Friday, August 28, 2015

Hollywood hair magic. (This is NOT a beauty blog.)

Ya know how in the movies the main female character usually has a head full of long, lustrous hair? And when the romantic scene comes up she, or the hot dude love interest, pulls a single hair tie or pin out and her hair falls out immediately in a movement that looks like it came straight from a Pantene commercial? Well, that scene is Hollywood magic at its finest. I know from personal experience that it takes more than a single hair tie to hold up/back that much hair. And that single tie certainly doesn't slide out with a single gentle tug and a saucy pout. Oh no, that sucker holds on for dear life and doesn't detach itself without taking a handful of hairs as hostages and bringing out all the best profanities I know. 

Thursday, July 9, 2015

Random Thoughts Movie Review: Magic Mike XXL (SPOILERS)

A good friend turns 40 this month. We have decided to celebrate early and often. Part one of the birthday month celebrations was a GNO (Girls' Night Out) to see Magic Mike XXL. 

In my regular RTMRs, this would be where I discuss the length of the movie and give it an overall rating, but really, why bother? We went to have fun, and that's exactly what happened. We watched, we had some drinks, we catcalled the beautiful men on the screen. I might have said some really inappropriate things, which is what movies like this are for.

And so, without further ado, my random thoughts while watching Magic Mike XXL:

  • C-Tates is taking us to the gun show, baby!
  • Talk, talk, talk, blah, blah, blah
  • WTF?
  • Adam Rodriguez needs a haircut
  • Talk, talk, talk, blah, blah, blah
  • PONY!
  • NSFW
  • Talk, talk, talk, blah, blah, blah
  • Road trip!
  • FroYo?
  • Talk, talk, talk, blah, blah, blah
  • JOE MANGI-I-DON'T-ACTUALLY-KNOW-HOW-TO-PRONOUNCE-OR-SPELL-HIS-LAST-NAME-BUT-WHO-CARES!!!
  • NSFW
  • Mic drop. But with Cheetos. 
  • NSFW
  • Talk, talk, talk, blah, blah, blah
  • Jada Pinkett Smith is a tiny, but very intimidating, woman
  • MICHAEL STRAHAN!!
  • I'll never be able to take Michael Strahan seriously again
  • NSFW
  • He looks like C-Tates' brotha from anotha motha
  • Abs for days
  • Seriously, abtacular
  • #HisAbsHaveAbs
  • I ain't afraid'a no ghost
  • NSFW
  • NSFW
  • NSFW. SO VERY NSFW
  • Andie McDowell in Cougarville
  • I want to be like Andie's character when I grow up
  • Amber Heard's character looks and acts just like the girl in the last one
  • Elizabeth Banks! 
  • Their strip themes will mirror what they want most? Hmmm...could be interesting
  • Preparation montage. They should be playing Eye of the Tiger
  • NSFW
  • NSFW
  • HOLY HELLS BELLS! NSFW. I NEED A COLD SHOWER
  • This part reminds me of my 30th birthday party...
  • NSFW. NSFW. etc.....
  • That last routine would have killed me. And probably would have broken C-Tates' back.
  • NSFW
  • If they're all doing dances that reflect their goals/dreams, then one wants to be a painter, one wants be a singer, one wants to get married, one wants to make kinky FroYo and Mike just wants to clone himself?
  • NSFW
  • It's over already????
This movie isn't going to win any Oscars but it was definitely fun to watch. 

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Random Thoughts Movie Review: Terminator Genisys (SPOILERS)

This week's movie is Terminator Genisys. I saw it with a fellow nerdling, so we spent the previews firing off trivia at one another and the movie having those "look who it is!" moments when nerdcore actors would show up in the movie. Very rarely does anyone geek out on the same scale as me. It was like watching a movie from the mother ship.

Anyway....Terminator Genisys ran 122 minutes. That's a full two hours, folks. I guess I'm turning into a not-quite-minimalist when it comes to movie fight scenes and explosions. I don't want NO effects, but I DO want the effects to be used to the best effect. Does that make sense? Maybe I'm a minimal-maximumist. I want fights and explosions, just not to the point that they all run together. All of that to say, 122 minutes was alright for this one, but they could have knocked off 15 minutes and I would have still left happy. 

Ultimately, on a scale of A+ to F, I give it a B+. It would have been an A- if it had been 15 minutes shorter.

And here are my random thoughts while watching Terminator Genisys:


  • I hope we get a good explanation for Ah-nuld's grey hair that I saw in the trailers.
  • Golden Gate bridge. Annnnndddddd, it's gone. Why do movie directors always pick a landmark to destroy? 
  • Jason Clarke. How is he John Connor? Jason Clarke was born to play the bad guy. (Total compliment to him, BTW)
  • Matt Smith! He could totally be a time-travelling terminator, he is a Time Lord, after all. (If you don't understand that sentence, go watch some Doctor Who. You can thank me later.)
  • Two Ah-nulds? That's some pretty impressive CGI.
  • Jai Courtney. Love me some Jai Courtney. He is most definitely leading man material.
  • Jai has no scars. Everyone else has scars.
  • Oh. Jai has no scars on his beautiful face. Once the clothes come off we see his scars, and yet, I'm having a hard time seeing the scars for all the abtacularness. #HisAbsHaveAbs
  • Those punks look too old to be punks. What are they, like 40?!? They look alot like the band Green Day. IMDB when I get home.
  • Get Jai some clothes or I won't be able to concentrate. #HisAbsHaveAbs
  • Byung-hun Lee! (GI Joe, Red 2)
  • And there's Danerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Dothraki, Breaker of Chains, First of Her Name, yada, yada, yada
  • Ooops. She's Sarah Connor here.
  • Trivia, which other Game of Thrones actress has played Sarah Connor? (yes, I ask myself trivia questions that I already know the answer to. I'm an only child. I learned to entertain myself at a young age.) 
  • Answer, Lena Heady in the short-lived TV show the Sarah Connor Chronicles.
  • Dammit! Pay attention to the movie.
  • Emilia Clarke has the biggest eyes. And she seriously needs some chapstick.
  • Sarah Connor calls Ah-nuld "Pops"?!? OMG, dying.
  • Chase, chase, chase. 
  • Fight, fight, fight.
  • Explain how time travel has changed the entire plot. 
  • Time travel is super confusing. 
  • Pops has the best comic lines of the movie. How did that happen?
  • Go back to the future in a giant, homemade flux capacitor? Scary. Jai has to take off his clothes again?  Not scary at all. #HisAbsHaveAbs
  • Awww...Ah-nuld is a T-800 with a heart. 
  • J.K. Simmons! I love him in everything, but the first thing that is coming to mind right now is "We are Farmers. BOM BA BOM BOM. BOM. BOM. BOM." 
  • Something about magnets.
  • Fight, fight, fight. Chase, chase, chase. Explode, explode, explode.
  • The world is safe until the movie studio needs another summer blockbuster. 
  • Jai gets the girl (which every one but him knew ahead of time) and also gets Pops as the world's scariest father-in-law.

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Random Thoughts Movie Review: Ted 2

After a month's absence from the blog, I'm back! My friend Billy will be so proud. Or he would be, if he read my blog as much as he teased me about it. Anyway...

I just got home from seeing Ted 2. It ran one hour and 55 minutes. It could have easily told the same story in an hour thirty. My overall opinion was that it was sorta okay. Not as good as the original and I would have rather spent my ticket money on something else. 

Of course, we all know that my reviews aren't really about the movies themselves exactly. My reviews are about the random thoughts that go through my head DURING the movie. 

So here we go with my random thoughts from Ted 2:

  • I wonder how many stars will show up in this. Seth McFarlane always manages to get some interesting cameos.
  • Marky Mark. I love me some Marky Mark.
  • Hey! It's Flash Gordon. FLASH! AAAAHHH, AAAAHHH!
  • There's Puddy. I mean Patrick Warburton. Is he at the wedding with Worf, I mean, Michael Dorn?
  • That musical dance sequence during the opening credits is 5 minutes of my life I'll never get back. Thanks, Seth McFarlane.
  • So far, everyone in this movie is just obnoxious. Except Marky Mark. I love me some Marky Mark.
  • FLASH! AAAAHHH, AAAAHHH!
  • Tom Brady. Cheater. It pisses me off he's a cheater in a hot guy's body.
  • Sperm donation clinic sample room. This is going to be bad, isn't it?
  • I think I'm going to barf.
  • Okay, the Kardashian joke was kinda funny.
  • The Hasbro guy is Mimi's husband! I miss the Drew Carey Show.
  • GIOVANNI RIBISI. 
  • Hey, that's whats-her-name from Mamma Mia. 
  • She DOES kinda look like Gollum.
  • When is this movie going to start getting interesting?
  • Large pecker-shaped bong. Classy.
  • MORGAN FREEMAN!
  • New York Comicon. I'm so envious right now. I do get to go to the Lubbock Comicon though. Which will be much smaller. And have fewer celebrities. The big guest will be that Jake Loyd guy who played Anakin Skywalker as a kid. Didn't he get arrested recently? I wonder if that will prevent him from coming to Lubbock? Our Con might have just gotten smaller. Hmm....maybe I should be paying more attention to the movie. 
  • FLASH! AAAAHHH, AAAAHHH!
  • OMIGOD. Patrick Wharburton is in The Tick costume and Michael Dorn as Worf. Be still my nerdy little heart.
  • Marky Mark in the hospital. I love me some Marky Mark. 
  • Wow. Shouldn't this movie be over yet?
  • When does Magic Mike come out?

Have you seen Ted 2? What were your thoughts?

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Al Roker will thank me for this one day.

When the weather is bad like it is today, I always take a moment at night to consider what I'm going to wear to bed.

Am I really confident that we're not going to have a tornado? Then I'll wear my regular pajamas.

Am I 50/50 on the possibility of a tornado? Then I'll wear the pj's that look more like sweat pants.

Do I think it will be bad enough I'll see Bill Paxton (from the movie Twister, you young uns should look it up) the next morning? I'm going to bed fully-clothed. There would be nothing worse than to be interviewed by local news the next day if I'm bra-less, barefoot and in my Betty Boop pajamas.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Maybe I should get an "I LOVE THE ROCK" bumper sticker.

On the drive home, I watched a young woman who was talking on her phone cross three lanes of traffic (cutting off someone in each lane) before slamming on her brakes in front of me to make a last minute right turn. In the middle of the chaos, I saw the bumper sticker on her car: I LOVE JESUS. I'm sure glad she loves Jesus, because with her driving she's going to get to meet him sooner rather than later.

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Happy Randoms - April 2015

Just a few of my random thoughts/rants/observations from the past month....


A colleague and I were talking about how wonderful it would be to have three Fridays every week. Or a holiday every month. Or a month of Sundays. It all sounded AWESOME, especially the month of Sundays. And then I realized a month of Sundays would be AWFUL because it would mean 30 days without Chick-fil-A.

...

I've been binge-watching MI-5, which is a BBC spy drama series. The United Kingdom is apparently a very dangerous place to be. Probably because they only have four (typically very attractive) spies and a computer geek protecting the country at any given time.

...

I got a pedicure after work today, and while my toes were gettin' all pretty, I had the massage chair on the highest "hurt so good" setting. It was working the kinks out of my shoulder blades so well that I kept getting this mental image of a Cold War-era Communist Russian woman named Olga kneading a large ball of bread dough to feed her comrades. It was that good of a massage.

...

I thought mahjong was the game little old ladies played to relax and keep their hands busy while they gossip. And then I downloaded a mahjong app. I am not relaxed. I am super frustrated. ‪#‎ConcentrationForGrownUps‬‪#‎AllTheSymbolsLookAlike‬

Saturday, April 25, 2015

I need a small business loan so that I don't have to change out of my pajamas.

Over the years I've had a few really great ideas for starting my own business. For example, if Texas ever legalizes pot, I'm going to open a 24-hour food delivery service that specializes in donuts, macaroni & cheese, and tacos and/or burritos to profit from pot users' munchies while keeping high people out of their cars and off the streets. Naturally, the company's name would be "4:20 Midnight Munchies" and the delivery vehicles would be referred to as the "Baked Mobiles." For the record, I don't smoke pot. I've never even tried it. That's just not my thing. But making money off people who do smoke pot? That could totally be my thing.

Today I've decided to open a drive-thru grocery where you call in your grocery list in advance, and then pick it up in 30 minutes at the store drive-thru window. Naturally, the company's name would be "Window Shopping". Get it? You do your shopping at the drive-thru window?  

Anyway, the idea for "Window Shopping" comes from the fact that now, like right-this-very-minute now, I need a few things from the store. But it's not worth putting on real clothes to go to the store for a few things. I'm just not one of those women who considers it acceptable to wear my pajamas at Walmart, despite the fact I bought said pajamas at Walmart. So how great would it be to just call the store and say "I need a gallon of milk, a bottle of zin, a box of Little Debbies, a package of tortillas and some raspberry chipotle jam. Be there in 30." Because, while I may have enough pride to not wear my pajamas in public, I'm not above wearing them in the car as long as I never have to actually get out of the car. I've put alot of thought into this. I consider my car, aka AIR FORCE ONE, to be an extension of my personal space. My apartment is also an extension of my personal space. So, being in my car is like being in my apartment. And being in my apartment is not the same as being out in public. Ipso facto, it's TOTALLY okay to wear my pajamas in the car. 

I've really been brainstorming on "Window Shopping" and so far I've only found one obstacle to becoming a small business owner. One fairly large obstacle. It turns out that I'm not only too lazy to get dressed to go to the store, I'm also too lazy to start my own business. 

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

I really should have my own Secret Service detail.

In case you didn't know already, I'm a pretty important person. In fact, I'm the president's daughter and I'm getting home via Air Force One today. 

See, I recently took a mini-vacation to have a few days free to FINALLY get my braces off and spend a little time with my folks. (BeeTeeDubs, my teeth look fabulous. See for yourself.)




My trip to see the parents had a specific mission: trade cars. Sadly, Big Red (my Pontiac Grand Am/longtime boyfriend) was really starting to act his age. Electrical problems, window problems, and an engine that I didn't entirely trust to drive long distances were ruining our relationship, so I finally admitted it was time to take Big Red away to a farm to live with the other old motors like himself. (No really. That's not a euphemism for "putting him down." My parents live on a farm, with an old pickup and a couple of old tractors and lawn mowers.) Anyway, the plan was to trade Big Red for my Mom's Chevy Impala. And we did. And the Impala is WONDERFUL. Quieter, better gas mileage, radio controls on the steering wheel...but I digress. As usual.

Mom and Dad know that I have a habit of naming my cars, so naturally they asked what I was going to name the Impala. I had been thinking about it, but hadn't really settled on anything. You have to drive a car before you know it well enough to give it a name. (I've always wondered how parents pick out their kids' names before the babies are even born. That little "Tucker", might turn out to totally have an "Ed" personality, ya know? But since the Universe has made it clear I should never have children, I suppose I don't have to worry about it). Anyway, we tossed around a few ideas, and even tried to come up with a name that would be a clever play on the color of the car. In case you're wondering, the car is tan, but Chevrolet calls it "Sand." There was Sandy (nixed because I have friends named Sandy), and Mojave and Sahara since those are deserts, and deserts have sand. (I nixed Mojave because just...no. And I nixed Sahara because it's too close to Brangelina's daughter's name.) I was thinking about AlesSANDro, but that's a name better suited to a Ferrari. I decided to defer until I could think of something AWESOME.

The day after the car swap, my parents' little town was having one of those trade days/craft show/community event things that little towns have to bring in the big city folks and their big city money. My Mom was scheduled to work a table that morning for the  "Friends of the Local Nature Park" club. (That's not the ACTUAL name, of course, but I can't remember the real one.) Anyway, Mom was manning the table because she's not only in the club, she's also the club president. Their table was full of park maps, event schedules and a craft opportunity for any kids that came by. And we all know that a big box of Crayola markers is like a magnet for little kids. Two little girls came over and colored for quite awhile, mostly oblivious to the adults around them until....

Mom had walked away to talk to someone she knew, so I was left with the park club table and the little girls. A lady walked up and I started giving her the club spiel that Mom had been giving. I was pretty knowledgeable about the park and club info, but the lady still managed to ask a question that I didn't know the answer to. I told her that the club president had momentarily stepped away; I was just filling in since I was the "president's daughter."

Suddenly, one of those little girls' heads popped up whiplash-fast and she asked (dead seriously), "YOU'RE OBAMA'S DAUGHTER?" 

Now, it takes alot to leave me speechless, but that did it. The lady I had been talking with went red-faced from laughing so hard. And the poor little girl just looked confused. 

Since then, every time I see President Obama on TV, I think of that little girl, and that weekend, and the car swap....and I finally came up with a name for my car. A name suitable for a president's daughter. I have named my car AIR FORCE ONE. 



*********

Dear NSA, 

I have no doubt that this blog post made all of your key-word alarms go off. I also have no doubt that after reading this you've figured out that I'm not dangerous to anyone but myself and the English language, and that you need a more exciting job. 

Thanks for visiting the blog and for keeping us safe. 

Shelley






Monday, March 30, 2015

Random Thoughts TV Review: The Walking Dead Season 5 Finale - SPOILERS!!

I usually only do my random thoughts reviews on movies, but last night's season finale of The Walking Dead is still buzzing around in my head today. 

SPOILERS AHEAD. DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WARN YOU.

Glenn may have forgiven Nicholas, but Maggie is a whole 'nother story. Maggie might break his other leg. And I’m okay with that.

The priest has a survival instinct that makes him dangerously stupid, and that pisses me off.

Pete may have been a wife-beating jerk, but he was still Jessie's husband and the father of her kids. The fact that Rick shot him (right in front of her) should make for an interesting start to their relationship, which we have to assume will happen. I imagine her kids will not respond well to Rick or Carl.

Anyone think Michonne may feel some guilt because her katana was what Pete used to kill Reg? If she had been carrying it... (Here is where my friends argue it wasn’t her katana. I’m going to watch again. If I’m wrong, I’ll come back and say so.)

I love that the homemaker part of Carol is still in her enough for her to want the casserole dish back.

Whatever happened with the micro-inverters they went for in the last episode? It didn't look like they brought them back with Noah and Aiden being dead and all...but they still probably need them.

Those W guys would have loved the Governor. And just how many car batteries did they have to have to set up their undead rave?

Awww. Abraham and Eugene are besties again.

Daryl has kinda been a recruiter all along. He and Glenn brought Bob (now-dead black man) to the prison with. Daryl brought Noah (now-dead black man) to the church. If the trend holds, Morgan really needs to watch his back. He’s pretty much a badass now though, so that definitely helps the odds. (The fight scene where he used his stick [not a euphemism] to totally beat the snot out of the Wolves made me think of Game of Thrones when Oberyn Martell and the Mountain had their fight, except Morgan didn’t get his head squished like a melon.)


Glenn has been shot and Rick just killed the surgeon/doctor. Think we'll lose Glenn at the beginning of next season?


Norman Reedus’ warning to bring the Kleenex was a total ruse. I didn’t cry a bit.


While it’s great that none of the major characters died, I feel like we didn’t really advance the storyline that much given that it was a 90-minute episode. But, I guess, it wasn’t REALLY 90 minutes. As previously mentioned, I’ve decided to watch again today and bought it on Amazon. The Amazon description says that it’s 65 minutes. 65 MINUTES?!? Nearly a THIRD of the time from beginning to end was spent on commercials. Wow.


The promo for the spinoff “Fear the Walking Dead” was super duper short. I feel cheated. I hope it turns out to be a good show though. And I hope it runs while the main show is on summer hiatus. That would give me year-round apocalypse. And if it’s really good, I hope it gets its own talk show…


…which leads to my final thought. Even though I’m complaining about the abundance of commercials in the finale, I hope that a 90-minute finale is a trend that AMC continues every season. I would also like a 90-minute Talking Dead finale to go with it. More minutes, even a few, means more to talk about. And Yvette Nicole Brown needs to be a guest every week. She and her pages of notes are the best.


What did you think about the finale? Good? Bad? Meh? Let’s discuss!

Monday, March 16, 2015

My spirit animal is a hibernating bear.

Conversation today:

Me - "When is the first day of Spring?"

Friend who really doesn't want to be involved in this - "March 20. That's Friday."

Me - "Okay, good. That gives me three days."

FWDRWTBIIT - "Three days for what?"

Me - "Three days until I have to shave my legs. I don't feel obligated to do it during the winter."

FWDRWTBIIT - "So you're like that meme."

Me - "What meme?"

FWDRWTBIIT - "The one how you're like a bear during winter. You have hairy legs, you're totally scary when someone wakes you up, and you don't like hunters in plaid flannel shirts. Or something like that."

Me - "Yeah. Something like that."

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

I volunteered for the company health and fitness challenge. Yeah, I'm surprised about it, too.

The company health and fitness challenge officially kicked off today. We got goodies (the healthy kind), watched a motivational video that was actually pretty cool, and heard from a dietician (spell check is telling me dietician is not a word. It would be super helpful if it would show me what IS a word for "person who plans healthy meals and makes you instantly regret those Double Stuft Oreos").

Anyway, she (the lady who is apparently NOT a dietician) had great words of wisdom: "You lose weight in the kitchen; you tone in the gym," which is a pretty smart and tactful of way of saying "eat more salads, brainiac" (spell check is telling me that brainiac is also not a word. I vehemently disagree). SO....in the last three days, I have had 3 lunches and 3 suppers. Five/5/cinco of those meals involved salad. Have I mentioned that I hate salad?

I guess what I'm trying to say is that all you students reading this who are the science-y types really need to find a way to make bacon and/or pepperoni and/or Mexican food and/or Double Stuft Oreos that are as healthy as salad. Or salad that tastes like bacon and/or pepperoni and/or Mexican food and/or Double Stuft Oreos.

To all my friends and co-workers who are also doing the health and fitness challenge, good luck! I hope you meet all your weekly goals. And I hope that my team wins all the prizes.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Trying to plan around Mother Nature, a poem

I'm trying to plan my outfit for tomorrow and tomorrow's weather. It's difficult to do, so I came up with a little poem to make it better. It goes like this:

Eenie, meenie, miney, moe...
Will it rain? Or will it snow?
Will the Lubbock sun shine hot?
I might guess right, but probably not.

copyright/trademark/dibbs: Shelley J

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Kids these days...they keep comparing me to their moms

On my way home from work I stopped at the store for groceries, which naturally included a bottle of wine. The sacker boy told the cashier girl "you better check her ID." To which the cashier looked at me, then looked back at the sacker and said, "REALLY?" 

My heart broke a little. 

And then the sacker, who had clearly just been looking for a reason to talk to the cashier, who was undeniably pretty (but maybe not so smart) said, "I was just kidding. She's obviously way old enough to buy wine." Then to me, "Bet you're about my mom's age, huh?" 

I said, "I'm probably older. I just look THAT good." That shut them both up. 

After I pulled out of the grocery store parking lot, a little white car full of teenage kids passed me. I noticed their left tail light was out, so being the Good Samaritan that I am (don't laugh), I caught up, got beside them and gave the unofficial-but-practically-official international sign language motion for "ROLL YOUR WINDOW DOWN." We went nearly two blocks before they realized what I wanted them to do. Right about the time I had decided I should call a cop because these kids weren't intelligent enough to handle driving, I realized they were so young that they had probably NEVER RIDDEN IN A CAR WITH MANUAL WINDOWS. They probably had never listened to a cassette tape before, either. How do you get through high school and college without mixtapes? Anyway, I delivered the tail light message and the driver yelled, "Thanks! I'll go get it fixed. If I got a ticket my mom would kill me."

At that point, my heart broke the rest of the way; some for all the kids who haven't learned to properly flirt (which involves a good mixtape), and some for me. Then I got the heck on home to have a glass of that wine that some guy's mom is also old enough to buy. 

Monday, February 16, 2015

Do's and don'ts for when I die

If you didn't figure it out from the title, this post is about death. Specifically, how I want things done in the event of my death. Now, if you're one of those people who thinks that talking about death is sad or morbid, then this post isn't for you. But, if you're one of those folks who thinks talking about death is just part of life and/or is curious about just how I want to be sent into the afterlife, then please, do read on. 

This post has actually been written for awhile. I was getting ready to post it when a friend from work passed away, and despite all evidence to the contrary, I do have enough manners to not post about death on the same day I go to a funeral. I decided to go ahead and share my madness on the subject today after hearing my cubicle ninja ladies talking about how the latest thing in the funeral industry is to have the carbon in your body turned into a diamond. It's a thing. Human bodies have a high carbon content. So that song my dad used to sing all the time about "I'm just an old chunk of coal, but I'm going to be a diamond some day" could really happen...with the right planning and approximately $3K.

Believe it or not, after hearing about the awesomeness of the death-to-diamonds thing, my plans haven't changed. The things that I've had in mind for years are still the things I want to happen (or in some cases not happen). Every time I get into a "if I die before you and Dad rant" to my Mom, my list of demands gets a little longer. Finally, the list got so long that Mom told me to write them down for her, so here we are. I have determined the categories that I consider important and given each a DO and a DON'T.  


*****

In the case that I die in some kind of auto accident:

DON'T erect any kind of roadside memorial. Seriously. Those irritate me for reasons even I don't exactly understand. Just don't do it. Or I will haunt you forever.

DO make an effort to be a safer driver in your own life. Put away the phone. Buckle the seat belt. Slow the hell down.

Dealing with my remains:

DON'T have a viewing or put me in a coffin. Personally, I think viewings are creepy. And so is picking a fancy coffin. People are so freaked out by the idea of dying that even in our deaths we try to "win" by being embalmed and having a big, heavy expensive box that will slow down the decaying process. I'm no tree hugger by any means, but I believe our bodies should decay and go back into the Earth. Circle of life and all that hippie mumbo jumbo.

DO donate as many of my organs as possible. I've researched it a little, and sadly, I can't pass on my sense of humor, so my pancreas will have to do. After my organs have been harvested (which sounds wonderfully sci-fi), cremate what's left of my body and spread the ashes. It doesn't really even matter where the ashes get dispersed...it's not like I could complain even if it DID matter.

Sending a "death plant":

DON'T send a death plant. Those funeral arrangement bouquets/wreaths/whatchamacallits shrivel up and die and add to the sadness of death. The potted kind just remind the survivors of the fact their loved one is gone. Plus, I've never been very good with plants, so when it comes to MY death, sending a plant somehow seems inappropriate.

DO make a donation to a charitable organization in my memory. I'm pretty fond of Alpha Phi Omega National Service Fraternity, Xi Delta Chapter, but you can choose your own favorite. And if you don't have money to donate, go donate an hour or two of your time (something I should be doing more of).

Planning a memorial service:

DON'T plan a memorial service. I'd rather you had a party or a wake over a sappy memorial.

DO plan a memorial if it will make you feel better. Serve wine.

If you decide you need a memorial service to make you feel better (quotes):

DON'T have people recite a bunch of Bible verses to make me appear to have been more religious than I really was. We all know better. Plus, there are only, like, three verses I would recognize and you don't want me feeling stupid at my own memorial. *

DO celebrate my love of reading with quotes from my favorite books and/or authors. (Harry Potter series, Jane Austen, Molly Harper's stuff...) Bonus points if you quote my own blog. 

If you decide you need a memorial service to make you feel better (music):

DON'T play a bunch of religious music. See above. *

DO play some of my all-time favorites, even if you think they're cheesy. Living On a Prayer by Bon Jovi should play as people are being seated. And if it looks like everyone's about to start crying,  have the DJ sling some U Can't Touch This by MC Hammer. For the end when everyone starts to leave, I expect to hear Jessie's Girl by Rick Springfield. JESSIE'S GIRL IS NON-NEGOTIABLE.

I think that pretty much covers it. Now I have to go clean up my apartment because all this thinking about death has me thinking about someone going through all my stuff when I'm gone. And right now, my place is so messy that if I weren't already dead, I'd die of embarrassment.

Monday, February 9, 2015

Going to the gym is no laughing matter. Except to me. And maybe Christian Grey.

I have re-joined the gym. Again. 

Hate is a strong word, but it's safe to say that I hate working out. Every minute of it. Every millisecond of it. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.

But after I work out? I feel wonderful. I feel accomplished. I feel SUPERIOR to all the schmucks who aren't awesome enough to work out. (Apparently all those workout endorphins cloud my memory because after I work out I conveniently forget that I have worked out exactly TWICE in the last two years or so.)

Anyway, I have learned the only path to the Obnoxious Endorphin Power Ranger stage of post-workout bliss involves actually working out. Specifically, actually working out for at least 30 minutes. Any less than that and I just get to the "sweaty and cranky" stage. And to make myself do more than 30 minutes at a time, I pretty much have to distract myself. So I close my eyes and think of England. Wait, no. (Sorry, I have been reading alot of Brit Lit lately....) So I take my tablet and headphones with me to the gym and watch a TV show on Hulu or listen to an audiobook. Today I went the audiobook route. Audible had some book recommendations for me, but I went rogue and searched through the Romance genre, picking a title I'd never heard of before.

When I listen to an audiobook, I prefer to close my eyes and really get a good mental picture of the story being told. (Unless I'm listening to an audiobook while I'm driving. Then I just close my eyes to freak out my passengers.) Listening at the gym is no different. I get on the treadmill, start the audiobook, close my eyes and start walking. 

Today, I picked a chick lit book and got going, and I was not doing it half way. I had my headphones on,  eyes closed and was working up a pretty good boob sweat. (You ladies out there know what I'm talking about.)  And the book was turning out to be pretty funny. Not Molly Harper (my favorite chick lit author) funny, but definitely good for some hearty chuckles. 

I was really enjoying myself. (As much as one who hates to work out can enjoy herself in the gym, anyway.) And was really patting myself on the back for making such a great choice, particularly when a chapter ended right as I was starting to get tired. It was like the book was made to go with my workout. So before the next chapter started, I stopped the treadmill, opened my eyes, grabbed the towel to wipe off the face sweat and glanced to the right to make sure I wasn't about to run into to someone as I stepped off the treadmill. What I saw was a dude grinning at me from ear to ear. A dude who said "I gotta know what you've been listening to. You were really laughing." So yeah. I had had an audience. An audience that I hadn't noticed because my eyes were closed. Great. 

Now normally, as an only child, having an audience is a good thing. But when it's unintentional and I'm ugly sweating? Not so much. And having a dude talk to me? Sounds good, except that when I told him about the book, he said he'd have to recommend it TO HIS MOM. Young people are so rude these days.

Anyway, I have plans after work tomorrow, so my legs and my ego get an evening off from the gym. I'm not sure that when I go back on Wednesday I'll keep listening to the same story or not, but if I do, I'm secure in the thought that at least I'll just be laughing to myself. It could have been so much worse. How could it possibly be worse, you ask? Well, because the first audiobook in the list of Audible's recommendations for me was 50 Shades of Grey.

OH. HELL. NO.





Thursday, January 29, 2015

I think Buzzfeed is following me.

Sometimes I wonder if the writers over at Buzzfeed are stalking me. Their lists tell the stories of my life. (26 Reasons Why Texas Will Always Be Home, What It's Like To Be Left-handed In A Right-Handed World, etc...) I thought it was impossible for them to know me better than they already did, and then they posted this: 

It's practically my autobiography.


I typically refer to Diet Coke as the "Sweet Nectar of the Gods." Buzzfeed shortened it to "sweet nectar," but the sentiment is the same. I really like their term "silver cylinder of joy" and plan to use it often in conversation. 


"How's your day going, Shelley?"

"Great, now that I have my silver cylinder of joy!"


Okay, that kinda sounded vulgar. Scratch that one for polite conversation. I'll stick to "Sweet Nectar of the Gods."



Pro tip: I make ramen tolerable by pairing it with the Sweet Nectar of the Gods, and sharing my lunch break with my love, The Rock.



The only thing Buzzfeed left off the list was, in my opinion, the NUMBER ONE thing Diet Coke addicts hate to hear. "The vending machine is out of Diet Coke." 

Saturday, January 24, 2015

How dare that Saudi king decide to die? An only child's lament.

As an only child I have been accused (not necessarily erroneously) of thinking that everything is about me. With that in mind, I want to tell you that I have waiting to gas up the car because gas prices have been falling every day for the last two? three? weeks. I figured the longer I waited, the better my price would be. The last I saw (when I was paying attention), it was $1.61 per gallon at my local gas station. Last night it was $1.68 per gallon! That's almost $1 more to fill up my 12-gallon tank! The death of the Saudi king has been really inconvenient for me.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Previously on "Not Talking to Myself..."

Sometimes I narrate my life in my head like I'm living my own personal reality show. Like "Kate Plus Eight" without all the kids, or "The Bachelorette" with considerably fewer hunks fighting to share a hot tub with me, or "Candid Camera". (You kids might have to Google that last one.)  I watch alot of TV, so I know how these things work. The narrator always puts things in the very best light (unless it's one of those reality shows that you watch because the peoples' lives are such trainwrecks). Luckily, my show isn't a trainwreck. Or at least I don't think it is. You may disagree. Whichever, my internal narrator always tells the best story possible with the facts at hand.

Anyway, the "Not Talking to Myself" show is back from winter hiatus (aka, the time when I had serious writer's block and a nasty case of the procrastinations), and you might need a refresher.

Cue narrator (I'll translate the "narrator speak" for you in the parentheses):

When we last saw our heroine, she was ready to embark on a 3-month trip that included a Mediterranean cruise, backpacking through Europe, and a spiritual cleansing ceremony with Tibetan monks high in the Himalayas. (She drove 100 miles to hang out with her parents and their dog for Christmas.)

She was living the life of luxury in her totally eco-friendly lake-side mansion designed and built by her favorite HGTV celebrities. (She was still in her tiny apartment.)

Her neighbors included Bey, Jay-Z and little Blue Ivy Carter, as well as Rick Springfield, Malala Yousef, and Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. She hosted regular block parties and was grateful her neighbors were always considerate of the Home Owners' Association rules. (The noisy neighbors with the three noisy kids finally moved out. They were replaced by a guy named "Wyoming" or "Choctaw" or "Wrangler" or something rugged and western and ridiculous, who likes to use power tools at 3:30 am. In an apartment. AT 3:30 AM. WTF?)

She traded in the Caddy for a brand new Lexus that matched her nail polish so much better. (She still drove Big Red. Whose windows were jacked up. And whose cruise control no longer worked. And whose AC/heater/defrost knob fell off last week, so she is in permanent defrost mode regardless of the weather.)

Our star was basking in the knowledge that she had not only cured cancer in her work at the University, but had also created some fascinating research based on the mathematical constant known as pi.  (She still works at the school and still loves her job making students and parents laugh while reminding them to pay their tuition bills on time. She also still likes pie.)

She was balancing the commitments on her social calendar with more grace and skill than a ballerina dancing Swan Lake. (She joined an online book club so that she could be social from her couch. In her pajamas. While drinking wine.)

What's next for our heroine? Fame? (10 more readers on the blog) Fortune? (a winning $50 scratch off ticket) Love? (THE ROCK)  We'll find out soon, as Not Talking to Myself continues....