You found me how?

I'm very amateur at stat tracking on my blog.  I have a little ticker thing that you've probably noticed on the right-hand sidebar but I really don't pay much attention to it.  I also attempt to make sense of the stat tracker tied to blogger but all it does it confuse the hell out of me.  One thing I love checking periodically though, is the Traffic Source page.  I'm always curious as to how people stumble across my little blog and I find it hilarious to see what they've typed into search engines to find themselves here.

Most common are:

• Carolyn Purnomo blog
• seriously yes blog (and similar)

And since this blog has more or less turned into a pregnancy blog lately, I've seen quite a few pregnancy-related searches:

• 19 weeks and cannot bend over
• blog v-day baby
• twins belly
• 14 weeks and showing a lot
• outie (I can only assume this is referring to belly buttons)
• how to make teacup diaper cake (shower related, I assume)
• maternity clothes office
• I could've sworn I saw the faintest blue line in the pregnancy window but it's way too early (seriously, who types THAT much into a search engine??)
• 25 weeks boobs
• pants unbuttoned (I obviously talked about unbuttoning my pants a bit too much)
• how far along would I be if my fetus is 6.2cm (who asks this stuff?)

And my personal favorite pregnancy-related search:

• belly booty party business pic pregnant (Am I the only one confused?  And I seriously wish I knew how to see which page of my blog that took them to.)

Home decor-related searches:

• best taupe paint
• black and white striped bathroom
• images of lime green dresser

Apparently I talk about alcohol too much:

• bar party glassware
• steamer bar cabinet
• Cristal bubbly
• celebrity bottle champagne posing (another baffling one)

Completely random:

• Dirty Dancing Lake George (has to be referring to my Sagamore posts)
• pouring half moon concrete foundation (what?)
• pulled a muscle blowing nose (yes, yes I did this... if you recall, I wrote an entire post about it)

And drumroll please, for the absolute best, that just appeared within the last week.  I can only imagine how this brought someone to my blog:

• can't get enough jalapenos and I keep peeing every two hours (this right here, folks, is my life in a nutshell.  haha!)

Last week in pictures. And a few words.

I spent a week (8 days actually) all alone last week while my wine-loving husband sipped vino in the Pacific Northwest at Oregon Pinot (yes, as in noir) Camp.

This was the longest we've spent apart since the days of the long-distance thing we did between St. Louis and Albany until I moved back to NY in 2007.

Before he left I kept wondering what the hell I would possibly do to keep myself from going out of my mind with boredom.

In the end, I ended up cramming so much stuff into my week that it kinda flew by.

I worked longer days, went to dinner with girlfriends and planned a few projects.

First up: Project Paint The Nursery.

I got it done in a surprisingly short amount of time but can I tell you?  Hopping up and down off of a ladder and squatting repeatedly at almost 6 months pregnant SUCKS.  I literally hurt everywhere at the end of the day.

Here's a picture of the nursery in progress, currently staged as a guest room, although the curtains, area rug (yes, I'm aware that we're insane to attempt to keep a white rug white with an infant) and giant bear will stay.

And since I take terrible pictures, below is the actual color... it's a nice, soft gray with a hint of taupe.  As husband Brad Pitt said, "they say taupe is very soothing".  Two cookies to whoever can tell me which movie that quote came from.

While the painting was happening inside, the following nightmare was occurring outside.  To prep for our pending renovation, we had to remove a rather large tree that sits smack dab (that is the strangest saying) in the middle of where our new master suite will be.  And we figured that while the tree guys were there, we'd take advantage of it and have them remove several others.  

That resulted in a bucket truck, some sort of dump truck with a claw (that's a technical term, right?) and a chipper parked in my lawn for most of the day.  And did I mention the constant noise?  Not from the trucks.  From the dogs.  Who barked their little heads off each time they saw one of the guys walk past a window or heard a piece of trunk fall to the ground.

At least now we're ready for construction to start :)

On Sunday I attended a good friend's bridal shower.  It was a gorgeous June day and the shower was held in a really pretty tent at a golf course in Saratoga.  It was one of the classier showers I've been to.  (Mine aside.  Duh.)  Except maybe for the panty-line.  Anyone ever seen one of these?  It was cute.  And included panties to wear throughout a marriage... from a lacy thong for the wedding night to everyday hipsters to granny panties.

And let's not forget the dessert station.  This pregnant girl had no shame and loaded up.

Project #2: Home Renovation

We've been planning this renovation for months now and since we're quickly running out of time, I spent the better part of the week researching property setbacks, visiting the town and county in search of an original survey and emailing ideas back and forth with our architect.  This process is far from stress-free but will be so worth it in the end.

Since our house is currently a (teeny) standard 50s ranch with  1,250 square feet, 3 bedrooms and only 1 bath, we knew something would have to change before this child arrived.  So we're adding a master suite with huge walk-in-closet and full bath, a breakfast room, powder room and main floor laundry (quite possibly my favorite feature) as well as expanding our living room by pulling it out onto our existing front porch.  We're also expanding our pantry by turning it into a walk-in versus the tiny reach-in we have now and turning our current master into an open sitting room/play room.

After all of my research gave me the proof  I needed to prove our architect wrong on minimum side yard setbacks, we're moving forward with the plan below.  Now we're just waiting for him to submit the plans to the town for approval and permits.  Once those are in place we'll be ready to excavate, hopefully sometime mid-July, turning our little L-shaped ranch into a giant box.

And I know we're insane but we're really aiming to have this all complete before BB's arrival in October.

Pray for me.

Aside from the boring part of a remodel, I've been having fun picking out new furniture, fixtures, paint colors, flooring and designing our walk-in-closet.  Isn't this lovely?  Look at all of that glorious shoe storage.  Too bad I have to share with husband ;)

I should probably start to plan my weeks out like this more often.  I felt so accomplished by the time Nick got home late Wednesday night.  But we all know me, right?  Lazy procrastinator extraordinaire.  And proud of it :)

The day I pulled a muscle blowing my nose.

Isn't that a lovely title for my 100th post?

100.  100!  Let's see... accomplishment or failure?  Accomplishment as in I've actually written 100 posts.  Failure as in it's taken over a year and I still have next to no readers.  Oh well. 

Back to the topic at hand. 

I really wish I was making this up.  I seriously pulled (strained?) a stomach muscle yesterday during a violent coughing, nose blowing extravaganza.  I walked around most of the evening holding my side.  And you know how when it hurts to laugh, all you want to do is laugh?  Yeah.  That happened.  Thankfully it doesn't hurt nearly as bad today. 

And ooh!  Today!  Boot camp started again today.  Much to husband's chagrin.  I compromised though... I'm only going to be going once a week this session.  Hopefully it will be enough to make my soft parts hard again (take that however you'd like) and motivate me to get to spin class and/or the gym two or three times a week.  I need to sign up for a few races.  That should get me moving.  I like having a goal... working out for the sole purpose of working out doesn't do it for me.  Knowing I could embarrass myself at a race I haven't prepared for?  All the motivation I need.

How's that for a completely random and utterly pointless 100th post?

ha.

Shellac me.

I know, I know.  Close up hand pictures are gross.  And seriously?  When did my middle finger's middle knuckle get so damn big?  And wow, my index finger is totally curved.  The cut on my pinky?  Spaghetti squash carving incident.

Moving on.

I got a manicure the other day.  This is not a routine thing for me.  My friends will tell you that there isn't much more that I hate in the world than wasting money on a manicure only to have it chip in mere days.

This one is different though.  ::crosses fingers and prays to the nail gods::

It's called a Shellac manicure.  Apparently it's like a gel polish.  Or something.  And you stick your hands in a UV light emitting thing in between coats.  Supposedly it lasts up to 2 weeks. 

Check back with me upon my return from Napa and we'll see what state my nails are in.  K?  Thx.

I have upgraded.

This post should really be titled "NEW CAR NEW CAR NEW CAR NEW CAR NEW CAR!!!!!!!!!"

'Cause I'm feeling a little happy.

Ok.  Deliriously happy is more like it.

But a little sad at the same time.

Like previously mentioned, I get attached to things.  My car is one of them.   

Here I am, looking like a tool, showing off my beloved, elderly Jeep, in my not so pretty garage. 

This Jeep took me through my twenties.  Literally.  I bought it at age 20, sold it at age 30.  This car and I have seen a lot together.  It made the trip between Cape Girardeau and St. Louis (during my college years) too many times to count, gave me a warm, comfortable place to nap when I found myself at work a whole 8 minutes early, nursed itself back to health after being involved in not one, but three accidents, none of which were my fault, held me together during my excruciating 30+ mile bumper to bumper commutes to various communities during my McBride days, and most importantly, made the 1,000 mile journey with ease, moving me, my dogs and my life from St. Louis to Albany. 

As much as I bitched and moaned about how shitty my car was, I loved it.  We have memories, people!  Is that ridiculous?

Anyway.

Remember this post? 

I finally got my wish. 

This lovely now belongs to me.  So pretty I can't stand it.

  

And one more time, for comparison's sake...

DINGY AND OLD

SHINY AND NEW



My husband spoils me.  Although I really think he was just sick of me stealing his car all the time ;)

Whatever works, people, whatever works. 

*And Jeep Peeps, you really should be thanking us for our devotion... we're on #5.  We may have a problem.

 

Non-blogger of the year.

If there was an award for lack of posting, I'd easily win.

I've been terrible with the posts lately. I have quite a few things I'd like to ramble on about but truly just haven't felt like it. There have been far more important things to keep me occupied lately.

Like eating.

Apparently Miles gave daddy "money" for Mother's Day to buy me something. Not Bella and Miles. Just Miles. According to daddy, Bella is a bad little girl and didn't think I should get a Mother's Day gift. He's funny, isn't he? Hopefully he doesn't play games like this when we have actual children ;)

Anyway, "Miles" gave me a shiny box of Jelly Belly jellybeans. MY. FAV. Pick a night from the past week. Any night. I can guarantee you would've found me on my couch in my fun (i.e. stretchy) pants with the box of Jelly Bellys next to me and the computer open on my lap looking up Jelly Belly recipes. Yes, I am a dork. But did you know that if you combine a Chocolate Pudding JB and a Very Cherry JB is tastes JUST like a chocolate covered cherry??? I found it more than amusing to try different combos until I wanted to explode.

I've also been a little more than busy with work lately.

Good excuse for the lack of posting, right? At least I'm doing something productive and making money, right? Eh.

Work gets in the way of everything fun. I'd really prefer to win the lottery.

So. Posting.

Like I said earlier, I do have quite a few things to tickle your brain with. Let's see how many I can get through in the next two weeks. Who wants to set the over-under?

A little preview...

1. The brother's wedding
2. Lots of home improvements
3. The countdown to my first ever road race. i.e. the day I might possibly die.
4. A new recipe or two

Please don't hold your breath for these posts. I wouldn't want to be held responsible for your demise.

Change and Tofu.

Change.

So you may have noticed that my blog template looks a little different. Squeeeee!!! Blogger finally decided to come out with new templates and more options for the HTML-challenged. Like me.

It kinda reminds me of the old myspace days. Mywhat? I know, you're thinking "Gawd... that was like social networking in it's infancy." I haven't touched my myspace page in ages but one of the things I remember (and liked) most about it was that I could easily change my profile background.

And I did.

Constantly.

So you should probably expect to see that here too. I get bored easily.

Anyway. Hope you like. We'll live with the flowers for awhile and see where it takes us. Feel free to comment on this or any future template changes. Comments make me happy.

*********************

Tofu.

I love tofu. And not in a weird "I eat it because I'm a vegetarian and OMG would never be caught dead eating an ANIMAL" kinda way. I eat meat occaisonally, I just prefer things like vegetables, tofu and pasta.

Although I love it and have eaten it in restaurants plenty of times, I've never actually cooked a meal with it. Last night became the time to experiment. And it was an amazing success. I can't wait to make it for dinner again tonight.

I found the recipe on myrecipes.com.

Soy Glazed Tofu

My version

Mine doesn't look as pretty but I'm willing to bet my first born that it tasted better. Because Mmmm. And I'm awesome.

I used rice noodles instead of the thicker asian noodles that are pictured and they were a great addition to the plate. I'm sure you could use any starch you'd like. Rice, glass noodles, etc. I also went a little heavier on the glaze because I'm sau-cy.

So. Super easy to make. Delish. Healthy. Go make it. Now. Thank me later.

I can explain, Officer...

So. After nearly 3 years of living in NY, it finally happened. They caught me.

After deciding to NOT go to the mall after work on Tuesday, I head home, taking my normal route while singing incredibly off-key to some horrible song on the radio. About halfway home, I see a small checkpoint with three cops stopping traffic going both directions. I was the fifth car in line so I'm watching as the cars ahead of me get stopped. The cop looks through the windshields and lets them all go.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking "Ooh, what's going on? There must've been a kidnapping or prison break or something!" I seriously thought they were looking in the cars for someone in particular. And obviously I'm home free because I'm harboring no fugitives or small children (to my knowledge) in the back of my car.

If only I was right. Or harboring a fugitive.

Apparently this stupid state sets up checkpoints to check inspection stickers.

Now here's where my ignorance comes into play. In NY, when you register your car, they give you two stickers to put on your windshield. One is for your inspection, the other for the registration. The registration sticker is big and has a HUGE, obvious date stamped on it. 4/10, in my case. So I'm good right for another month, right?

Nope.

Apparently my inspection sticker has a different date on it. 3/09 to be exact. Oops. In my defense, you can BARELY read the date on that sticker. And I seriously didn't notice that it had expired until about a month ago. And at that point I was like "well, I've made it this far, I might as well see how much longer I can go."

Stupid, stupid girl. This is what you get for f-ing with the law!

So I pull up to the checkpoint, the officer looks through my windshield and waves me on. At least that's what I thought. I start to pull away when he yells something and throws his hands up. Great, now he thinks I was trying to leave the scene of a crime(?) or whatever.

I roll down my window (thank GOD I wasn't on the phone and miraculously had my seatbelt on) and he asks me what's up with my inspection sticker.

"What are you talking about, Officer? It expires in April." See, I'm playing dumb. I could be an actress.

Then he explains that no, that's your registration...

Yeah, yeah, yeah. And I'm still thinking I can fool him into thinking I really am an idiot and didn't know any better. So I get all upset and explain to him that I'm from out of state and the last state that I lived in had different rules. In that fine state, your inspection and registration expire at the SAME TIME! Imagine that. Makes sense, right Mr. Officer?

No dice.

"Please pull over there in front of my police car."

DAMMIT!!!!

Here come the tears. I truly cannot help it. When confronted, yelled at, belittled, etc, etc, etc, I cry. That's what I do.

And apparently (I think I've used that word a few too many times for one post) he didn't believe my crap acting anyway. (Probably because I was a bumbling, nervous idiot, tripping over my words... so much for my top notch acting skills.) He came over, took my license, insurance card and registration. Now I'm sweating. Not that there's anything for him to find but my driver's license has my current last name, my insurance card has the ex-husband's last name and my car is registered in my maiden name. He's probably gonna be all confused and write me another ticket just because I don't have my shit straight. Oy.

Long story, well, long... he gave me a ticket because "this is your car and even if you say you weren't aware of the rules, you should've been. Any questions? Good." And he walked off. No "have a nice night" or anything. The makeup running down my face probably scared him.

So. I have a court date in a few weeks. Joy. Think I can plead my ignorance to the judge? ha.

I knew I should've gone to the mall.

**********************

I'm heading to Chicago this afternoon for my future sister-in-law's bachelorette party so there will be no posting til I return on Monday. Don't cry, you can make it a few days without my wit, right? ;)

Finding purpose?

It seems that this, in fact, may be the case.

Lest my blog become any more self-serving, conceited, self-promoting, or however you want to spin it, I'm putting this out there right now:

I'm going to continue writing this blog the way I do (i.e. about ME!) for, um, me. I mean, most people's blogs are about themselves, right? But like previously discussed, most also have a theme, if you will. Mine, not so much.

So to avoid all the "God, this girl's full of herself" and "really, more pictures of her?" mantras rolling around in my (few) readers' heads, know this: I'm enjoying the whole blog thing and can't wait to look back at it in 5, 10 or 20 years and remember.

'Cause seriously, we should all have something to embarrass our future children with, right?

So there you have it. Think of it as a photo album/journal of sorts. Which is probably the definition of the word blog. Go figure. SMRT!

*************************

So now that that's out of the way and you're no longer allowed to yell at me for talking about myself, please enjoy the second installation of "New York's Newest Supermodel".

Once again, I started hearing "I saw your face in a magazine" from random people.

Um, what?? To steal a quote from the husband, "As long as it's not the police blotter, that's fine with me!" He's full of the quippy one-liners, that husband of mine.

The Spirit of Saratoga, which is a publication put out by the Saratogian, did a fantastic article on the ever-fabulous Alayne of Make Me Fabulous. Alayne is the makeup artist who prettied me up for The Wedding of the century. And accompanying the article is a picture of ME!

Now is where I should clarify. The photo is actually a shot of Alayne doing my makeup at The Wedding. Alas, it's not technically a pic of yours truly. Nor did my name appear in the article. But the side of my face does look pretty nice!

So nice of them to use my good side ;)

Purpose.

Apparently there isn't one behind this blog. It's just a random bunch of crap. But since it's all about me, it's obviously fantastic.

Seriously though... there's no actual point behind my ramblings. I read so many blogs that fall into a category... design blogs, mom blogs (don't get any ideas), architecture blogs, fashion blogs, etc. If I had to pick a category for mine, I'd pick, um, general? Pretty boring, right? But honestly, I enjoy reading mind-numbingly pointless blogs about other people's lives. I guess you could consider me a bit of a voyeur.

Scratch that.

You can definitely consider me a voyeur. The husband will tell you I have a problem with peering into people's homes at night when the blinds are open. I can't help it... I like to see how others live. Is their house prettier than mine? Are they having more fun than me? What are they having for dinner? Etc, etc, etc.

Maybe I should get professional help. I obviously have issues.

So on that note, please enjoy another perfectly pointless blog about ME!

My week in review:

20s themed wine dinner. I think I may have gone slightly overboard. What a cool freaking decade though... I would've loved dressing up this much to go out. Too bad I was born 60 years too late. I mean, c'mon... who doesn't love an excuse to wear feathers in their hair?! Anyway, the dinner was lovely. Well, the wine was anyway. I don't really recall the food.

Please don't laugh.

Here I am with my lovely friend Andrea. See, she likes feathers too!

Hangover. Wine dinners really should not be planned for Sunday nights. Makes for hell at the office on Monday.

Laundry. So much fun that I've dragged it out over 4 days.

SNOW!!! The husband is going to kill me if I tell him one more time how much I love it. (Let's keep in mind that I don't shovel.) Or if I cry in jealousy one more time about all the snow the rest of the country's getting. We're seriously slacking in the snowfall department this winter. Did the weather gods forget that this is, in fact, upstate New York? Where it's SUPPOSED to snow. That's part of the fun of living here! If I wanted icky, rainy, brown winters, I would've stayed in St. Louis. (Well, probably not. The husband is here. I kinda like to be where he is. Go figure.)

Anyway. We actually got a teeny-tiny-piss-poor-little excuse for a snow storm this week. Then it rained for 2 days straight. Nice try, weather gods, nice try. Next time, bring it on. I want a blizzard. Just please don't knock my power out.

This is what I woke up to Wednesday morning. I drove to work with a big, giant happy face :))))))))

Reason #6,482 for my love of snow. It makes the shabby exterior of my house look kinda pretty! (Pay no attention to the Christmas lights still wrapped around the light post. They'll come down in July or so.)

Wine. Need I say more? I thoroughly enjoyed a lovely bottle of malbec all by myself the other night, while making (for the first time) homemade jalapeno poppers. Which were fantastic. And incredibly easy. If you're lucky, I'll make them for you sometime. If you bring wine. Preferably riesling.

Great news from a great friend. That's all.

Shopping. It hasn't happened yet, but I have a date with the mall tonight. I hope to God all the annoying teenagers stay home. Or out of my way.

And just for fun. Miles and Bella. Because cute.

What I learned in school today.

GINORMOUS is officially a word. A word that I happen to love. Apparently enough people have been using it to warrant it's inclusion by Webster. In case you're wondering, here's the official definition:

Main Entry: gi·nor·mous
Pronunciation: \jī-ˈnȯr-məs\
Function: adjective
Etymology: gigantic + enormous
: extremely large : humongous

Um, duh.

And here's what pops up when you google-image 'ginormous'. Well, after you make your way past all the ginourmous sets of boobies. Ew.

Anyway, that made my day. It's the small things in life, people.

Let's talk cars.

So I found out through facebook* on Monday morning that the husband was car shopping. While I was at work. Not shopping. So I made a phone call.

Wife-piece: "So did you buy a car?"

The Husband: "Yup."

WP: "Really? That quick???"

TH: "Yup."

WP: "No, you didn't."

TH: "Yes, I did."

WP: "SERIOUSLY??!!!"

TH: "Yup."

Enter extreme jealousy.

Yes, I'm happy for him, but, (in my 4-year old temper tantrum voice) NOT FAIR!! I WANT A NEW CAR!!! And he didn't just buy any car. He bought the EXACT** car I want. And have wanted. For years.

JEA-LOUS.

To be fair, the purchase was warranted. His car basically shit the bed over the past month. And his driver's seat started smoking while he was driving the other night. Literally. Smoke was coming up between his legs. Explain that one.

At least I'll get to drive it occassionally. And have something respectable to use should the need arise for clients to be in my car.

New car is pretty. Very pretty. And loaded with lots of things I know nothing about.



Now husband gets to parade around town, looking all smug in this gorgeous Grand Cherokee***, while I'm shamefully hiding behind my sunglasses in my heap.

This one actually looks pretty. Mine does not. Although mine has lots of nice accessories. Like door dings, scratches, peeling paint, so-foggy-they-do-almost-no-good headlight covers, rust and the ever-stylish giant-ass dent from that time I drove into an unsuspecting mailbox.

My car is old. Well past middle age, slowly nearing death. Getting slightly senile. If I just let it go, it would drive around in circles. Although I can't justifiably blame that on old age. I should probably make a visit to the car doctor to have the alignment, um, realigned.

The inside is a sight. I take such pride in my vehicle that I've opted to turn the backseat into a trash dump. Literally. I have a fullsized garbage bag in the backseat for all the crap I accumulate. And it's full. I haven't cleaned my car out in ages. Since probably the summer.

And today I had a moment of sheer terror at Panera Bread while the overly-cheery counter girl was helping me out with my catering order. I was not expecting this, so I didn't appropriately prep my car. As we're nearing the rear of my vehicle, I'm scrambling to decide which door to open, while she's going on and on about how much she likes my boots (they are pretty fabulous, duh).

Options:

• Backseat? We already know that's out.
• Front passenger seat? Might work. Except for the idiot who parked waytooclose to me. Not enough room to open the door.
• Front driver's seat? Maybe I can get in and have her pile the boxes on my lap. Scratch that. Don't want to be known as the crazy-box-lady at a restaurant I frequent.

So, trunk it is. Oh my God, please please please don't let there be anything embarassing back there. I haven't opened my trunk in weeks. God knows what could be growing in there. PANIC.

Sigh...

False alarm. Nothing in the back except for one random leopard print pump (I've been looking for that) and an umbrella. Crisis averted. Cheery girl leaves, I go back to work. Maybe I should clean out my car.

*Not entirely true. He said the night before that he might go. I, however, found it ironic to find out through fb rather than a phone call. Whatever. Won't kill husband.
**Not entirely true either. I prefer white. Or black. I like to keep it classy.
*** We might need a Jeep intervention. I'm driving an '01, he just traded in an '04 for the new one and he used to own an older one. On second thought, Jeep should be paying us for our loyalty****.
****Please forward post to Jeep top-dogs.

I'm having a hair crisis.

My wonderfully-talented-amazing-no-one-else-is-allowed-to-touch-my-hair hairstylist is out of commission for a few weeks. And I need a haircut. Desperately.

I knew this was coming. She told me the last time I was in. In early December. I'm not one of those come-in-for-a-trim-every-6-weeks kinda girls. I'd rather wait until my hair is a disgusting, grown-out mess with absolutely no shape to make my appt.

So I called the salon for an appt this morning. For tonight. I like to plan things in advance. No such luck. And I'm busy each subsequent night this week. And then she's gone.

Seriously. I don't think I can wait. I'm gonna start to lose my "my haircut is better than yours so therefore I'm better than you" attitude* if this goes on much longer. But I can't let someone else cut it. It took me years to fall in love with a hairstylist. Going to somebody else would be like cheating. I guess I can sacrifice my vanity and endure a few more split ends for love.

*These are thoughts I normally (and probably should) keep to myself. But oversharing with the internet is completely acceptable.

Super Bowl and Stomach Flu.

Let me start off by saying that I LOATHE the game of football. I turn into a temper-tantrum-throwing, whiny baby when the husband makes me watch it. I just don't get the game... what's so fun about hurling yourself full-speed into another human being? And the idea of being at the bottom of that tackle pile terrifies me. It seems so pointlessly violent. Although I did say recently that I would love the opportunity to punch somebody in the face. Just once.

I digress.

About a week and a half before the Super Bowl, the husband came to me with the idea of a party in the all-so-important game's honor. I agreed. With the condition that I could consume as much alcohol as I pleased. He obliged and invited a few of his friends.

Then I got excited. Super Bowl or no Super Bowl, we're having a par-tay!

I even brought out the Martha Stuart in me and made some semi-cute football cupcakes. (Hey, I didn't work in the Schnucks bakery for 5 years in high school and college for nothing!) Although I will admit that I did have go online to find out the Super Bowl number (44, for the other non-watchers out there) and to make sure I put the proper lines on the footballs.

Did I make Martha proud?

The spread. We planned a pretty simple menu, keeping the football theme in mind. Garlic-buffalo wings, corn dip, buffalo chicken sliders... Think bar food.

Our fantastic guests also generously brought the following:

• buffalo chicken dip
• taco dip
• soft pretzels sticks w/ mustard
• more taco dip
• garbage bread

Have you noticed the buffalo theme? This was not intended, but worked out. Who doesn't like buffalo sauce and chicken? That's right. Nobody.

The party went off without a hitch, I drank plenty of wine, ate a ton of buffalo-flavored food, didn't watch one minute of the game (except for commercials) and everyone went home happy and left us to our mess at a decent hour.

Instead of doing the smart thing and cleaning up the mess, we did the comfortable thing and laid on the couch crying over our over-stuffed bellies for the rest of the night. I was in rough shape. I really overdid it with the eating this time. Wishing away my crampy stomach didn't work, so I went to bed.

An hour later I woke up. And RAN to the bathroom. Remember all that buffalo stuff I ate? Apparently seeing it once wasn't enough. I'll spare you the details, but I was hung over the toilet for way longer than necessary. I mean, c'mon, isn't once enough? Making me repeatedly go through that horrible I-can't-breathe-because-liquid-is-coming-out-of-my-nose thing is pure torture. Don't the vomit Gods know that my worst fear is drowning? Especially in my own bodily fluids.

It went on forever. The husband said "I've never seen so much puke come out of one small person" as I was practically dying. Thank you, me neither. He was great though. He cleaned up my mess (I was far more concerned with getting the crap out of my body than I was with making the bowl) which was everywhere. Even on the dogs. Don't ask. So much for sparing you the details.

The only positive that came out of the situation was that I finally got the husband back for the time he spewed dinner all over a pristine, all white hotel bathroom after a few too many after dinner cocktails a few years ago. Not that I'm keeping score ;)

After I was done and the room was clean, my wonderful husband got me back into bed with a glass of juice.

Then he offered me a buffalo chicken slider.

Funny, funny guy.

Our Itatian Vacation

So the husband and I are in Italy, staying at this fantastic house near the coast. It's the last day of the first leg of our trip.

After packing our bags and saying goodbye to our temporary home, we walk out the door to head to the port to board a cruiseship for part two of our vacation. Then husband has to go to the bathroom. Back inside we go. Do all men take this long to, um, go?

Now we're running late. I'm freaking out. The ship's gonna leave without us!

We finally make it to the ship and board. They ask for IDs and boarding passes. I can't find my freaking ID. Typical. Then I realize I left it at the house we just left. They won't let us on the ship. I start crying.

Then I wake up.

I f-ing hate my dreams. Are yours this vivid?

I need opinions, people!

So I had headshots done today for my new career in modeling business cards and website. Once again, my photographer worked his magic, giving me way too many great pics to choose from. As someone who is hyper-critical of how she photographs, that's saying a lot ;)

I managed to narrow the choices for cards and website down to 3 each. Now I need your help to pick the winner in each category. And pick a good one. Don't forget how much I hate my current professional pic. We don't wanna go down that road again...

Let's start with the choices for my business cards:

Now onto the choices for my website.

Call them 1, 2 and 3 in each category. Humor me... tell me what you think. (And feel free to be brutal... I can take it) Please. And thank you.

Poor Brittany.

Disclaimer: I promise not to turn this blog all TMZ-like. Just wanted to say a few words about this lovely young actress's unfortunate end.

I'm really not one to care about, pay attention to or even discuss what goes on in the celebrity world, but did anyone see Brittany Murphy's mom on the Today Show this morning? Ugh. She was a hot mess.

Granted, her daughter died a month ago so she's allowed to be slightly out of sorts. But she was clearly on something -- lots of something -- during her interview this morning. And what got me was how adamantly she stated that Brittany's death had nothing to do with drugs. A little ironic, no? It was seriously one of those interviews that was painful to watch. Picture one of Anna Nicole Smith's famous "speeches" with the slurred speech and dazed look. That was Sharon Murphy this morning. If Brittany's husband wasn't there to interject and make sense of what she was saying, I would've turned the TV off.

Long digression. Onto my point:

Regardless of how Brittany died and of how embarrassing her mother was to watch on national TV today, I'll always hold a spot for her in my heart. And again, I'm one of the last people to ooh and aah over celebs, but this one touched me personally a long time ago.

1995 to be exact. The year I first saw the movie Clueless.

I loved Brittany's character so much in this movie and I completely related to her situation (grunge attire and all... it was the 90's, what did you expect?). At that exact time in my life, my parents were contemplating a move. Not just a move to a new house across town -- a big, life-altering, scary move across the country. My father was considering two new jobs. One in St. Louis, one in Los Angeles.

As a shy, ugly-duckling of a 15 year old (with no fashion sense, mind you), the thought of moving from a small town in upstate New York to Los Angeles TERRIFED me. Then I saw Clueless. If Tai could do it, so could I. I dreamed of having my own Cher, complete with automated closet and hot older step-brother, to make me over and turn me into the most popular girl in the school. A girl can dream, can't she?

Back in reality, we ended up moving to St. Louis... a decision I'm SO thankful for. I really don't think I would've acclimated to the LA lifestyle as gracefully as Tai.

Long story short, thanks for making that movie, Brittany. It helped me get through some of those awful teenage years. Hope you're resting peacefully up above.