27 January 2009

While I Was Out...

Mood: Stressed (Back at work after two weeks of jury duty and my 'to do' list is so long that I actually miss being crammed into a tiny, freezing jury room).

What I'm listening to: Black Velvet (This song always makes me wish I had a stripper pole)

Obviously it's been a few days since my last blog entry. This is mostly owing to the fact that I was performing my civic duty but now I'm back in the land of the living and hopefully my name will get pushed down to the bottom of the jury pool, never again to see the light of day!

What I missed while I was in jury land (that magical place of tepid water, freezing rooms, drafty windows, uncomfortable chairs and cranky lawyers):

1. The Presidential Inauguration: We have a new president!!! I tried to set our DVD recorder to record the festivities whilst I was stuck trying to decide if person A had stolen (with intent to deprive permanently) $1200 from person B (he did). Unfortunately, in the myriad of boxes, remotes, channels and buttons I managed to record 3 uninterrupted hours of static with only the vaguest hint of what might have been the audio feed. *sigh* Obviously President Obama is not going to be appointing me as chief button pusher at NASA anytime soon.

2. The Cold Snap: Exactly how cold is it when it's - 50° (with wind chill... - 28° ambient air)?? Does it really matter? Isn't like of like trying to explain $1 trillion dollars?? It's just too big for the human mind to fully grasp. When the insides of my nostrils were burning, my eyes streaming tears and my hands rendered completely useless after a mere 3 minutes of being outside, I knew it was bad; but, when I left the courthouse one afternoon and had to spend 10 minutes scraping the windows on the INSIDE of my car, I fully understood that -50° is FREAKING cold (and that living anywhere in Canada, Alaska or Minnesota will never be an option for my wimpy, freezing butt!).

3. Gov. Rod Blagojevich:

Obama Pictures and McCain Pictures
see Sarah Palin pictures

Really, need I say more on this subject??

13 January 2009

It's Definitely NOT Night Court!

Mood: Worried (baby Miley is back in the hospital again).

What I'm watching: Sabrina the Teenage Witch (Wouldn't it be nice to just point your finger and fix everything?)

Today is just a mini-blog because, at some point soon, I actually need to dislodge my backside from the couch and do the essentials (hair, make-up, etc.).

So, yesterday I served my very first day of jury duty and here are some things that I learned on day one:

1. Sitting around all day in a courtroom can be exhausting.

2. You can log quite a few miles of walking being shuffled in and out of the courtroom.

3. Awkward silences in a group of 14 strangers stuffed into a tiny jury room can get even more awkward when your stomach is growling.

4. All of my court room references come from Night Court. I spent half the morning figuring out who everyone in the courtroom was by assigning them Night Court Character names.

5. Lawyers are not as good looking as they are on television.

6. Most cases are not nearly as interesting as the cases in the movies.

7. Going over hours of evidence and testimony is, for the most part, so boring that you actually start to entertain the notion of poking your own eyes out just for the sheer entertainment value.

8. At least one full year of law school must be devoted to teaching aspiring lawyers how to say the same thing/ask the same question a million times in a million different ways. After the lawyer has asked virtually the same question 10 times in a row you begin to question both his intelligence and his sanity.

9. BONUS: The county actually paid for our lunches since we were sitting on an active jury!

10 January 2009

Can I Go to Betty Ford to Kick my Root Beer Habit?

Mood: Confused - Sparky and I have spent the last week trying to decide whether we should buy an elliptical or a treadmill

What I'm Watching: Unwrapped (on the Food Network) - currently watching how they make Blow-pops...completely fascinating.

I've always thought of myself as a person without vices. I don't drink much (Sparky's office Christmas party and New Year's Eve being the glaring exceptions but what's a girl to do when she's faced with a never ending river of fuzzy navels and amaretto sunrises?) , I don't smoke (yuck!), and I've never done illegal drugs (does anyone really want to end up looking like Nick Nolte's mug shot?) so you can imagine my surprise when I realized that I, too, have my very own monkey hanging on my back. It seems that while Nancy Reagan was warning us about the dangers of drug abuse, she should have added a little word of caution about the dangerously addictive properties of soda. That's right, soda. Pop. Coke. Pepsi. Rootbeer. For years I happily downed gallons of it's syrupy sweetness without realizing that someday I would regret my complete avarice.

After my humiliating defeat in the battle of the bathroom scale, I decided to make some small lifestyle changes and I figured that replacing my neverending supply of A&W Rootbeer with bottled water would be a good place to start. The first day was great. Oh sure, I really don't like water, but it's good for me and, as a bonus, completely void of calories which will certainly help me in a rematch against the scales, so I gamely drank a couple of bottles. The second day was 'okay' I drank a bottle of water and lusted after the sodas stacked in our fridge but by the third day I was into full on soda detox. I found myself wandering from soda cooler to soda cooler at the Wal-Mart checkout lanes. I pulled out soda after soda, from Big Red to Rootbeer to 7-up, hoping that one of them would have less than a million calories. My hands shook as I put bottle after bottle back, nevermind that I could practically taste the rich sugary goodness sliding down my throat, nevermind that I was craving the carbonated syrup in a way that is usually reserved for chocolate during PMS weeks, I knew I had to resist.

So far I've managed to be strong but I'm afraid that I might need professional help to kick the habit. I've got Betty Ford on speed dial just in case.

08 January 2009

Shouldn't There be a Test or Something?

Mood: Worried (My new neice, baby Miley, is only four days old and back in the hospital to treat a case of jaundice..I know she'll be fine but I'm worried just the same).

What I'm watching: George Lopez (Gotta Love George....I GOT THIS!)

Honestly, have we gotten to the point where we award a driver's license to anyone who actually manages to show up at the DMV with a pulse? In an effort to lower my bloodpressure and give the horn in my car a break (I'm too ladylike to use hand-gestures), I've generated the following rules for sharing the roadway with me:

1.) It's called a turn signal, it's not there for decoration so I suggest you learn to use it!

2.) If you are driving the wrong way down a one-way street (you know who you are), you do not get to stop your car and cuss me out for being in the "wrong" lane! Seriously, next time, I may be compelled to kick your hiney just on principle.

3.) Do Not ride my bumper. I can't stress this enough. Somedays I'm irritated enough with the world that I just might have to slam on my breaks and allow you to hit me. Remember, where I live it doesn't matter the reason, if you rear-end someone the accident is YOUR fault. I know from experience replacing my bumper costs in the neighborhood of $2,000. Oh, and if you think riding my bumper is going to make me go faster...it won't. In fact, when someone is riding my bumper, the craziest thing happens...I suddenly start driving like I'm 105 years old and can't find the gas peddle...I once made a guy follow me for 10 blocks at 4mph...don't test me!

4.) Do Not park so close to me that you need a can opener to get out of your vehicle because if you hit my car with your door because you were too stupid/drunk/blind or just plain ignorant to park your car in an appropriate manner, rest assured that I will hunt you down and make you pay for the damage. By the way, I also know from experience that re-painting my car door will run you somewhere in the neighborhood of $500.

5.) This one is for pedestrians but, since it pertains to driving as well, I thought I'd include it. Do Not walk right out in front of me and expect me to slam my breaks and come to a screeching halt just to avoid hitting you. My car is big and your bones are fragile...you do the math. Sure, most of the time I will stop because I like my car and I don't want blood stains on it. BUT. You just never know when I'll decide that running your stupid self over is a public service. Honestly, if you can't figure out that a huge metal object hurling at you going at least 30 MPH is something to be avoided, you shouldn't be allowed to contaminate the gene pool.

6.) If you are cruising the parking lot, looking for a place to park, you do not get to stop and block traffic for ten minutes while waiting for someone to unload their cart and vacate their parking space. First, someone like me is likely to come unglued and hurt you and second, it really will not hurt your couch potato backside to walk five more feet into the store.

7.) Pursuant to Rule 6. Should you decide to stop and block traffic for an extended period of time only to discover that you are much too close to the car in question to allow it to vacate the parking space you so ardently desire, Do Not expect me to back up and give you room. You can put your car in reverse, inch backwards, give me dirty looks and honk your horn all you want. I'm.not.moving! Not only will I not back up, but after you've been forced to move along and leave behind your "prime" parking spot, I will allow the car to vacate it's spot and will park in the coveted spot myself.

07 January 2009

Just How Much Do My Jeans Weigh?

Mood: Tired and Stressed

What I'm watching?: Are You Being Served? (Love the old British Comedies!)

That's right, it's time for the ultimate grudge match. In a fit of what can only be called post holiday depression looking for a kick down the stairs, my loving husband and I purchased a bathroom scale. Obviously we're both suffering from the temporary insanity that can only come after consuming a months worth of Christmas cookies and candies topped off by way too many fuzzy navels on New Year's Eve because otherwise why would two normal, rational people want to actually put a number on the damage that all that merry making has done to their waistlines?

We brought it home and left it in the package for the first 24 hours, both of us skirting around it and waiting for the other to mention the fact that we now own an instrument whose sole purpose is to tell us, in scientific terms, just how fat our asses really are. *See previous "temporary insanity" disclaimer.*

Finally Sparky decides that it's time to face down the beast so he pulls out the scale and sets it on the kitchen floor...seems fitting, returning to the scene of the crime to face our punishments. He stepped onto it with the confidence of a man who, while sporting a bit of a belly, is still, well, a man, and he can get away with sporting a bit of a middle age belly. He proudly announces his number which is about 50 lbs more than what he weighed about 4 years ago but he's not bothered, he just rubs his belly and affectionately dubs it his "food baby".

Then, it was my turn. *sigh* After much procrastinating and whining, I did step onto the scale and while I'm definitely NOT going to share my number...I don't have the same sense of pride in my "food baby" as my husband has in his...suffice it to say that I'm properly in shock and working my way into a good state of denial.

Just wondering...is it 100 lbs that one is supposed to deduct for clothing?? After all, it is winter and I was wearing a long sleeved shirt. *sigh*

02 January 2009

New Year, New Blog, Same Old Me...

So, here we are. The beginning of another fandamtastic new year. 2008 sucked like an industrial Hoover and I'd like to say that 2009 can only get better but seriously, I don't want to tempt fate like that...you know, just in case fate is sitting around still trying to work off a really bad left over New Year's Eve hangover and suddenly remembers that I'm uncoordinated and she just happens to have a spare banana peel laying around...yeah, don't want to go there.

Alright, so most people approach the beginning of a new year as though they've been handed a clean slate. THIS is the year I'm finally going to: write the great American novel, lose weight, exercise more, be kinder to people, be kinder to myself, quit smoking, quit cussing, quit my job, go back to school, stop watching so much tv, etc.

It's a nice idea, really, but let's face it, the calendar doesn't have anything to do with any of those things. The switching of the 2008 calendar to the 2009 calendar doesn't suddenly give any of us a miracle personality makeover. I was fundamentally lazy on Dec. 31, 2008 and I don't expect that on Jan. 1, 2009, I'm suddenly going to become a ball of energy and be able to exercise my fat arse into shape. I'm cranky, irritable and mostly annoyed by people and don't expect that the flip of a calendar page is going to turn me into a freaking Pollyanna.

So, with all that in mind, I am making resolutions that are more in keeping with the 'me' that I know I am and therefore are resolutions that I am likely to keep (setting yourself up for success is very good for the self-esteem!) :

1. I vow to try not to cuss out little old ladies when they're driving in front of me at 5 mph with their blinkers on for 10 blocks (at least not with the windows rolled down).

2. I vow to actually pry my lazy arse off the sofa once or twice an evening and going to the kitchen for a snack doesn't count (going to the bathroom though...well, that's all the way down the hall so I think that totally counts).

Uh, yeah, that's about it. See, totally do-able!