously out of my element.

By 4:00 a.m. we were in a cab headed home
until I figured out I had left my scarf behind
and was damn near in tears because of it.
The funny part is I didn't even wear a scarf out...
How bout that.
Other than that, I will admit it was a pretty great night.

But great nights often lead to horrible mornings.
Yesterday was a struggle.
Luckily, Chris came to the rescue and ordered a "few" snacks to make us feel better.
1. Crunchy Mac N Cheese.
2. Spicy Chicken Wings.
3. Grilled Chicken Wings.
4. Breaded Mushrooms.
5. Mozzarella Sticks.

Oh greasy food, how I love thee.

And now, it's time for some Sunday night TV with these two-

I'm gonna smut it up a little with Real Housewives of New Jersey
(Chris loves this show)
and then follow it with HBO's new show "Newsroom"
just so I can feel at least half way intellectual with my television selection this evening.

Happy Sunday.
Make it an even happier Sunday and head over to Living in Yellow
and check out Erin's insanely large giveaway.
I'm giving away a copy of my book A Bottle For You. A Bottle For Me.
so head on over and register to win!












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Friday, June 22, 2012

Facebook Friday Ya'll!

Too Much? 
Facebook Friday.

This is my "go to" profile pic, by the way.
Butt out, side glance, "sexy look"
I got it all goin on, I know.


Now let's take a look back at some of my favorite posts from the week, shall we?

To the person getting in shape at the gym:
Looking good my friend!
Sometimes I just don't know how people worked out before Facebook
without being able to check in, post about it, give stats on their workout
and even share all those sweet photos of their new six pack!

To the girl who posted she's pregnant:
Congrats! However, the photo of the piss stick with a plus sign
might have been a little too much...
I don't want to see anything you have pissed on. Ever.
Perhaps my thoughts will
change someday when I have my own positive piss stick. But I don't think so.

Likewise,
to the girl who is most definitely crowning:
So you had (or are still currently having) your baby? Awesome.
Was it necessary to take photos of you while in the heat of labor?
 Maybe.
But don't you think it was just a little much to post those photos on Facebook?
Is nothing private anymore?

(Says the girl who blogs about every single day of life... judge me. I am.)

To the person with the new job:
Good for you! I'm pumped.
But if you're going to post "got the job" it's your Fb duty to say what exactly that job is.
It's just rude not to, and it causes creeps like myself
a lot of stalking and digging to try to figure out what that job is.
So save us both some time.

and on that same path,
To the person who has their shit together:
stop it.
You shouldn't be posting about your amazing job,
the mansion you just bought, or the sweet car you drive.
This isn't a game of MASH.
This is a 20 something's mini feed.
Which means you should be
happy/depressed/confused/pissed/tired/ecstatic/lost/broke/scared/motivated/WTFisgoingon
All. The. Time.
We're in our 20's. It's what we do.


And without further ado,
I'd like to introduce an awesome blogger who will
be guest posting on here today!
Her name is Jennie, she lives in London-
which obviously makes her cool just because of that fact alone,
but she also has great style advice she shares daily on her blog.
And she's also very funny. So it's like a win/win.
Read her post and then hop across the pond and check out her page!


Hi there!  I'm Jennie from Jennie's Daily Dose.  
I'm from Nebraska too so naturally my blog's name has "Daily" in it.
  (I was going for the Marge Simpson look)
This is my first guest appearance - lil' nervous and excited., pretty sure my fingers are sweating.  
Its probably just nerves, kinda like your first day at work - but this time I can be hungover and smell like alcohol and no one will know.
That's my husband and the main reason we are in London - his career moved us over here.  
We met in college (GO BIG RED!) at a house party.  
He was running the keg and I really wanted a beer so I flirted and next thing you know we're dating.  I thought this picture was fitting.
Anyways I am from Nebraska, lived in Chicago and recently moved to London.  
Well, not recently, a year and a half ago.  
My blog started out as a place for my friends and family to go to keep tabs on me, make sure I was alive, and to make them jealous of all the cool places I've gone to but that only lasted a week.  
I have a major shopping problem, lets just say the UPS guy and I are tight.  
So now I post about London, Fashion, Interior Design and some of the places we travel to for holiday (yes, that is right, I just said holiday).
I don't want to make you too jealous so I only post about some of the places.
I'm kidding!
I post about all of them to make you extremely jealous.  
Some days I will go off on a tangent about something like London's customer service,
lack of space in our flat,
and looking like an idiot at work trying to make tea runs.  
I mix everyone's orders up - it gets to be too complicated with English breakfast tea, Earl Grey, milk, one sugar, or no sugar with milk.   
Brits are particular about their tea...
they are not messin' around.
 It's an easy way to loose friends at work. 
Stop over check my blog out. 
 I love visitors!
Cheers,
Jennie
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Thursday, June 21, 2012

Harlow and the Squirrel

So something kind of weird happened today.
I may or may not have gotten my second invite to Hogwarts.
The first happened two years in Topeka in which I had a bizarre encounter with a fox.
And today it was with a squirrel.
I don't even want to tell it because you're going to think I'm lying.
But that's never stopped me before.

Let me preface by saying Harlow goes bat shit crazy over squirrels.
And that's still an understatement.
If I was just half as excited about anything as Harlow is about squirrels,
I would probably be running the world by now.
Or I would have been hit by a car years ago.
Either/Or.

Anyway,
Harlow spotted a squirrel on a fence and took off for it,
pulling me behind like an idiot.
And just for the record, the line
"who's pulling who?" every stranger likes to say to me while I'm walking Harlow,
isn't actually that funny anymore.
I know, disappointing! It was sad to me as well when I realized this.

But the squirrel quickly jumped from the fence to a tree,
and then this is when shit got weird.
Rather than running up the tree out of sight like every other bushy tailed rat,
he just stayed put and stared at us. Daring us to do something.
And then this is about the time Harlow broke his harness because
he was having such a heart attack.
So I had no other choice but to carry him.
And then I'll be damned if that squirrel didn't start following us.
He was five steps behind our every move.
He followed us for three blocks.
To paint you a picture just imagine
a sweaty blonde girl in flips flops and a tank top,
carrying a 60 lb dog that appeared as if it was having a seizure,
with a squirrel dressed in a top hat (he might as well have been)
 and a cane following close behind.

Enough was enough, I finally turned around and said,
"what squirrel? what do you want?"
so it walked up to us, hopped on a fence to get eye level,
and then it hit its tiny squirrel chest with its tiny squirrel hand.

I know you think I'm lying.
Which I often am when I tell stories about getting invited to Hogwarts,
but I swear to God this one is true.
It was the weirdest shit ever.
It caught Harlow and I so off guard we just stared.
But then like a coward I started to run away because I seriously
thought the squirrel either had rabies or was possessed.
And I was not in the mood to deal with either.

Regardless it was pretty embarrassing when I turned the corner
and almost ran right into a family of four walking inside their beautiful little brownstone
 and I shouted
"there's a squirrel that's following us! He's FOLLOWING us!"
The mother then hurried her small children inside...

Now who's bat shit crazy?

TGIT. I think I'm losing it.


If you'd like to check out a less bizarre rant of mine-
hop on over to this great style blog coming to you all the way from
London- now isn't that fancy?!
Jennie's Daily Dose
and then mosey on over to this blog as well!
Bartlebees Bumblings









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Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Big.

I had a total Tom Hanks "Big" moment earlier today.
I was sitting in training,
someone in charge was rambling on about
"margins and expenses and spread sheets and cutting costs"
and I was munching on all the snacks that were given to us in goody bags.
I was busily singing along to "Wake me up, before you go go" in my head
(which is pretty typical)
when somewhere in between  "take me dancing tonight"
and carving my pretzel into an anchor-
(a task harder than it sounds)

when I looked around the room and started to notice a few things.
First of all,
I was the only ten year old in the room who had 
eaten my entire goody bag.
And I was definitely the only five year old in the room
who was turning my food into various objects.
Everyone seemed to be incredibly engaged in what boss-man talking about.
And then I realized how old everyone looked.
What was I doing in this room full of old people discussing spread sheets?
No way was I old enough to be here. 


I knew I shouldn't have played that damn Fortune Teller scratch ticket last week.
It really messed up my life.
The only difference between Tom Hanks (Josh Baskin) and myself
is that at the end of his work day he got to go home to a super sweet apartment
with a trampoline inside.
It doesn't get much better than that.


Most of the time I still just feel like I'm elven years old.
I'm in fifth grade and my plans for when I grow up 
still involve participating in the Olympics,
maybe the WNBA,
and possibly writing a few best selling novels that all involve ghosts of some sort.
(The Goosebumps series changed my life.)

Oh life.
Seriously though, this isn't meant to be a deep dark post about how life is so dissapointing.
Not by any means, I'm quite happy with the way mine is folding out.
I'm think I'm just saying I still haven't gotten over the fact I'm not, 
and never will be,
 Shannon Miller circa 1996.

1996 Olympics Gymnastic Team FOREVER!!!


And just to be clear I'm really liking my new job this far.
Let's just say it's going to be quite entertaining...

And this post is about as random as it gets.



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