Chirky

I just got an email! From my husband! Telling me we were going to barbeque and watch a movie with friends on Sunday! How exciting! In fact, I couldn't stop using exclamation points!!!

Until I asked what else we could bring. And I had to use a question mark. That got me thinking:

Do you remember that perfume for women called ex'cla-ma'tion? I loved that perfume when I was younger. You could tell it was a high-class, expensive perfume because they sold it at the local Eckerds, which is the same thing as Walgreens or CVS. Does Eckerds even exist anymore? I think not.

ex'cla-ma'tion was cool because it looked like an exclamation point! And smelled fruity. And, I love both exclamation points AND fruit, so it was, like, totally perfect for me. So, I decided to see if it was still around. And, it is!

Apparently, in an effort to sell the perfume, they are giving away scholarships! Quick! Apply! I bet no one else even KNOWS about this scholarship. You'll win by default! Like that time my brother took first place in the gymnastics competition, and he was the only one competing in his classification! See how easy it will be?

And you'll be so witty and people will love you! And you can wear stylish clothes, like a black camisole! And you will obviously have attitude, like crossing your wrists! And your hair will be only somewhat shiny, with a very straight part down the side!

And maybe they'll give you a lifetime supply of perfume, and let you draw the winner for the sweepstakes! The sweepstakes! Quick! Enter!

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Earlier today, I rode down the elevator, picking up people as I went on my way. On one floor, a young muscular man entered the elevator, and I fully expected him to smell like a masculine cologne. Instead, he smelled like apple-cinnamon oatmeal. And I was standing two feet away.

Tell me, what does a man do to smell so strongly like apple-cinnamon oatmeal?

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I'm under the impression that when Bianca and I were roommates, she kept a hidden stack of small, soft objects that she could throw at me when I snored. Such as her slippers, which affectionately became known as slipper grenades. She also threw stuffed balls, stuffed animals, and scissors. Ha! I'm just kidding. We didn't have any stuffed animals.

Because I had never had a snoring problem before, I wasn't quite sure what to do about the issue. I tried sleeping in a variety of different positions, none of which worked. I bought Breathe Right strips to put on my nose, but they didn't help. They also left a weird mark on my face, and didn't have any of the benefits of Neutrogena nose strips, so I stopped using them. On a whim, and because the bottle said it would stop the snoring, I purchased something that you spray in your mouth.

One night I awakened to slipper grenades landing on my head, and it occurred to me that it would be an appropriate time to make use of my new purchase. I squeezed the pump ten times, but nothing came out. I thought that maybe it took a few pumps for the liquid to travel up the tube, so I continued pumping, and it continued not coming out.

I sat up in bed and turned on the lamp, much to Bianca's dismay. But I must figure out why my pump spray is pumping but not spraying! This is necessary for Bianca to sleep without my snoring and necessary for me to sleep without her slipper grenades! And scissors!

I inspected the bottle, pumped, and saw it spray. Finally! It must need light to react! Upon further inspection, I realized that the pump was facing the wall, which is why I was able to so clearly witness it spray a fine mist. I looked at the wall, and realized it was coated in my snoring spray. Oops! Another reason why our "landlord" hated us.

This past Sunday night I went to bed early. Roger came to bed about half an hour later, but only because I was already there, not because he was tired.

About fifteen minutes after he climbed in bed, I woke up to him telling me to stop snoring. Five minutes later, "Sweetie, will you roll over?" Three minutes later, while I SWEAR that I was still awake, but apparently not, he reached over and rubbed my arm, hoping that the gentle motion would cause my sleep to be disturbed long enough for him to fall asleep. It didn't work.

Roger grabbed his pillow and a blanket, and slept on the couch. Sad! My husband had to sleep on the couch because I was snoring! I woke up all throughout the night, only to find him still in the living room. Isn't this somewhat of a role reversal? Shouldn't it be HIM who is snoring? The next morning Roger asked me if there was some sort of surgery that would correct the problem.

Within the last six years, since gaining a significant amount of weight, I have started snoring. The two must be related. And until I lose this weight, I'm afraid nothing will change. So tell me if YOU also snore, especially if you are chunky, or plump, or obese, or just plain fat.

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This weekend, I learned some very important lessons that I would like to share with you. Please take note:

That a precious old woman making buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz noises and running around a stage talking about how much God loves me is incredibly alluring, and makes me want to do the same thing when I am her age. Including the buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz noises.

That I really like Nichole Nordeman's music, and upon learning that she lives in Dallas, I immediately upgraded "really like" to love. Now I have her contact information and I'm trying to decide whether I should wait outside her home so I can meet her. Would that be considered stalking, and would I get a restraining order? I imagine that we will be very good friends one day. Don't you? She'll come visit me and we'll talk on the telephone between plates of glass, and she'll admire my orange jumpsuit that I've accessorized with pearls, beads, and puff paint.

That I am every marketers dream. If you tell me it is organic and it will clean my ring better than anything else on the market, and it comes in a cute little hourglass bottle that I can turn upside down and watch all the cleaner drain through while it cleans my jewelry, I'll believe you! And I'll buy it! For only $25, PLUS it comes with an extra bottle of cleaner. And what is in the hourglass bottle will last for two years alone! And when it gets dirty, I just need to strain the cleaner through a coffee filter and then I can REUSE it. Plus, if my dog (I have none) or children (I have none) were to get into it and drink it, it wouldn't harm them! Because it is organic! How convenient and thrifty of me! And now my diamonds are so sparkly!

That (after someone said the word) when I continually ask, "What is a scrotum?" and the people sitting at dinner in my home are laughing so hard they can't breathe, then perhaps I should stop asking and go look it up in the
dictionary rather than wait for husband to say, between gulps of breath and laughter, "It's _______________, sweetie." Bwahahaahahahahahahaahahaahahaaha! Snort! (As an exercise in creativity, I'll allow you to fill in the blank with your own assortment of adjectives and nouns. It may resemeble something about a guy and a sack and a couple balls.)

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I have noticed that the eyelashes on my left eye are naturally clumped together, which makes wearing mascara VERY annoying for me, because I have to manually separate them so they won't look like spider legs. Gross.

Can you imagine a spider lodged in your eyeball, with its legs poking out? And a bulge under your eyelid where the body of the spider and its other four legs were nestled under your skin?

What if it got stuck and became dismembered, and then you had spider legs permanently hanging out of your eyelid, with a big bulbous bump under your skin, and four random spider legs were floating around your brain? What would you do then?

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If you want to know where I am today, visit me in The Great Rap-Off of 2005.

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And lo, the clouds parted and the angels sung from heaven with the discovery of a site dedicated to removing Andy Milonakis from TV. Please sign the petition, and be the first among millions to show your lack of support for Andy's cause.

Click HERE to read my first post against Andy.

Click HERE to read my review on The Blog Patrol.

Click HERE to sign the petition and get the free button for your own site, or click the "Remove Andy" button link to your left.

Tell your friends!!

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When I terminated my employment with The Sweatshop over a year ago, I gave the assistant administrator of the firm my new address and asked her to update my 401k plan with that information. I came back two months later to do some contract work, and while I was there I gave her my address again, because the change had not yet been made.

Over the course of the last year, I have emailed her two to three additional times, asking her to update my mailing address because I kept receiving notices from Fidelity telling me that the US Postal Service noted a recent change in my address, and that I should contact The Sweatshop to have this information corrected.

Today, I decided to bypass the middleman and contact Fidelity directly to facilitate the change. Unfortunately, they could not help. Apparently, ONLY The Sweatshop could change this information. I asked who the contact was for the account, and was pleasantly surprised to find out it was a firm partner, NOT the assistant administrator. I sent him this email, which has been changed only a little, as you might suppose:

From: jes
Sent: Tuesday, August 23, 2005 2:23 PM
To: Firm Partner
Cc: Firm Administrator; Assistant Administrator, whom we'll call "Mary"
Subject: Sweatshop's 401k Plan

Thank you for your help,
Jes
very important title
contact information

Approximately 14 seconds after I hit the "Send" button, my phone rang. It was Mary. She called for a friendly chit-chat, just to let me know how much she hates me and how she wishes that my skin would rot off of my decaying bones. By the time I hung up, my blood had risen to a temperature comparable to that of the sun in all its burning hotness.

A few seconds later, I received an email. From Mary. Apparently, she hit "reply to all" and forgot that I originally wrote the first email.

From: "Mary"
Sent: Tuesday, August 23, 2005 2:26 PM
To: jes, Firm Partner
Cc: Firm Administrator
Subject: Re: Sweatshop's 401k Plan

Is she psycho?
When do I ignore people?

Hmmm.

And that made me so mad! MAD!

Mary, we have a problem here. A) You were ignorant enough to include me on this email. And B) Yes, I've worked with you before, and you DO ignore people.

As the ever-so-polite person that I am, I decided to respond only to Mary, to save her embarrassment. Then "the devil made me do it" and at the last minute I included both her superiors (the Firm Administrator and the Firm Partner) on the email, just for spite:

From: jes
Sent: Tuesday, August 23, 2005 2:30 PM
To: Firm Partner
Cc: Firm Administrator; Mary
Subject: Re: Sweatshop's 401k Plan

Thanks,
Jessica

I heard nothing from her after this email. I like to imagine that she sunk deep into her chair and covered her face with her hands when she realized that I got the email meant only for the Firm Partner & Firm Administrator. And then I like to imagine the Firm Administrator storming into her office (Oh, yes, he does. He storms.), angry that she had left my name on the email.

It's like poetic justice for her being so rude to me, when it all could have been avoided a year ago if she had done her job.

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This weekend we had another gamenight, with a special guest appearance: JCol, aka Amstaff Mom. You've probably already read about it on hers or Eddo's site, but that won't stop me from recapping it AGAIN and adding my own pictures. Pictures that may be embarrassing to some, but to me, they are just small nuggets of digital evidence demonstrating my capability to blackmail.

Eddo cooked fabulous fajitas, and even provided the celebrated FLAUTAS from Pancho's. Raise the flag! We participated in a group farkle to see who would have to eat the ENTIRE BOWL of flautas. Here, you see JCol and her husband, Jeff, in a showdown. Jeff totally won the bowl, because his rock crushed JCol's scissors. Note the prize held between them, and the look of anticipation and excitement in their faces.

We played Cranium, which has become a favorite. Eddo's sister had to play puppeteer with Eddo, and here he is acting out "Feeding the ducks" according to her directive. Although it sort of looks like he is worshipping KT's feet.

What I have failed to mention thus far, and what you may already know, is that we celebrated Jeff's birthday on Friday night. JCol surprised him with a birthday cake, complete with squiggly candles, a happy birthday message, and party hats for us to wear!

Jeff, looking at his wife, JCol:
"Can you believe this guy?"

I couldn't resist. Eddo started eating one of the decorative items from what I'm suspecting was the birthday cake. Except it is a playing card, and the cake had nothing to do with cards. Does anyone know where this lard card came from?

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And lo, the clouds parted and the angels sung from heaven with the discovery of
a site dedicated to removing Andy Milonakis from TV. Please sign the petition,
and be the first among millions to show your lack of support for Andy's cause.

Click HERE to read my first post against Andy.

Click HERE to read my review on The Blog Patrol.

Click HERE to sign the petition and get the free button for your own site, or
click the "Remove Andy" button link to your left.

Tell your friends!!

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A friend was recently watching Discovery Health when an episode about penile
fractures kept her and her husband entranced, because who knew such a thing was
possible? I immediately called Roger to find out if he had "bones" down there,
or if it was just muscle. He informed me that it was the latter, and I was
perplexed as to how one would fracture something that had no bones.

After researching it and learning how such a rare condition can occur, I became
more distraught by something else that caught my attention: the "Hot Topics"
section. Apparently, this website hosts an equivalent to "Dear Abby" � but of
the sexual realm. As I glanced at a few of the questions, I became intrigued by
the person answering questions about pumps meant to enlarge certain areas of the
male body.

First, why did this man think it was acceptable to purchase such a tool on eBay?

Second, shouldn't he be talking to his doctor about this, and not writing in to
a website where the entire World Wide Web can read his question AND HIS NAME?

Third, do this many men fall prey to such pumps and pumping and deflating and
pain that they need to write in to this website about it, or is the author
making it up?

Fourth, WHO IN THE WORLD PRACTICES WEIGHT-LIFTING WITH THIS AREA OF THEIR BODY?

I am not sure whether I am more disturbed by the questions, or by the fact that
someone actually took the time to answer them and then post both the questions
AND the answers on the Internet in a "Hot Topics" section.

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An operations manager for Jack in the Box was late for a meeting and called his
boss to tell him he was running late. As he was leaving the voice mail message,
he witnessed an accident and went on to provide a "play by play" of the
incident.

This is the actual voice mail message. It was forwarded so many times within
Jack in the Box, it crashed their voice mail server.

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO THE VOICEMAIL
(Sound needed. And you may want to shut your office door.)

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I am compelled to tell you that last weekend KT spent the night with me, and
while she was "sleeping" in my guest room she took it upon herself to post on
several sites under my Blogger account, since I hadn't taken the precaution to
sign out prior to her arrival. I have since learned my lesson.

I have read several comments that "I" posted both in the 2:00am hour on Saturday
and also that morning around 10:30 am, and they made me LAUGH OUT LOUD.

However, I think it is obvious that I didn't write these, because I would never
put the comma between "grew" and "up" or misspell the word "tattoo."

Thanks, KT, for the good laugh:

"Where i grew, up the local garage sale was the best thing we had to a country
fair. The entire town would come out and we would deep fry twinkies and then
some of the dads would take all us kids around the block in the back of their
El Camino (that was our roller coaster type ride). We would all bring out lawn
chairs and just sit around and talk and then at the end of the day the family
would give away all thier left over junk and we kids liked to think it was
prizes from the fair."

"I have a tatoo of a big ship on my back. I got it when I was in the merchant
marines right out of high school. After a while I just passed out and they
kept on going. I'll post pictures of it on my blog soon."

"Ben you are so fiesty. Is that a normal personality trait or are you SUPER
FEISTY on Fridays? Is it FEISTY FRIDAY up there in Canada? Eh?"

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If I'm like this with my nephew, I can't imagine how nuts I'll be over my own
child. I dug through the Chase files again today, and found these pictures from
our excursion to the lake. We're sitting at the dining table in my parent's
motor-home, and I'm sure there was a dialog quite similar to this:

"Hey! Turn that camera back toward me. This is my dramatic interpretation of How
Many Faces Can One Child Make In A Span Of Thirty Seconds? Please, FOCUS!"

"Is that thing on?"

"Can I have everyone's attention please? Attention, adults!"

"Are you still watching me?"

Interesting how grown adults are reduced to a babbling, clamoring species in the
presence of an adorable child.

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A few months ago I told you about my trip to Boston. I told you that just being in the city made us feel smarter, and that when we visited Harvard we each bought a book from the Harvard Bookstore. Mine was a scientific book of inventions, and I promised to share random excerpts from it with you, Internet. Therefore, from time to time you will find some of my favorite Chindogu inventions highlighted on here. Enjoy!

Excerpt taken from The Big Bento Box of Unuseless Japanese Inventions by Kenji Kawakami.
Baby Mops

Make your children work for their keep. After the birth of a child there's always the temptation to say "Yes, it's cute, but what can it do?" Until recently the answer was simply "lie there and cry," but now babies can be put on the payroll, so to speak, almost as soon as they're born. Just dress your young one in Baby Mops and set him or her down on any hard wood or tile floor that needs cleaning.

You may at first need to get things started by calling to the infant from across the room, but pretty soon they'll be doing it all by themselves.There's no child exploitation involved. The kid is doing what he does best anyway: crawling. But with Baby Mops he's also learning responsibility and a healthy work ethic.

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Eddo is running out of bandwidth because he is hosting so many people's images.
Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to inform you who are using Eddo to host
your template images to please do the following:

1. Save all the images used on your site to your desktop
2. Create a free account with http://www.photobucket.com/
3. Load all the images on your site into your new, free photobucket account
4. Change the HTML code to reflect the new URL tag of the photos, replacing
where they were once stored on eddo's site.

This way, you can host your own images. What a feeling of autonomy! It's
positively liberating, like running naked in the wind!

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Hey, you. Yeah, I'm talking to YOU in Charlotte, North Carolina. You who
searched "Jessica Nasty Pictures" in the MSN Search Engine. We have a problem.

First, MSN is ancient. Please stop using it immediately and only use Yahoo! or
Google search engines hereinafter.

Second, and perhaps more importantly, I have never had a nasty picture taken of
me IN MY LIFE. You see, it's because when my hair is professionally straightened
it is ridiculously shiny. And when you have ridiculously shiny hair, no picture
with me in it can be bad. Or nasty.

Last night we ate dinner with the Warnock's, owners of the very loveable Tex.
His coat is so shiny, and he is always so excited to retrieve the sticks I
throw. There is no picture of Tex that is bad either, because his jet-black hair
is so darn shiny.

There's a theme here, don't you see? Shiny hair means naturally photographic. So
stop trying to find the nasty pictures. It's just not gonna happen.

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Roger has noticed that I haven't been wearing my hair down a lot lately. This
causes him severe anxiety, and his eyes pop out of his head while he chases me
around the house, trying to discover how my long hair disappeared. When I start
wearing my hair in buns and ponytails all the time, I know that it is time to
visit my hair stylist. Or, Roger knows that it is time and makes an appointment
for me.

Thank God for husbands, or my hair would be down to my ankles in a long, ratty
mess. That, or chopped off ridiculously short and sassy.

Last night was my appointment with Kris, my stylist. Of course, his name is
spelled uniquely because he's a stylist. What's more, he's gay. We spent the
entire appointment discussing homosexuals, his family, his boyfriend, Roger, my
hair, blogs and Vegas. I'm not so sure that I should have put his boyfriend and
Roger so close together in that sentence. Please don't confuse the two.

Kris is the only person who has the capability to straighten my hair without
making me crazy. I can't do it, thus the reason that I am on meds. Or, now that
I am on meds, perhaps I should try. But, my dosage is conservative, and I'd
really like to prevent myself from having to up the ante, so maybe I shouldn't
try it.

Last night after Kris washed, massaged, and cut my hair, he asked if I wanted it
styled straight or curly. Since I wear it curly all the time, I decided to see
how it would look straight.

Let me rephrase: I decided to see how it would look straight, and shiny and
silky. Not straight, like it turns out when I try it on my own: wavy, frizzy,
and in desperate need of being re-wet and never attempted again.

I slept very delicately last night so that I wouldn't make a mess of it, and
gingerly took a shower this morning in very cold water (read: not 104 degrees)
so that the humidity wouldn't make it curl up again. Then I brushed it, and
voila! I'm ready for work!

I took a picture of myself with my camera when I got to work, so now you'll know
what I look like with straight hair. I hope this is sufficient:

Look! It's me! You can tell that I am holding the camera in one hand, because my
right shoulder is slightly higher than the other. We have lots of extra black
paper hanging around the office, so I just decorated my walls with it for a
backdrop. I looked to the left, then flipped my head around really quickly to
get my hair in a "spray" fashion. Also, I have really high-quality fluorescent
bulbs in my ceiling, and the light is reflected in my hair. You can tell because
a cross is perfectly formed in my hair, showing just how shiny it is. I barely
managed to flip my hair, pucker my lips in a half-smile and look straight into
the camera before clicking it.

I'm so lucky that I have such photographic hair. Aren't you glad that you can be
friends with me?

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I am trying to cope with an addiction. I don't know how I allowed myself to get
this bad. I'm not sure where to go from here, or if there are support groups
available.

I have Yahoo!, MSN, and GMail messengers that tell me when I have new mail. I
don't even have an MSN email account, and still, my computer automatically logs
me in every day. While I am working throughout the day, I find my mouse
scrolling down to the tiny "e" that links me to the world wide web. I click on
it before my brain can Just Say No, and the Yahoo! search page immediately
appears. I scan the news stories, check for the new mail icon (just in case my
mail indicator hasn't notified me yet), and try to make up things that I can
search for.

I click through several blogs saved in my Favorites, check various news sites,
and then close the window. Less than three minutes later, I have Yahoo! open
again, repeating the same routine. All the information listed in the news and
entertainment sections are the same. So I close the window and walk away from my
desk.

When I return, I open the Internet again. Same procedure, same information.

What is wrong with me?!?

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As you may have read on Katie's site, we had a game night this weekend. If you can't read, just look at the pictures she posted.

Since I left my pics at home, I have recreated a couple of them here. Now you'll see why I won $25 for 3rd place in the art contest in the 8th grade. I'm THAT good.

For Steve's benefit, this is Eddie, standing next to Bianca in my doorway:

These are Eddo's calves:

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A while back, OD posted a meme on his site and I promised him that I would answer the questions another day. Lucky for you, today's that day. I made a mental note to post this when I had nothing else to post.

Actually, I have many other things I would rather post. Unfortunately, I left my pictures at home so I can't use them. Perhaps that will come later today, when I get tired of not having my pictures and just start drawing images. Oh, lucky you!

MEME. Because you just can't get enough about me.

Post your answers in the comment section, and then post the meme on your site for others to complete. Unless, of course, if you're just about as tired of these as I am. But see, this works well for me, because YOU have to answer them, not me. Ha! Let's see how well you know me! (Italics are my additions.)

Who are you?
Are we friends?
When and how did we meet?
What brings you here?
Why do you keep coming back to my site?
Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
Describe me in one word. Or, one paragraph.
What was your first impression of me?
Do you still think that way about me now?
What reminds you of me?
If you could give me anything what would it be?
How well do you know me?
When was the last time you saw me?
Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn�t? Here�s your chance! But if it involves blackmail or matters of national security, just email me instead.
Are you going to put this on your blog and see what I say about you?

And, just to give you a taste of things to come, a ghostly-white self-portrait of me today. I especially like my eyelashes.

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Dearest Steve,

You were the first person to contribute a donation through Paypal to the
maintenance of this website. Words could not fully express the excitement and
joy that filled my heart when I first learned of your generosity. With your
donation, you have given me much more than a financial help. You have given me a
renewed sense of hope for the future of the site. What more can I say than
"Thank you?" It does not seem enough.

Eternally grateful, until the money runs out,
Jes

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One of my favorite things to do during the summer is swim. But! How fascinating!
I don't just swim. I practice unusual behaviors while I swim. The unusual
behavior that I am sharing with you today is a highly kept secret, only known by
some of my closest friends. So, sshhhh!!! Don't tell anyone.

I will only share one unusual behavior with you today. I fear overwhelming you
with facts and causing your head to spin into another dimension. Please feel
free to try this next time you swim. It is sure to cause intrigue among all your
friends.

First:
Keep one (or all) of the following items near you at the pool: potato chips, a
sandwich, and dry cereal.

Second:
While in the pool, take a bite of your chosen food (but not all at the same
time � that would just be gross).

Third:
With the food in your mouth, take a big breath and swim underwater (or, if you
prefer, you can sit, do a handstand, or tread � but your entire body MUST be
underwater).

Fourth:
Chew your food.
I admit: reading this does not sound all that mesmerizing. BUT TRY IT, because
your life will forever be changed. The dryness of the food in your mouth is an
incredibly stark contrast to the rest of your underwater environment. Every time
you eat a Pringles potato chip, you'll remember the time that you chewed a chip
underwater. You'll try to simulate chewing a turkey sandwich in the bathtub, but
the experience just won't be the same.

You'll giddily try to get all your friends to try it, but they'll just give you
a look that says, "You're ridiculous." You and I know the truth, though. Try it,
and then come tell me what you thought. I'll be your support during this time of
loneliness, this time of being shunned by your friends in light of your new
discovery. We'll work through it together, form our own foundation, and take the
world by storm.

D.F.W.E. Dry Food, Wet Environment. Perhaps I should start a website for this
new Foundation.

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Date: Wed, 3 Aug 2005 09:34:16
From: Roger F.
Subject: :o)
To: Jessica F.

Sweety,

Thank you for cooking a great dinner last night.
That was a really lame post on your blog.
You look pretty today.

Ps. (the sandwich technique in action)

I love you Sweety! :o)

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You may have noticed a lack of posts around here lately. Especially if you read
KT's comments. I've been keeping myself busy by actually WORKING while at work.
I'm also doing a couple design projects, which is time-consuming because I am
such a newbie with Illustrator.

Yes, this is boring news to you, I know.

I'm also entering a magazine contest! How intriguing!

Me? Entering a contest? Unheard of!!

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This weekend! So many exciting things happened! Can you imagine how wonderful it
was for me?!?

Friday night, I saw Willy Wonka Honka Tonka Yonka. It was bizarre, and I'm not
sure that I can say it was bizarre in a good way. But, it was entertaining.
Great movie to see at the dollar theater!

Saturday I drove to Denton and hung out with friends. And what did we do?
SCRAPBOOKED! I love scrapbooking. I like to pretend like I am a professional
scrapbooker, giving people advice on what they should do. When really, they
don't want my advice and their book looks fine in the first place. But you know,
since Roger is a graphic designer, I like to pretend like I know everything he
knows. AS IF it rubs off on me, or something. Bianca was there too, but she
doesn't scrapbook. She makes cards. And later that day I hung out with Bianca at
her new house!

Saturday night, I picked Roger up from the airport! He's home! No more sleeping
with uncuddly baseball bats!

Sunday I drove down to Nac-a-nowhere, where I just barely finished my first year
of college. I had been invited to a baby shower there, and there was NO WAY I
was going to miss it. To keep myself entertained while I drove, I took the
digital camera:

Almost there!

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The epicenter of Nac

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Amanda! I couldn't resist taking this picture. The paper plate, ON HER HEAD!
She's drawing a picture of a baby for a game we played.

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My own drawing looked a lot like this:

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Someone got a HOOTERS onesie for baby Dillon. I'm not convinced that Amanda was
thrilled about that, although she looks pretty happy in this picture.

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This picture just shows that Amanda wasn't the only one at her shower. There
were LOTS of us!

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WARNING, WARNING!

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We had a great time! I left around 5pm, and entertained myself while driving
home:

I never realized how dirty my sideview mirror was!

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I managed to take this pic while driving:

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And this one, too. To show Roger that I really wasn't speeding.

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It's impossible to go to East Texas and not stop by the establishment known as
the Texas Stop Sign. With a steak finger basket exclamation point! We don't have
these in Dallas proper.

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Oops. I forgot to take a picture when I first got it.

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I'm so glad that Dairy Queen thought to remind me to throw away my snowballs!

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In East Texas, they're sneaky. Rather than keeping your eye out for patrol cars,
you have to watch for these:

(that's a Texas State Trooper, by the way!)

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Whoa! What happened?

No, not really. I just found this image while I was looking for a State Trooper
truck, before I drew the one above.

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Does anyone else see what I see?
Hint: Michelangelo

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Here, let me help you:

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!

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Hi! It's me!

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Home, sweet home!

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