Writing on the Wall

I just got the phone list from Paris Hilton’s phone.  Granted it was sent to me through my husband’s friend, but it still makes me feel slightly popular.  Like I have finally made it. 

I ROCK!

What will be the next stage of internet viruses.  I was thinking that maybe people will come up with exe files that automatically start as soon as you double click on an email.  Almost like a CD has that AutoPlay feature when it is put into your cd-rom drive.  Wouldn’t that blow people away?  How would we fight it?  I think people would be brought to a stand still online. . .

Just wondering of course.  No plans right now to bring down the world. . . yet.

For those of you who do not know – Dillard’s has a 75% off sale on shoes.  I will be there as soon as possible purchasing the latest thing that will make me feel pretty.  I am so excited to be in my element.  It is like a kid in a candy store.  Stilettos, sling-backs, boots, flats. . . . it could go on and on and on.

Am I the only person who finds Jerry on the Bachelorette to be a little bit wrong?  I seriously think that he looks at her as a trophy and nothing more.  If she does pick him it is going to be one rocky ride.  I love John Paul!  He is a perfect catch – anyone who walks away from him is a fool. 

to clean throw up off the ground from BOTH dogs at 2:30 this morning.  Bandit must have lost at least half of his body weight and Smokey wasn’t far behind.  I am sure that it is because you let them play in the grass for 4 hours last night and had them eating away at it.  When they made all of those wretched sounds this morning, I turned on all of the lights to deal with their pain and you laid in bed snoring very loudly and then attempted to CUDDLE when I cam back to bed.  No thank you sir.

So I am part of this group on-line that sends me reminders and emails everyday to keep me in line.  Basically reminds me when to get stuff done.  I don't read 95% of the emails that they send me because I feel like they are centered around women who have nothing but the on-line group and stay at home with children.  But I know that they mean well and try to keep people motivated.

Through this group I receive emails from a nutritionist who gives out information and really good recipes.  One of her emails really made me think today. 

Her email was on pesticides and other foreign items used in our foods.  One portion creeped me out and made me think about where all of my food is coming from.  For instance she mentions,

"DDT banned from the U.S. in the early 70's.  Though banned in the U.S., DDT is still being produced and sold to Third World countries. They use this deadly substance in their agriculture, as well as to control the spread of malaria.  This is happening right now today, almost 30 years after this carcinogen was taken off the shelves.  Even worse, private companies in the United States produce this killer and sell it to these countries."

The reason that this really hit home is how many people really know where their food is coming from?  Which countries are my fruits and veggies being developed?  Can I be assured that DDT and other pesticides that are harmful to people are not being used on my foods?  I can't. 

Does this creep anyone else out?  I know that I mentioned one of my new years resolutions is to start eating more organic when possible, but seriously people every time I read something to this effect I get on my soap box and say, "THAT IS IT!" because I am done worrying that someone else isn't looking out for my best interest or for the interest to my future children and grandchildren.

 Somebody needs to tell me that it is all better than I think it is because right now I am freaked out.

As requested: a discussion on John Corbett . . . . . well I hate to admit this, truly I do.  I am not very attracted to John Corbett.  I think it might have something to do with the fact that I appreciate clean men.  Those men that looked like they have shower and shaved in the last 24 to 48 hours, who wear nicely pressed clothes and appreciate a good glass of wine.  Now, if you know my husband this might seem like an oxymoron for me to make such a statement.  My husband is in construction – not the gross sweaty kind, the back stage, running the show kind of construction, which keeps him clean.  He also doesn’t mind a good workout, built his own workbench in the garage this weekend, and knows how to fix the majority of household problems.  However, he appreciates a good button down shirt and irons all of his own clothes.  He even ironed his jeans this morning. He doesn’t watch any sports; I bet you $20 he couldn’t tell you more than 6 players on the Phoenix Suns right now. And best of all he will listen to all kinds of music; he is not ashamed to admit a love for country music, and has even attended an NSync concert and Justin Timberlake (with me of course).

So when I think of John Corbett, although he has nice hair, I don’t really think of him as the all accepting man – I think of him as the frustrated man who only sees things in black and white and has no appreciation for a good pair of shoes.  And let me tell you, there is nothing better than a fantastic pair of shoes that a woman gets complemented on all the time and she never experiences the trials of blisters.  The picture is completed with a nice matching handbag and perhaps a wonderful pedicure, but really, in the scheme of things the shoes are the most important.  And frankly I never remember him once noticing SJP’s shoes.  Therefore, I can do without John Corbett.  He doesn’t even show up on the radar of “men I would like to have coffee with” and most definitely not on the “THE LIST”. 

I will later continue with a dissertation on breast augmentation (which I don’t have), prostitution (which I don’t get), and the karma sutra (which I wish I had and very much so get) at a later date.

It is very well known that I hate Mexican food.  Hate it wish a passion.  Mainly because for two days after I have the worst stomach pains and internal fits with my digestive track that I come to hate myself for giving it another try.  Another reason – I don’t like spicy food.  It gives me terrible heartburn and I can be doubled over in pain for hours after.  I typically don’t sleep well after it.  My friends constantly make fun of me because of my hatred toward the food.  But I think – why be in pain?  Why suffer for days?  I would rather sit quietly with a plate filled with sopapillas and a margarita and be happy than ever try to eat another chimichunga, enchilada, or the like again. And believe me, the Margarita always hits the spot and I am a very happy person afterward.

But for some reason Matt’s Grandmother doesn’t get it.  On Saturday night Matt’s family of course wanted to meet for Mexican Food at a local place.  Matt’s family eats only at Mexican food restaurants and it makes me rather happy.  My family has not offered to go to a Mexican food restaurant in about 5 years because they know of my trials and tribulations.  But for some reason Matt’s family thinks it is just some quirk and never thinks “maybe we should go somewhere else.”  It is fine, I can get over it and really I married into it so I need to suck it up.  I just make sure that we have no plans after dinner so that I can run home and plant myself in my bathroom for the next 30 minutes and all is good.  I only order fajitas when I go to Mexican food with them.  It is by far the blandest item I can ever find on the menu and something that I can modify as much as possible in order to adapt to my eating needs.  As I quietly waited to order Matt’s grandmother thought that it was time that I learned to love Mexican food.  She spoke to me for a full on 15 minutes about how much they love this type of Mexican food and how it is so much better than the crap that they serve at other Mexican food places and how I just needed to try all of the different types of salsas.  I kept trying to politely turn her down but she.just.didn’t.get.it.  And continued to harass me as much as possible until I would try some sour cream concoction with jalapenos in it.  Something was mentioned about this is the only real Mexican food and the stuff at Macayo’s is junk.  That is up to you to decipher for yourself, but frankly I love having my margarita out of senor bob’s head.  It is just too cool.

I tried the nastiness know as heaven to grams and wanted so badly to spit it out across the table or throw it up like in that scene from a recent Made from MTV where that poor boy wants to impress the girl and eats a mushroom only to throw it up two seconds later.  But I don’t, I keep it down and smile.  I had tried to gain help from my husband, who was sitting next to me the whole time just staring to see what I would do next.  He says absolutely nothing to save my honor.  We finish the meal with a little more said about how wonderful Mexican food is and how they all love it.  I steal my niece from her father in order to gain some time not having to discuss my dislike for Mexican food and then we spend what seems like 45 minutes in the front chit chatting.  I decide it is time to make my move out to the car as quickly as possible as to avoid the awkward pained face I make once my stomach works into high gear.  Matt of course takes his time because he is slower than a tortoise.  As he gets out of to the car I kindly remind him of the “Save the Spouse Rule” and how next time he is in an uncomfortable position with my grandmother and some water chestnuts I may not come to his rescue as quickly thank you very much.

I later spent a good 15 minutes in the bathroom contemplating my revenge for Matthew.  Because, you know, I HAD THE TIME.  And nothing I could come up with was as good as a compromising position in the back of a Volkswagen.  Funny how it always leads back to this.

Have any of your noticed the google ads located on the website?  They change to fit what you are talking on the website – Jelly beans, Baby burp cloths (I am guessing in reference to my gas), and Pink Flloyd from my off handed comment of Matt’s ability to know everything nonsensical and worthless. I love it becuase I am intrigued by what might come up next.  What if I said something about laxatives, condoms, or steroids. . . . would something different show up that might be more entertaining?  That or how about live nudes!  Masturbation!  Sex Toys!!  Think I might get any good porn?  Or will it be something about paintings of nudes?  Becuase that wouldn't be nearly as interesting.  Unless of course it was Brad Pitt that was nude, and then it is okay.

I FOUND THE POPCORN TASTING JELLY BELLY TODAY.  NOT GOOD.  NOT GOOD AT ALL.  If you ever come across a light brown colored jelly bean, please proceed with caution and have a backup bean prepared for counteraction.

Maybe a new key to the jellybean is the scratch and sniff portion of the bean.  That way you can’t be surprised.  Scratch ahead of time and confirm what should be thrown away without a second thought.  I just had another light brown that was espresso.  Yummy.