It's tough to be a girl, part 2

So we've established that there are, in fact, times when it might possibly be preferable to be a boy. The daily monotony of applying makeup, drying, and styling your hair are not the only downsides to being a woman. There are a few more unique "situations" that woman are forced to endure that men are not.

#1 Shaving


I hate to shave. HATE IT. I hate every stinking thing about it. I hate that it is messy. I hate that my razors are so expensive. I hate that it takes so long. I hate that I frequently nick myself. I hate that I shave on Monday, and have stubble the next day.

(If you don't experience this, don't tell me. It will alter my perception of you. I'm insanely jealous of you freaks that can go a week without shaving.I am a gorilla. Two hours after shaving, I start to prickle.)

One of my primary problems with shaving is that I have crazy sensitive legs. I've tried dozens of different razors, dozens of shaving creams, dozens of after-shave lotions and no matter what I use, I get the same result: smooth legs on day one, and horrible razor burn and itching on day two. It takes 2-3 days to go away, so I'm stuck not shaving during that time.

Don't get me wrong - I love the look and feel of smooth legs. But why is it ok for men to rock insanely furry legs when women get flack about going two days without touching the razor? I dated someone in high school that was just freaked out by the merest hint of stubble on legs. It seriously grossed him out. Wonder of wonders, I didn't end up with that guy. I consider myself lucky that my husband really doesn't care. He doesn't love that sometimes in the dead of winter my legs can get seriously ape-like, but he just laughs and shrugs it off. Until a man is prepared to shave his legs in solidarity, I dare him to comment on the state of mine.


#2 Why did no one tell me we would grow hair THERE?

There should be manual handed to us when we are a pre-teen that prepares us for the various insane ways that our bodies will one day embarrass us. If it hasn't happened to you yet, ladies, it's coming. Unless you are one of the freaks I mentioned above, in which case, you alternately rock and suck.

One day you'll be doing something and will catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. What you'll see will horrify you: a moustache. Excessive peach fuzz on the sides of your face. Perhaps random hairs sprouting out of your chin. Maybe your nose hairs are peeking down out of your nose to say hello.

We've established that I am a gorilla, a lovely bonus of my genetics that I received from my father. My mother's wonderful gift to me was her dark hair, so not only do I have excessive hair, but I have dark excessive hair. THANKS, PARENTS. As a result, I've had a 'stache since I was a teen. My natural eyebrows take over half of my forehead. Don't believe me? There's proof.


I started off using Sally Hansen creme bleach in high school. Every two weeks, I'd lock myself in the bathroom to complete this embarrassing necessity. Poof! Moustache be gone! I eventually moved on to waxing. At this point I own my own wax pot. Let me tell you - the upper lip is one of the most painful places on the body to wax. It hurts BAD.

I felt the need to hide this from Jason when we were dating. But one random day, we were sitting on the couch, watching a movie, and he began to peer closely at my face. "What, dearest?" was my reply. He nonchalantly pointed at my upper lip - "you might want to take care of that the next time you shave your legs, babe."

There were two ways to handle that situation: 1) be embarrassed, angry, offended, or all of the above or 2) view it as an opportunity to get real and laugh it off. I chose option 2. Ladies, if you are still hiding your hair removal from your significant other, come out of the closet. It's very freeing. Trust me, he's noticed your 'stache (or whatever else). He's just more polite than my husband and he hasn't mentioned it.

#3 Your lady parts aren't meant to be bald.


I seriously do not get waxing the vagina area. I'll be up front and I'll say I've never tried it. But if waxing my upper lip sometimes causes me to cry, I can just imagine how much THAT would hurt. I once tried to wax my legs, and I walked around with wax and cloth strips suck to my leg for three hours before I gained the nerve to rip it off. Needless to say, only one strip of hair was removed that evening, and I haven't tried it since.

Not to mention I'm really not even comfortable with my husband staring at my lady bits, so I can't imagine spreading my legs for someone to stare AND wax.

In case you don't remember, this is episode of ANTM where the contestant told Tyra she was a waxer, and Tyra decided it would be appropriate to jump up on the judge's table and simulate a brazilian wax.

We've established that I hate to shave. I once decided to try Nair - notice I said once. I got distracted and left it on too long, and had such a terrible reaction that I couldn't wear underwear for a month. Y'all, I am not a girl who goes out without underwear. It was painful, in more ways that one.

So, in conclusion, I think it is safe to say that waxing will never happen for me. Unless the husband offers to wax his genitalia, in which case I'd be willing to give it a gander. Just to see how THAT turned out.

I like bullets, so let's summarize, shall we?

Perhaps it is better to be a boy:

• You don't have to wear makeup (but seriously, boys, concealer is not just for girls)
• It takes five seconds to fix your hair (unless you a one of those boys - the ones that blowdry and straighten. Seacrest, I'm talking about you.)
• You can pull on possibly dirty, wrinkly clothes and get away with the Abercrombie casual look (but you smell)
• No shaving your legs (but you will never know the bliss of sliding between clean sheets with smooth legs)
• Moustaches are acceptable (but only Magnum PI can really pull it off)
• No manscaping of the male parts is required (although I hear it does make things look bigger... cough cough)
• Your bathing suit does not require hair removal (can't find a downside to this one)
• Orgasms. Every single time. (I had to throw that in there.)

But us girls never have to experience the horror of:

• Having a dangly appendage that could embarrass you at any moment
• Back hair
• Ugly, gnarled toes (mine may be crooked but pink polish makes it all better!)
• Receding hairlines
• Male patterned baldness
• Chest hair
• What else? Leave me a comment and tell me your thoughts.

In conclusion - GIRLS RULE. BOYS DROOL.

It's tough to be a girl

Most of the time I love being a girl. I love makeup, fashion, purses, high heels, soft and smooth skin, smelling good, and the million other benefits associated with being a girl. I really don't think I'd like having a penis. Having a dangley appendage that has a mind of its own and can embarrass you at any point during your day does not sound fun to me.

There are days, though, when I find it the various routines and habits that us women have to endure to be exhausting. Those are the days when I am jealous of men. My husband can get ready in 5 minutes and look reasonably presentable. Give him 20 minutes and a hot shower and he often looks better than I do, with an additional 60 minutes, tons of products, and a girdle. And speaking of girdles, do men feel the need to shove their extra body fat into a spandex torture suit? No, they don't care. They are accepting of their rolls, lumps, and bumps. It's us women that feel the need to wrap ourselves up that mummies just to look 5 pounds slimmer in our little black dresses.

I am not a girl who embraces her natural beauty, namely because I have no natural beauty. I've been blessed with huge honkin' pores, lots of redness, and hyperpigmentation (brown spots). Lovely. I really want to be the girl that can go out in public without makeup, and I just can't do it. Oh, I have. Some days I just don't care, but most of the time the appearance in the mirror shames me enough to at least put on a little foundation and powder, else I closely resemble Britney in her shaved head and paparazzi attacking stage.


Let's take a look at Kim Kardashian, shall we? Say what you will about her pseudo-celebrity status and sex tape, but she's a beautiful girl with amazing skin. I only wish I looked this good with makeup. Or how about Adriana Lima? There isn't that much difference between the natural face and her face with makeup. She's flawless.



They both make me sick.

Instead, I look more like Renee Zellweger when I first roll out of bed. Add in hair that closely resembles Elvis's pompadour, and you have my morning look. NOT CUTE. I'm even sporting that expression when I first get up. Mornings are not my friend.


Now, there are some tips and tricks that I've learned from celebrities that will help you on those days when you want to get out and run and errand without showering, applying makeup, or fixing your hair.

#1 Big sunglasses are your friend

I love me some big sunglasses. Besides the fact that they balance out my obscenely large and round face, they also make me feel very Jackie O.



Take a look at any tabloid, and see if you can find any pictures of stars without makeup. That person will almost always be wearing large sunglasses. Why? Because it covers up half your face. All you need is lipgloss when your dark circles and the bags under your eyes are covered up by your wide load shades.



#2 Hats camouflage second day bedhead wonderfully

If you went to college, take a minute and think back to your early morning, 8 am classes. Now, tell me. Did the majority of the girls in your class stumble in on Friday morning in baseball caps? They did at my school, and they were usually wearing their pajamas as well. Hats are wonderful. If you hair is tangled, greasy, sticking up or out, or smells like smoke, slap a hat on your head and head on out. No one will ever know.


I only wish I could pull off hats. My head is oddly shaped, and with my short hair I just look like Danny Devito. Or Lily Allen.

Of course, you get extra points if you put it all together. Now tell me, do you notice if Jessica is wearing makeup? Nope. Her hair is a hot mess, but do you notice that either? Nope. She just looks very boho chic.

In conclusion: if you see some freak at Walmart, wearing sunglasses inside, and sporting a trucker hat on their obscenely large head, walk up and say hello. That's probably me.

A mish-mash post

Welcome to today's edition of Things That Make Andrea Really Cranky. I'm in a very bad mood and I'm not really sure why. I had a reasonably pleasant day at work. I got some of my beloved Starbucks today, and I even did a little shopping in Target. So why the long face? Well, it is just one of those days - you know the ones, where you are mad and you can't really say why? Yep, one of those days. Here's what is grating on my nerves:

1. Please explain to me why there are people in this world who pee on the toliet seat and don't clean up after themselves. There is nothing worse than barging into 5 bathroom stalls, and all of them in various stages of EWW, Puke, and My Butt's Not Touching That! Listen, ladies, I respect that you want to pop a squat so that your heinie doesn't touch the seat. But if you sprinkle while you tinkle, be sweet and wipe the seat.
2. Why do fast food places have to give you your food in ten different bags? Wendy's - listen up: you can put my salad and burger in the same bag. And while we're talking, Dave Thomas, since when does a side salad have 10 pieces of lettuce? Is the economy that bad?
3. Dear co-worker: please do not spray half the can of lysol in the common areas of work. My lungs cannot take it. It literally makes me sick. Some people have asthma, thankyouverymuch.
4. Dear husband: when you say you are going to "clean the kitchen" after dinner, please do more than scrape off the plates and place them in the sink. That is not cleaning. You still need to do the dishes.
5. I really cannot stand Facebook and MySpace applications. I'm there to catch up and look at pictures, not poke people and be a mobster. Please don't be offended if I block the applications you send me. I just don't like them.
6. Bill Gates will not send you $10 million if you forward an email to all your friends. You won't get a phone call, and your luck won't be bad for 7 years. I HATE FORWARDS.

I also wanted to share with you guys my voting story. Do you remember me telling you that this year would be my first year voting at the polls? Well, Jason and I arrived at our designated elementary school at 6:50 on Tuesday morning. The line was already winding through the school, out the side entrance, and down the covered walkway. We got into line, right behind our neighbor (a big coincidence). After waiting about 20 minutes, we heard someone come out the door and start yelling, but we couldn't make out what they were saying. Shortly after, the line split and a huge group moved up to the front entrance to line up. We followed, foolishly thinking that was what the person had been shouting about.

After about 10 minutes, a woman come out the side entrance, screaming another volunteer's name at the top of her lungs.

"TOM! TOM! Why are those people at the front entrance? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THOSE PEOPLE?! Did I say to line up there? You need to tell them they are going to have to go to the back of the line!!!!"

Needless to say, that did not go over well. Not one single person moved, and we all started to talk amongst ourselves (about 50 people total). The woman comes up to us, screaming so loudly that spit is flying out of her mouth.

"I didn't tell you to move up to this entrance! What is wrong with you? You need to learn to listen! And because you can't listen, you have to go to the end of the line! Hahah! Serves you right!"

I should stop here and tell you all something. There's just something you have to know about me: I don't tolerate people yelling at me. I just don't. It brings out the attitude in me quicker than anything else in this world. This woman just had no idea what bear she was poking with her words.

Me: "Excuse me? Ma'am? You need to lower your voice. You will not yell at me or anyone else here. We all have nothing to say to you until you learn to speak to us in a respectful manner."

Woman: "Why are you even up here? What is wrong with you? I never told you that you could come to this entrance."

Neighbor: "Well, obviously you did because 50 people just don't move for no reason."

Woman, still screaming: "Well, you were wrong and you are just going to have to go to the end of the line!"

Me: "Excuse me?! I'm not going anywhere. You need to go find someone else to talk with us because I refuse to have a conversation with someone who is screaming at me. You aren't getting anywhere with any of us by acting that way. You need to walk away and calm down."

At this point the rest of the crowd begins to chime in with a myriad of responses:

"I'm not going to the back of the line! I'm been here for an hour!"

"If we weren't supposed to come to this entrance, why did you let those 10 other people in the door? Who were they? Were they friends of yours or something?"

"You need to learn some manners! This isn't the way you treat people!"

I shut my trap at that point because I had already made my point and there was no need to continue berating this woman.

At some point we all decided that we would go and get back in line behind the people we had been behind before. Surprisingly, no one was mad about 50 odd people cutting in line. The people I got in front of actually couldn't believe a poll volunteer had acted in that manner. The woman continued to yell and scream for the reminder of the morning, calling the other volunteers idiots and berating them for not doing things her way. I actually heard her call another female volunteer "stupid" and an idiot. Professional much? I do have to say, nothing gets a crowd socializing like a villain. We all bonded together real quickly after that episode.

And my neighbor? Well, she caused the true scene of the day. I didn't notice that she hadn't followed the rest of us when we returned to line. Turns out she refused to leave the front entrance until the woman let her in the door, so she was able to cut a good 100 people in line.

Ahhh, I feel so much better now! How about you? What's getting on your nerves today?

Why romance novels and The Notebook have ruined my life

Yes, you read that right. I know this movie is ages old, but today I'm pondering the media and its darn influence on our lives. Why must the heroes in books in movies be so dashing and romantic? Let's face it, ladies, men in real life rarely stand up to such scrutiny.

I started reading romance novels when I was in the 6th grade. My reading comprehension was higher than my peers, and young adult novels just weren't cutting it. My mother was and is a voracious Harlequin reader, and I used to steal her books. Yep, steal, because what mother wants her 6th grader reading about throbbing members? Right.

Anyway, I'm convinced that this greatly influenced my romantic life. I was not the girl who flitted around from boy to boy, dating just to date. No, I was waiting for THE ONE. The one that took my breath away, that made my heart beat faster, the one that I would look at and just KNOW - you know, like in romance novels, when the hero and heroine look at each other and are instantly soul mates? Only there is some catastrophe they must solve before they can be together?

My first kiss was not the stuff romance novels are made of. In fact, it was disgusting. Gross. Too much slobber and darting tongues and... well, it was bad. I've pretty much blocked it out, and I've chosen to say that my first kiss (which was more like my 8th kiss) was with my first love, at night, in the church parking lot. It was raining and it was perfect - definitely a movie moment.

Well, not that much of a movie moment. But almost. And doesn't every girl want that moment? That "I'm so into you that I want to jump on you, wrap my legs around you, and kiss you passionately?" Don't you want the moment where you run through the airport, having realized HE IS THE ONE YOU LOVE, and jump in his arms, passionately kissing, while music swells around you?

Hmm, I guess a lot of my romantic fantasies center around jumping and kissing. Maybe that should be my motivation for losing weight - so that I can jump and kiss without breaking my husband's skinny body. I must ponder this...

How about this moment? Don't you want to be paddled around a beautiful swamp, while ducks swim around you?


Jason and I visited this swamp, Cypress Gardens, and attempted to recreate this moment. Only it isn't the same with no ducks, spider webs the size of beach towels, and alligators drifting by. AND my husband is not Ryan Gosling, bless his heart.

One day I will have my movie moment. And when that finally occurs, I will share it with you, my dear readers. Hopefully it won't occur when I have Alzheimer's and finally realize that darling old man is, in fact, my husband.

Out of the mouths of babes...

I saw my nephew this weekend, and he provided some comic relief in regards to the 2008 Presidential Election.

Besides referring to Barack Obama repeatedly as "that man with the big ears, Rock Obama", he told me that he knew where John McCain lives.

Me: Really? Where?
J: He's down the road from my house.
Me: What?
J: Yeah, there's this house down the road that has all these signs that say "Vote for McCain." He must live there, cause you can't put stuff in other people's yards, right?

Dies laughing.

Quite a few of my clients have informed me that they are voting for Barack. I asked another client if she knew who was running, and she said "You are! Vote for Andrea, 2008!"

Oh, if only, right?

OH. MAH. GOSH.

This is too awesome for words. Yes, I was a band geek, and proud of it. What do you recognize in this video?

Ladies, are you wearing your underpants?

**This is actually a blog I wrote sometime ago on MySpace, but I'm reposting it here just because.**

Are panties (fashionably speaking) out?

They must be, if the wave of celebrities caught with the lady bits on display are any indication. Britney Spears was caught by photographers three times this week, wearing miniskirts or minidresses, with no underwear. Lindsey Lohan's crotch has been seen so many times that it has its own nickname - "Firecrotch". Oh, and let's not forget the pioneer of this trend, Paris Hilton. Everyone has seen her C U Next Tuesday.

I won't link you to the pics, because they are nightmare inducing, but I'm sure you could find them if you Google "Britney's bare vagina" or something similar. However, here's an article on the subject (no pictures): http://www.eonline.com/news/article/index.jsp?uuid=b8db522d-15ac-4f4f-8b4e-2764a71cefe1.

When did this become acceptable? I can sort of understand if one night Britney was feeling frisky and decided to abstain from underwear. Ok, fine. I guess it is plausible that she accidentally flashed her va-jay-jay to the entire world. But the next day, when the pictures were published, wouldn't you be horrified? Wouldn't you make sure your bits and pieces were covered the next time you went out? At the very least, if you wanted to continue going commando, wouldn't you put on pants or KEEP YOUR LEGS TOGETHER?!

Not Mrs. (Miss?) Spears. Apparently she got rid of her underwear drawer when she got rid of K-Fed. Maybe K-Fed stole all her underwear and is going to sell them on E-Bay to keep himself in the style to which he has become accustomed (thanks to Britney's money).

Britney, Britney, Britney. I won't even talk about your questionable extenstions that you appear to have purchased from your local dollar store. I'll refrain from asking where your children are when you are out partying every night. I'll even ignore the fact that you are BFFs with Paris Hilton, Queen of No Talent. But I can't ignore your vagina. It's right there in my face. Honey, no one wants to see your c-section scar. Cover that mess up. I'm worried someone might catch those STD's that Kevin probably gave you.

Let's review the merits of panties:
1. First and foremost, they cover our va-jay-jays. It's still taboo (to most people with sense) to show those off in public.

2. They can be sexy, cute, slimming, smoothing, sporty (insert an adjective here).

3. Boys seem to like them (exception: granny panties).

4. They keep your privates private.

5. Again, most importantly, they cover your private parts. This is the most important lesson to take with you from this blog. Cover your lady parts!

McDonalds really IS the root of all evil

You know, I've never really been a huge McDonalds fan. I was never really a fast food person to begin with. I mean, I love me some eating out. I could eat out at a restaurant 5 days a week. However, that gets pricey, right? Sometimes you just have to get something quick, and fast food is lovely for those times. I'm definitely a Wendy's girl - the 99cent menu is fab, and you can never go wrong with a spicy chicken sandwich and a caesar salad.

Anyway, I'm rambling. Back to McDonalds - I never really ate at McDonalds until we moved to WA and starting living on the Subase. There is a McDonalds literally one block away from our house. I can walk there in less than 5 minutes.

Sidenote: Not that I do walk to McDonalds, obviously. I mean, if I'm going to consume a few gazillion calories of fat and grease, why attempt to burn some calories with a walk? Come on, people. LET'S BE REALISTIC.

So, again, anyway... now this McDonalds is a hop, skip, & jump away (clearly, I don't do that, either - have you seen me?!), and boy, do we eat there often. I was super excited to learn of the return of the McDonalds Monopoly game. Finally, an excuse for my bad behavior! Now I wasn't just filling up on empty calories - I was winning a million dollars! I WAS PROVIDING FOR MY FAMILY! It was absolutely imperative that I eat that cheeseburger.

I admit, I got a little crazy about the game. I started going through the drive-through in the mornings to get a large coke just so I could get a game piece. I encouraged Jason to eat there for lunch for more pieces. Who cares if we gained 5 pounds a piece? WE ONLY NEEDED ONE MORE! Come on, Boardwalk!

But that crafty McDonalds... it never delivered. I never won anything. I was convinced that I needed was the power of positive thinking. I asked Jason to chant "I WILL win today!" before revealing the game pieces. I promised to tithe and give to charity with my prize winnings. I did everything short of trolling Ebay for my missing pieces (and I admit, I thought about it) or offering my first-born to friends for their pieces.

Alas, it wasn't meant to be. The game was supposed to run until November 13th, and the McDonalds on base stopped giving out game pieces two weeks ago. Wonder of wonders, my interest in their food stopped about that time as well. I swear I will throw up a thimble if I ever see another 5 piece chicken selects meal.
There's always next year, right?

Taking a stroll down memory lane

I ran across this and had to share - does any of these bring back memories for you?

YOU KNOW YOU'RE A CHILD OF THE 80's/90's IF:

1. You've ever ended a sentence with the word "psych!" I also remember "Not!" being popular.
2. You watched the Pound Puppies. I don't really remember watching the Pound Puppies, but I did own a few stuffed Pound Puppies.
3. You can repeat the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song and do the Carlton. "... got in one little fight and my mom got scared/she said you're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air..."
4. Girls wore biker shorts under their skirts and felt stylish and sexy. Yeah, I never did this. Biker shorts are NOT cute on chubby girls.
5. You yearned to be a member of The Babysitters Club. Dude, I loved the Babysitters Club. Stacy was my favorite!
6. You owned a Strawberry Shortcake scented doll. No doll, but I did own a SS comforter and sleeping bag.
7. You know that "Whoa!" comes from Joey, on Blossom. Oddly enough, he now closely resembles Mr. Clean.
8. Two words: Hammer Time! Doesn't everyone know how to do the Hammer Dance?
9. You watched Fraggle Rock. Down at Fraggle Rock (clap clap)
10. You can sing the entire theme song to Duck Tales.
11. It was actually worth getting up early on Saturday to watch cartoons. Dude, our cartoons ROCKED! What the heck is up with today's cartoons? I'd like to punch the people who invented the Teletubbies. I'm convinced they were all on an acid trip.
12. You wore a ponytail on the side of your head. Sure did, and sprayed my bangs up in a wave, too.
13. You saw the original version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles at the movies. I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes, I did.
14. You got super excited when it was time to play Oregon Trail at school. I still love Oregon Trail, although I always die of dysentery.
15. You made your mom buy you one of those clips that held your shirt in a knot at your side. I wore it along with my alternating colored slouch socks.
16. You played MASH (mansion, apartment, shelter, house). If I only knew then what I know now... maybe the mansion is still to come?
17. You wore stonewashed jeans and were proud of it. Acid washed, and tight rolled. It doesn't get much better than that.
18. You remember Hypercolor t-shirts. Hah, these were only good until you washed them, right?
19. You remember the slap bracelet trend.
20. You ever owned a pair of jelly shoes. Jelly shoes briefly came back when I was in high school, and I rocked them then, too.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Too funny

Today I did a mediation training with a group of junior high school kids. There were about 28 girls and boys, and they ranged in age from 7th to 9th grade. I was teaching the kids how to be peer mediators.

I thought it would be nice to have some prizes and maybe do a raffle, so I searched the house high and low last night for things I could use. I had a great stash of stuff I've purchased for halfway boxes, so I went through and took some of the g-rated items, like miniature games, candy, magic 8 balls, etc. I also had a huge stash of unopened Bath & Body Works lotions, so I added a bunch of those to the donation pile.

I put it all into a big, deep tote bag, and when the kids won, I wouldn't let them see inside the bag. They just had to look away, reach in, and keep whatever they pulled out (although they could trade if they wanted). One 8th grade boy ended up with the BBW Vanilla Bean Noel lotion, and he moaned and complained about his prize. I told him then he could trade later on, and moved on to something else.

Within the next hour, the room reeked of vanilla. Why? The boys were slathering it all over themselves. One boy rubbed it in his hair! I even heard on of the guys say at one point "Real men can wear vanilla, right?"

LOL. They wouldn't let the girls near the lotion, either.

A Horror Movie Survival Guide

First of all, I want to thank everyone for their very thoughtful and uplifting comments to my last post. I don't really feel like talking about everything that is going on, but I'll update you more later, when things calm down a little. I want to give a public shout-out to my BFF Angel, who always knows what to say when I'm upset or in trouble. I may only see you once a year, and we may only talk sporadically, but you are always in my heart. Such true friendships are rare, and I value ours more than you know.

Ok! Moving on....

So it's that time of year... when the horror movie genre seems to explode with new, vicious offerings. Now, I love me a good horror movie. I do not like movies with an excess of blood and gore (Hostel) but I do enjoy the occasional slasher flick, even if I do spend most of the movie with my hand over my eyes. Jason is a huge Saw fan, so we will be going to see the most recent installment this weekend.

Which brings me to the list... A Horror Movie Survival Guide, if you will. I must share with you that I'm *that* person. You know, the person who keeps up a running commentary in the movie, the one in the movie theatre that you want to throw your popcorn at, the one that distracts you to the point that you spend more time and energy fuming over how you'd like to slap them than you do actually watching the movie. *That* person. You've all been around that person. This person sits in the movie shouting things like:

"Giiiiiiiiiirl, you better run! Run! He's coming, girl! Ruuuuuuuuuuuuun!"
"Don't go in there! ARE YOU CRAZY?! YOU NEVER GO IN THERE!"

I could provide more examples, but you know. YOU KNOW. Feel free to share your experiences in the comments section below.

Anyway, I digress. Here's the list... A Horror Movie Survival Guide:

1. Never check to see if the monster/bad guy/villain (which from now on will be referred to as "the big bad") is dead. Just assume it/he/she is, and shoot it a few more times for good measure.

2. Never go search the house to see what those weird noises or sounds are coming from. Never search, period.

3. Never go off alone. Pair up with someone slower and weaker. They'll get caught first.

4. If you are the clown, virgin, or token single guy/girl, your days are numbered. If you're really pretty, dumb, or a cheerleader or football player, you are probably a goner.

5. Never hang out in cemeteries after dark. In particular, don't stand beside open graves. Are you crazy? You're just asking for someone to push you in.

6. If your appliances start operating on their own, move. Immediately. You'll end up being burned to death in your shower by a vicious hot water heater.

7. When being chased by a big bad, it may appear that it is ambling along very slowly. Don't underestimate it's speed. I guarantee that you will trip several times, possibly spraining or breaking something, and it will catch up. It always does.

8. Don't drive through the desert or use back roads at night. For that matter, don't drive through those places, period. And if you break down or run out of gas, definitely don't stop at and ask for help at an old, deserted-looking house. Why would a deserted-looking house have a phone? Use your brain, people and GET A CELL PHONE.

9. Beware of power tools. Normal people generally don't carry around chain saws, knives, or torches on their person.

10. Listen for the music. It will get louder and faster... that's your clue that something big and bad is coming. Run.

11. If you do make it through the movie alive, don't do a sequel. Chances are slim you'll survive for a second time. Don't push your luck.

12. If you pick up the phone to call for help and the line is dead, get out of the house. Well, if you can. The killer is already in the house at that point. It's best to just find a weapon and fight. They're probably right behind you.

So, fellow horror movie enthusiasts, what should we add to the list? Leave a comment and weigh in!

I'm a cart stealer!

Are you familiar with the comedian Dane Cook? I'm not a fan of him as an actor (Employee of the Month, Good Luck Chuck) but I do think he's a brilliant comedian. One of his funniest bits is about "The Nothing Fight." If you've never heard it, click the link below. Be forewarned, he does use a lot of curse words and this is probably not safe for work if you don't have headphones.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=4-zQ2Iwsvm8

Anyway... I digress. If you listened to the clip above, at 3:36 Dane talks about the dangers of leaving your cart alone at the grocery store. This struck me as being very funny and appropriate. You see, last week I discovered that I am that person. Yes, I am the person who will steal your cart. I'm a cart stealer. Rather, I'm a stealer of the items in your cart. Beware!

I was at the commissary (the military grocery store) last week, doing a little bit of grocery shopping. I didn't have much on my list, so I sent Jason to Starbucks to get us some coffee, and I went on into the store to start on my shopping. On my way into the store, I noticed they had several bins filled with pumpkins for shopping. I went through the bins, looking for a small to medium sized pumpkin. I didn't want a whopping, 8 pound pumpkin. I wanted a small, 3-4 pumpkin that I could stick outside our door for a cheap yet creative Halloween decoration.

After searching the bins and finding nothing that fit my specifications, I made my way into the store. Just inside the door, off to the side, was a cart filled with about 5 small to medium sized pumpkins. There was nothing else in the cart, just pumpkins. Score! I took one perfect, beautiful pumpkin and added it to my cart.

I made my way down into the produce section, and about two minutes later, a very angry lady comes bearing down on me.

Angry lady: "You took my pumpkin!"
Me: "Excuse me?"
AL: "You took my pumpkin!"
Me: "That was your cart? I'm sorry, I thought that was just a cart of pumpkins."
AL: "NO, THAT WAS MY PUMPKIN!"
Me: "Um, ok. You can have it back. I just didn't realize it was your cart."
AL: "Well, I needed to go to the bathroom and I DIDN'T REALIZE SOMEONE WOULD TAKE MY PUMPKIN!"
Me: "Well, I'm sorry. I didn't know."
AL: (stomps off in a huff, but continues to stop her cart and give me the death ray look with her eyes as she passes me while throughout the store)

Now, in my defense, there was a cart of store returns sitting beside the pumpkins, and another cart full of clearance items beside that. I wasn't being rude or malicious. And seriously, is it that big of a deal? Can't you go pick out another pumpkin? Geez.

So what do you think, readers? Was this a simple mistake or an etiquette breach of the worst kind? Will I wake to find my door smeared with rotten pumpkin after Halloween? Am I doomed to a lifetime of avoiding the Angry Lady whenever I pass her on base?

Note to self: always assume that all carts, even when marked with "Clearance" or "Returns" belong to someone else. That way you will never encounter another Angry Lady, ticked off that you stole her personal grocery paraphernalia.

The results are in...

A few weeks ago, I went to the doctor to get a female exam. At the Bangor base clinic, they give you a little postcard and ask you to self-address it, and they mail you your pap results when they are in. Well, I got the postcard back, but it was completely blank, no results whatsoever.

I called today and spoke with a nurse, who told me a doctor would call me back shortly. Our conversation went as follows:

Doctor: "Good news, ma'am! You don't have gonorrhea or chlamydia!"
Me: "Um..... thank you?"
Doctor: "Oh, and your pap came back fine. Have a good day."

So I guess there is something to celebrate today after all. :)