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....