In case you have been living in a cave for the last week and a half- the Sooners lost in quite an embarrassing ball game.

I guess that’s one of the risks you take when you fly all the way to another state to watch a football game- your team might lose! I felt bad for the people behind us. They went to the game last year in which the Sooners lost too. They went on and on about the whole thing.

Because I realize the majority of my audience could care less about football and terrible offense and idiotic play calling (ie: the onside kick- what the crap was that anyway!?!) I will digress. The trip was still nice. Phoenix winter weather reminds me of Kuwait winter weather. It was very enjoyable.

So the title of this post has a tiny bit to do with being a bit bowled over with the Fiesta Bowl, but a lot more to do with simply just being bowled over in frustration and annoyances with events that have recently taken place back at the home base.

A few days ago I was preparing to write a post about how great my MIL is. Oh, and while we’re on that subject- I’ve decided to refer to her simply as “Pat” in future posts. Pat- as in Pat Macdougle (sp!?) from Everybody Loves Raymond. It’s like they’re sisters, guys.

Anyway, I had prepared to write a really nice post about her and a conversation we had, and how although she drives Will crazy at times, she really means well and blah blah blah. That, however, was until I had a conversation with my FIL that placed the entire post in a big disgusting clogged toilet.

^ Oh and speaking of toliets- so far so good with the no toilet situations this trip. Well, sort of. It’s a long story that I ought not to open up right now as I have a feeling this post will be quite long. Let’s just say the toilet flushes really funny now- but the victory is the fact that it still flushes. Right? Okay, back to the matter at hand.

Oh- and before I begin- I need a disclaimer. I realize Will’s parents have our interests in mind and all that crap, but I’m not really writing with that in mind. I’m pretty much just writing in anger and the sheer need to blow off steam. After I post this and get it off my mind I’ll go back to being fine and knowing they care for us, they’re great, and all that other stuff.

Where do I even start?…

I haven’t told Will any of what I’m about to share. Mainly because I don’t want him to feel as though I went to his mom behind his back (it wasn’t like that at all), and secondly because he and his dad are very close.I’m not even really sure how things got started, but I think it best not to vent to him about the whole thing. So, that means YOU are the lucky friends that I’m confiding in. Yes, the entire internet.

Okay so the other day Will went to see an old friend and run a few errands. Pat asked if I wanted to go along to Wal-Mart with her to do some shopping. As a person living in Kuwait where Wal-Mart does not exist, I’m not one to pass up such an offer, so I opted to tag along.

Mistake number one.

The trip was just fine. Nothing overly exciting, simply walking up and down aisles and talking about food- so thrilling, right? Anyhow, on the way home we got into a real serious conversation about some things that have been on my heart about Will, the future, and a few more other personal things. You can probably understand why I want to keep this matter sort of ambiguous, but to sum it up it was about God’s plan for me and Will and if perhaps God is still tugging him to return to full time ministry and how Will might not be listening. Another issue was about finances and spending money on what seems to me as unnecessary things. I had never revealed a lot of these thoughts to anyone. It seemed odd that I would release such personal insights to Will’s mom, considering a lot of the conversation circled around him, however, at the same time it felt good to let go.

Mistake number two.

Why!? Why Brittny!?! Do you guys realize what an idiot I am!? I know you’re reading this and thinking to yourself, “Brittny is a freaking idiot MORON!” Yes, I know. You don’t have to remind me. I fully realize I violated EVERY

SINGLE

MIL-DIL RELATIONAL RULE.

It’s like cardinal rule number one: Do not EVER under ANY circumstance share absolutely anything personal with your mother-in-law regarding her son.

Ugh, I’m cringing just thinking about the fact that I actually shared such information with Pat. I feel dirty- like 34 showers in a 2 hour time span would still leave me feeling all grimy for the whole thing. Cardinal rule number one guys! What was I thinking!?!

Anyway, we talked the whole way home about these things and God’s plan and things we out to pray for, etc. It was just a nice conversation. I could tell she knew exactly what I was saying, and I could understand the thoughts she was sharing as well because I often felt the same things. As we turned onto her street, I teared up and told her how thankful I was that we were able to talk and share such thoughts about Will and God’s plan, etc.

The whole family had a wonderful evening and had cherry pie with a heaping scoop of vanilla ice cream and all sat out on the porch holding hands and singing “Michael Row the Boat Ashore.”

The end.

Ha.

So, truthfully, I really did think that was the end of the conversation- “E.O.D” as my parents like to say (End Of Discussion).

Only, I forgot I married into Will’s side of the family in which nothing is ever really
“E.O.D.”

Again- yelling “Idiot” at myself- I should have known all this stuff by now!

See, in Will’s family things are done differently. For the sake of time I will sum it up by saying issues are usually brought up to one person of the family, and then another person, primarily Will’s dad, will bring the issue to light in generally a more private setting in hopes of clearing the air, etc. The whole thing annoys me, but hey- it’s better than what my family does which is simply suppress everything and never talk about issues and be perfectly fine with never ever doing so to keep happiness and peace among all (which isn’t always the best decision either- uh reference all Summer of 2005 posts).

Do you see where I’m going with this thing?

Yeah… I think you do…

So the day after my deep and meaningful conversation with dear old “mom,” I decided to go for a walk to get some exercise. As I was heading towards my desired walking trail, Will’s dad caught me outside.

Yes- his dad.

I thought he was going to tag along to show me the path to walk along. I wasn’t really thinking anything else.

As we started to walk he began with a booming introduction- one no doubt he might have practiced before deciding to escort me into the woods- WHERE THERE WOULD BE NO WITNESSES when he kicked the living crap out of every ounce of my freaking pride.

Okay- sorry- where were we? Ah- the introduction.

So, he started out with this introduction about Will’s grandpa that farmed, and how he always seemed to have an issue with his full-grown son-also a farmer- buying a new truck for himself all the time when it probably wasn’t the wisest decision. He went on a little longer but summed it up saying that Will’s grandpa came to the conclusion that sometimes that shiny new truck was all his son was working for to get him through long days and tough times.

“Oh crap,” I thought to myself, “I know exactly where this is going.”

“Pat!” I cursed to myself in my best Seinfeld “Neuman-esque” manner. “That Pat had sold me down the river!”

Will’s dad went on to talk about how Will is working hard right now and how sometimes buying things that don’t make sense to some make sense to him because that’s what help him get through the day while we’re in Kuwait. Blah blah blah- we went about 2 laps around the path having this conversation that is best summed up in the above sentence. Actually- it was more him talking, and me providing flabbergasted, “Uh-huhs.”

I know this whole thing doesn’t seem bad when you read it. Heck, I re-read it and it doesn’t seem that bad to me either, but at that instant I felt extremely put on the spot and really angry about the whole thing. Granted, a lot of it was my fault for opening my big fat mouth and thinking I could let my MIL in the circle of trust (HA!), but still- it’s a freaking circle of trust, dang it- keep it a freaking circle, not a horseshoe!

Alright- I also know that when you share something with someone, it’s generally a given that person tells their spouse. That’s like an unspoken rule I think we all know. However, it ends there! It goes in the vault never to be brought up again! Unless you’re freaking breaking the law or hurting someone- keep that crap in the freaking vault! Right!?

Okay- so back to the conversation-

I was so shocked that he would approach me in such a manner and defend a situation in which he didn’t know all the facts. How dare he come to me and say “such and such is the reason why Will buys things sometimes and it should be okay since that’s the reason” when I didn’t solicit such input!? Plus- don’t justify someone else’s behavior. I didn’t ask for the analysis!

First of all- the whole issue isn’t a big deal at all. We rarely spend money over there and it seemed to me that Pat had blown the whole thing out of proportion. I had no idea my comment would be taken in such a way. Secondly- mind your own business! I know exactly why my husband does the things he does and I don’t need a freaking analogy to drive it home! I already knew all that crap- and he’s right! His hobby DOES help him get through tough days in Kuwait- you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know! That wasn’t even the issue that Pat and I really discussed, it was more about ministry- so why in the world did she choose to focus on something that wasn’t really the main issue of our discussion?

I was so shocked that Will’s dad felt the need to get me- the perceived unsupportive wifezilla- alone to have a semi-intervention on a subject that didn’t need to be addressed. I didn’t really know what to say. As I mentioned before- I come from a family that first of all gets along fine, and second of all isn’t really into confronting situations in such a way- so instead of flying off the handle and taking out his bad knee, I just stayed silent and provided a lot of, cold, “Uh-huhs.”

I’m not sure if he could sense my stiff, closed posture or not, but I really don’t care. I was simply flabbergasted by the entire chain of events. I felt like going straight to Pat and letting her have it- rotating head, flying pea soup spewing out of my mouth and all. 

“The real truth is, PAT, I don’t even think I want children! I’ve just been being nice when you’ve dropped all your ‘sly’ hints!” I felt like yelling. Only, I have way more control than that and have no ability to truly be mean to someone (ha- I bet you have a hard time believing that after reading this post though, huh?).

I hate that I’m too nice. It’s truly one of my faults most of the time. Instead of telling Will’s dad what I really thought, I gave him control of the conversation and didn’t say what I was really thinking and now am kicking myself over the whole thing. I often remind myself of Meg Ryan’s character in You’ve Got Mail- never able to say what I want in the moment, but always full of great material 5 minutes after the fact.

I guess that’s why I blog. It probably saves my sanity and relationships- especially when living with family during the holidays.

So I feel better now and I’ve let the whole odd conversation go (though I’m sure you have a hard time believing me. What gave it away? The vowing to never give them grandchildren part??)

Trust me, the whole thing felt worse than it reads right now. It just all rubbed me the wrong way. I know it probably doesn’t seem so bad, and looking back a few days later it really wasn’t (uh- I guess…). It just upset me and seemed a bit inappropriate and unnecessary. Trust me, I’ve definitely learned my lesson- never break the cardinal rule!

A couple nights ago I was extremely ruthless and killed everyone in Monopoly, so I felt a lot better after that. We had a lot of fun playing and it once again reminded me that although the above conversation made me want to launch a brick through the window, I really like Will’s family. I guess I need to focus on the Monopoly days and not the awkward walks in the woods days, huh?

Last night Pat and I watched TV together, and she let me watch whatever mindless show I desired, so that was nice. We ended up watching Jon & Kate Plus Eight (super duper cute!) last night and just had a good time. I know you’re going to have a hard time believing me after my big vent, but I really do like Will’s family and am blessed to have such a good set of in-laws (ha ha, most of the time). I seriously needed to blow off some steam, though.

I feel as though I have SO much more to talk about- like the fact that Dr. Vet totally made a comment about how much I ate at lunch, the toilet story briefly mentioned above, and my big weekend in Dallas with a couple bloggers (!), but I better go.

Do you realize my trip is coming to a big finale very soon? I’m so bummed. It’s always hard to go back, but this time it will be so much harder. I thank you guys so much (Erin- thanks a million) for your prayers. I’m continuing to pray and trust God that He will take care of things at work as I prepare to go back. I have so much more I want us to talk about, but I better go for now. I truly look forward to catching up soon and getting to read about all the fun you guys have been having. I promise! we’ll catch up very soon. Again, sorry guys for being classified as hands down the worst blog friend EVER. I probably won’t get much computer time until the weekend we get back to Kuwait,and I promise to catch up then. Seriously. If I don’t I won’t have any blog friends to meet next time I come home because I won’t have any left!

Thanks for listening to me vent! More to come…

I had a great Thanksgiving and for lack of anything exciting to post, I will simply fill my blog with pictures, lots and lots of pictures. Lots of huge and not properly sized pictures that will probably make my blog look funny. YAY!

I posted a crap load on flickr and will probably get bored and won’t finish posting all of them on here- so if you’re bored too, you can look for the rest there!

I thought this sort of summed up life here. Covered ladies all in a row.

Have I mentioned Will hates taking pictures?

Making room for turkey.

My Angstgiving 2005 Guide. I have no idea why I still have it. Please don’t ask.

We got matching jerseys! Surprisingly enough, Will was the one who thought we should get them. Pretty cute. Too bad we won’t get to ever freaking wear them to a STUPID OU NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP GAME! WHY!? WHHHY Sam Bradford? Get well soon. PS- I need all other 5 and higher ranked teams to lose next week. Can you arrange that?

My mom would kill me if she knew I was posting this- so don’t tell her. I thought this shirt was freaking hilarious. It came free with their Sopranos set. Nothing says “Happy Thanksgiving” like a mom in a shirt with a bloody knife! You know what I’m sayin?

Me and my bird.

Me and P. Did you notice she went brown? It’s such a change!

Me and P again.

The Turkeys

Will and Boz throwing up their “number ones”

Will trying to get Boz to look at the camera.

This picture is freaking GENIUS! This is P doing our The Shining cover. She looks like Jack Torrence, right?

My rendition is not as good as P’s.

P and “Tony” <- another thing from the movie.

My mom got us all Advent calendars to count down to Christmas, but we’re using it to countdown to our vacation home! YAY!

Alright, so that’s that. Sorry I’m not more exciting. I had a really good weekend though. I ate entirely too much and was too lazy.

The difference between my check and Will’s.

I was actually higher! Wow.

He was so sweet and called to tell me that. It won’t ever happen again (probably), but it made me smile that he called to tell me.

More to come…

1. The AMAZING Kuwait Weather.
I felt such happiness today every time I walked outside. I wish you guys were here to feel it too. I’m trying to soak it up while I can because before I know it I’ll be sweating all over myself again.

2. Chocolate Digestive Biscuits
What am I going to do one day when we move back to America!?! Do they even sell those there?

3. The Fact That I Can Officially Say That I’m Going On Vacation Next Month
Oh Boy Oh Boy! I can’t believe next month I’ll be back home enjoying a traditional Christmas! I’m so excited about our mini-trip to Minneapolis and Christmas shopping at the Mall of America. It’s going to be so much fun.

4. The Fact That Our Jordan Trip Is Right Around The Corner
I’m getting excited about this trip as well. We really wanted to swim in the Dead Sea, but apparently it will be freezing this time of year. Bummer. I still think I’m going to try to get in, even if it’s just up to my knees for a picture.

5. Mozzarella And Tomato Sandwiches

6. “Your Ex Lover Is Dead” by The Stars
I don’t know why, but I’m liking The Stars’ album right now. It’s not typically my type of music, but I’ve enjoyed it. Plus the album name seems so poetic- In Our Bedroom After The War.

7. Everybody Loves Raymond, Season 8
We just got this season in from Amazon the other day. I’ve already seen a lot of the episodes, but they still crack me up.

8. This Upcoming Weekend.
My boss just came into our office and told us NO WORKING THIS WEEKEND- no matter how much crap we have to do. My coworker and I mentioned taking a couple things home and he said he would not approve our overtime this weekend. We are to go home and enjoy ourselves. This makes me really happy. I can’t wait for this weekend, even if it’s full of nothingness. I’m just glad Will and I will get some time to hang out doing whatever we want!

I am, however, a little nervous because I get the feeling that he’s letting us enjoy this weekend because the coming ones will be busy.

Boo.

Wait- this is a post of positives! I can’t have the above crap in here!

9. Mary Kay Satin Lips
Simply wonderful. I’m about to make the biggest MK order EVER in the coming weeks- if you want anything let me know and I’ll send it to you when I get back to the States.

10. Bench Presses With Dumbells
My women’s gym has a really bad selection of free weights, so I’m about to max out on the highest dumbell weight they have. That’s not a good thing since I won’t be able to go any heavier, but it makes me feel good that I’m getting stronger!

11. Lucy
I <3 Lucy. No dog has ever brought me more joy. She is so spunky. She makes me so mad about 80% of the time because she's always into something, but I love her so much because she's got such a little fighter's mentality. She was the runt of the litter, but she sure thinks she's a giant!

12. “Come Alive” by The Foo Fighters

13. Iced Vanilla Lattes From Starbucks
There’s a new one by my house now! Will groaned because he knows what a money pit this place has become for me.

14. Long Sleeved Shirts
I think I’m going to pull a few out to wear next week.

15. My New Jeans
HA HA I’m going to wear them this weekend. Let’s all say a prayer.

I’m so excited about starting this weekend. I think everyone in my department is. I love you guys very much. Sorry this was a boring post. I just felt so happy about not having to work this weekend-plus the fact that the weather is simply a big fat hug from God today- that I needed to get excited about the little things. I hope you do the same.

<3

You know what?

It’s been a while since I’ve done an Annoying Weekly Update!

(crickets chirping)

Okay, so annoying updates are, well, annoying- but hey it’s all I’ve got today. It’s all I’ve got unless you want to know about power tools and professional sports equipment.

Don’t ask me why I know all about those things. Trust me, you don’t want to know. Trust me, I don’t want to know either.

What’s better than an annoying post about my life full of miscellaneous administrative things I’ve been meaning to mention for the last 6 weeks?

Nothing!

So first things first.

Jacqueline! I tried to send you a Happy Birthday E-card today but the stupid thing came back to me! What’s up with that!? Why is your email eating my email and puking right back to my inbox with a big nasty RETURNED TO SENDER and PS You Smell message? Tell your email it’s in big trouble, mister. I’m just trying to wish you a happy freaking birthday for crying out loud! Anyway, since it didn’t work I’ll just tell you that the card said “You Rock” and had an electric guitar on the front (which is perfect and why I chose it since you love music). Then I wrote you a mushy I love you and happy 25 years and all that crap on the inside.

So- there.

It’s like I sent it again.

Only I didn’t.

Happy birthday! Do you want me to sing the TGIFriday Birthday Song??

I’ll spare you this year.

Next year you might not be so lucky.

Did you guys know that Jacqueline is my real life friend? She knew me when I was super chubby and had tight permed curly hair. It was a really bad time in my childhood. I remember one time I went to one of the beauty colleges to get my hair permed-

wait.

that totally deserves a side story-

Mom! What were you thinking!?! These people were 18-year-old kids that could barely drive a car and still drank chocolate milk for dinner! I know! Let’s let them PERM MY DAUGHTER’S HAIR! What a brilliant idea!! I swear, the oldest child gets totally screwed. My mom knew not to take P to a place like that- AND NOT SUPER TIGHT PERM HER HAIR because she learned with me.

Sigh.

What a crazy time.

Anyway, I remember going to the beauty school college place thing to get my chubby scalp permed and the girl there was all like, “ You’re going to be so pretty. You’re going to turn all the boy’s heads.” Obviously, she was trying to make me feel better because what she was really meaning was, “Crap. Well, I guess this is the reason why we only charge $15 for a perm. You look like a a curly haired sheep and you will definitely get some looks from the opposite sex.”

Fun times.

Anyway- back to Jacqueline.

We both had crushes on these older guys at church and would totally stalk them. Summer camp was always so much fun.

Ahh, memories.

Ironically, I dated one of those boys for over 2 years! Don’t worry, I didn’t have my tight perm during those years.

I’m getting off track. Happy birthday Jacqueline. I hope today is wonderful.

Okay, moving on to other things. Did you notice my Totally Fabulous Award that’s been on the sidebar for like 3 weeks now and has never been mentioned in my blog? No, guys, I didn’t make the thing up myself and award myself. My lovely blog friends Jenny and Kristen gave me this award. I heart you both very much. I felt really loved when I saw this on your guys’ blogs. YOU are fabulous. It’s hard to believe we’ve “known” each other for 2 years! It’s been so much fun.

Okay, so I think I’m all caught up with things I’ve been meaning to talk about but haven’t…

So on to new things.

There’s not much new going on- which is why I just went on a 10 minute tirade about my bad childhood hair decisions.

Kuwait is finally starting to cool off- a little. In the mornings all of us wimps have goosebumps as we stand outside in our short sleeved shirts in the 73 degree air. What weenies, right? It’s still in the high 90s during the day, but it feels so much better than it has in weeks past. I’m anxious for winter here. Winter is amazingly pleasant in Kuwait. I honestly love Kuwait weather 5 months out of the year. The rest of the year? That’s a different story. If you’ve read my blog for the past few summers, I think you probably know how I feel- I often refer to this place as hell. The winters, however, are so nice. They really make me feel happy. The sun is so bright and shiny, but the air is so cool and crisp. It’s a perfect combination of warm and cold.

While we’re on weather- did you guys know when I was in 5th grade I wanted to be a meteorologist? All I would watch- willingly watch of my own volition- was The Weather Channel.

Wow. That’s a doozy, huh!?

That was during the permed hair, chubby fingers stage- which explains a lot.

Then I remember my dreams were dashed in 7th grade (yep- this phase lasted a while) when we had a career fair and I found out how much math a science I was going to have to study.

I changed my mind real fast after that.

After that day I decided to aim real high in my career choice and go for things that never ever required me to use math or science.

So, that’s how I ended up where I am today.

In a round about way I guess.

I wake up in cold sweats at the thought of helping my kid with school work one day. Lord help us all. Good Lord guys, I can barely compute cutting a recipe fraction in half let alone graph an algebraic equation.

How am I still alive!?!

I guess because I don’t bake much.

Want to know something even MORE embarrassing? I couldn’t think of a state capital the other day. I felt like such a moron. State Capitals are one of those things that are DRILLED into your mind all through out school. How could I forget something like that, you know!? I swear, working has made me stupider. I’ve forgotten all I’ve learned in school. I do, however, remember the multiplication tables (here we go- back to the math thing again) because I learned them to different songs. To this day I still hum the song as I compute any sort of multiplication.

My coworker loves it.

A lot.

(not really. She threw an eraser at me the other day while I was doing it. Okay- I’m lying about that, but I think she wanted to).

I can’t imagine why I annoy her. I’m perfectly normal.

I guess this isn’t much of an update and more like a terrifying look into my strange oddities.

Speaking of terrifying!

There was this guy dressed up like the Burger King Man at my camp today. Guys- it was seriously freaking scary. I don’t know why, but the Burger King totally freaks me out. He’s like a giant in the commercials! He’s all 7 feet tall and wears tights and has this gigantic face and is always swaying… I don’t know why- but it just rubs me the wrong way. He’s a scary guy. Do kids like him? What was that marketing and promotion group smoking the Wednesday this guy got put on the drawing board?

Okay, enough randomness for today. Have a wonderful day. Stay safe! More to come…

There’s nothing that reminds you of your fatness like jean shopping.

Seriously.

I would HANDS DOWN rather go swimsuit shopping instead of jean shopping. I mean, at least when you’re buying a swim suit you know what to expect. You know you’re going to leave the store in a pissed off mood because the suit you picked out single handedly made you gain 20 pounds in one split instant. ( I love blaming stuff on clothes)

You know that your entire body will be exposed in that horrifying fluorescent light that shows every single body blemish ever. “Heeeey! I didn’t know I had a scar there!” or “Hmm, that freckle looks like Rudy Giuliani!”

You go into the situation knowing that.

Jean shopping, however, is a different story. You’re fully covered! Nothing is exposed (well, unless you try on the ultra low rise jeans and you’ve got not only the muffin top thing going on, but ALSO the half moon as well. We’ll get to that later though), yet you still leave in a terrible mood.

Explain to me how something that covers your entire body can make you so angry!?!

I hate jeans shopping.

I would rather be just about anywhere than in a dressing room trying on 40 pairs of jeans praying that maybe, just maybe one will fit- or that jeans will become extinct. I pray that too sometimes.

I become slightly holier during jean shopping. You know that whole pray without ceasing verse? Yep, I’m all over that one.

You see, jeans provide you with no “give.” You are what you are in a pair of jeans. No stretching, no “easing into them.” What they look like in the store is how they’re going to be forever, or even worse after the dryer shrinks them. Sure, eventually they start to fit a little looser- but that assumes you have the time to do 25 squats and 2 sets of 12 lunges every time you wear them! Not to mention the fact that it’s totally unacceptable to do these forms of exercise in a dressing room. Trust me, I’ve tried.

You are what you are in a pair of jeans.

Not only that, but my body is all weird. Apparently I’ve unknowingly agreed to house a school of children in various areas of my body-mostly below the waist region- and this often causes complications with trying on jeans.

Trying on anything, really.

Stuff fits in the legs and then

breathe in!

squeeze!

hop!

PRAY!

That’s what happens as I approach my hip region. Ladies, I have a normal body below the knees and above the waist, but somehow in between those two areas I think God accidentally paired me with someone that was meant to be larger. So- I’m convinced there’s a rather large lady walking around the world somewhere that has a tiny butt and cute little round hips, totally confused about her odd proportioning too. Have you seen her??

So, in short, my jeans get stuck around my hips and I have to really concentrate to get them to “slide” on. This often requires large amounts of sweat, prayer, and Shea butter. Let’s also not forget The Pants Dance. This dance is a must in all jean outings. Seriously? You need to go read that post and come back here. It really sums up what it’s like to to try on jeans. I totally made myself laugh too. I’m such a nerd.

Hmm, where would I rather be than jean shopping you might ask?

*The Gynecologist- check

* Cardio Boot Camp- check

*At a John Wayne Movie Marathon- check

That’s right, I’d rather be at all of those places compared to looking for the perfect pair of jeans.

So, because of my immense hatred for jeans shopping, I basically have to be dragged to the store, and since Will isn’t a big shopper I’m never really in a MUST BUY JEANS situation.

Until this past weekend.

Will actually forced me to go jean shopping (brave man). I don’t think he realized what a big scary grumpy mess I turn into, or else he would have brought in serious back-up.

Lucky Brand was having a buy one get one pair free sale at one of the malls here. I gotta admit- that’s a pretty good deal. That’s the only brand of jeans Will has worn since I’ve known him, so he wanted to go ahead and take advantage of the sale.

For some reason he convinced me to do the same.

I think we must have had this conversation in between sleep and consciousness, because that’s the only way I would have agreed.

Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been jean shopping people!?

AGES.

YEARS.

LITERALLY!

The last pair of jeans I bought was back in the late spring of 2005, right before coming to Kuwait. Will and I bought a pair from The Buckle from my Stillwater buddy Megan (Hi Megan! I’m glad you sold me those jeans. They’re the only freaking pair I wear ALMOST THREE YEARS LATER. Hello patheticness! Don’t disown me okay?).

I got a pair of Big Star jeans. Do they even make those anymore?

It took me a good 30 minutes to get over the “big” star name. What- were they calling me fat? Why BIG star? How come not little star or shiny star? Was Big Star the brand the chubby girls had to buy? Were there Skinny Star and Medium Star jeans too?

After that breakdown, I finally bought the freaking things- and have worn them ever since.

I bought a pair from NY & Co. last year but I totally don’t count them because:

1. They were on sale and I just grabbed them and barely tried them on- which does NOT count as jean shopping.
2. I never wear them because they were on sale and I just grabbed them and barely tried them on- and they’re huge.

So- 2005 Big Star Jeans it is. Besides, I hardly wear jeans anyway. I can’t wear them at work and it’s a THOUSAND AND FOUR freaking degrees here in the summer, so jeans are the last thing I want to wear 7 months out of the year.

Riiight, Brittny. Keep telling yourself that.

So, that’s my jean history.

Jeans are one of those crucial items in a wardrobe. They’re a big commitment. They are a major part of the “collection,“ which is yet another reason I’ve stuck with the trusty 2005 pair for so long. Plus, why would I willingly torture myself by jean shopping? I’ve already established how much I hate it.

Saturday Will and I broke my 2 year non-shopping jean streak and went to Lucky for their sale.

First of all- what in the freaking CRAP was I thinking?

We get there and the store is empty. That means we’re the only two people in proximity that might spend money- which means the sales people are practically making out with you from the instant your first foot hits the entrance.

Sales people. That’s another post for another day.

It’s like they’re starving bloodhounds and they’ve just been let loose in a meat locker.

I even think there was some leg humping too.

Anyway- enough with the starving dog analogy- you get the point, they were all over us.

I start small- just looking at the jeans Will is interested in. We discuss colors, styles, etc. Will isn’t a big shopper- he’s an “in and out” kind of guy that finds exactly what he wants and doesn’t dilly-dally. He’s quickly off to try on his jeans.

Meaning I was alone.

In a store full of hungry, blood thirsty, commission sucking sales people.

All Alone.

Alone people!

I was forced to look around.

It didn’t take long before our hungry salesman was by my side looking at my butt and sizing me up to what kind of jeans he thought I might be able to force my sausage legs into.

Just a sidenote for all you lovely sales people out there- PLEASE make me a promise, okay? When someone tells you their size

DON’T YELL IT ACROSS THE STORE TO SOMEONE ELSE as you proceed to find what you’re looking for.

My gosh! Didn’t they learn anything in their Lucky Brand Store Orientation??

So, once they found about 12 different styles of jeans in my size- and now that everyone knew my body’s dimensions, it was time for the try-on.

We’ve already established The Pants Dance, but even that couldn’t help me a few times- and the jeans were supposedly my size.

Can I please cry!?

About 2 pairs into the try-on the salesman came by my door, “How are those working out for you?”

Between a grunt and a quick exhale I muster a, “Fine,” but what I really wanted to say was, “They’re not!! They’re NOT working thank you very much!”

I mean, seriously, do they even make jeans that cover your butt anymore? No, seriously, I’m asking! Even the “normal rise” was risky business. So, not only did I have to squeeze into every pair of jeans I tried, but then I had to:

1. Make sure I could still breathe.
2. Check my vitals.
3. Make sure there wasn’t a full moon blinding everyone in sight.
4. Make sure there was no muffin top spillage.

I failed every single test.

Can’t a girl get a freaking pair of jeans that passes these four checks! GAH! Heck! I’d take 2 out of 4!

One pair would fit fine in the hips but be huge at the waist, another would barely make it past my knees, and still another would be almost perfect but too short.

I came back out to see if there was anything else I could try. I found another few pairs and hoped for the best.

I got in the dressing room and gave myself a pep talk, “Okay, Brittny. This is it. Find two pairs of jeans and you’ll never have to go jeans shopping again. Ever. Okay, I’m lying- but I promise you won’t have to for at least another two years. I don’t care what you do- just find a decent pair of jeans!”

So I did just that.

I’m almost certain that I broke every rule of Jean Shopping Fashion, but I didn’t care. I wanted to find a couple pairs of jeans I could live with, learn to like them, and be done with the whole thing without sweating buckets.

So, I’m the proud (?) owner of two new pairs of jeans I can tolerate simply so I never have to jean shop again. I left the store feeling incredibly chunky and mad at Levi Strauss. Wasn’t he the guy that got this whole jean thing started?

I don’t even remember what the things look like on me (I only tried them on twice in the store and immediately took them to the closet when we got home), so I’m sure I’ll go through this whole bad attitude, Pants Dance fiasco all over again when I finally go to wear them.

(blocking that last sentence from my mind. horrified to think of trying those stupid jeans on again)

There you have it.

Jeans.

The mocker of all women. 

Have any of you guys been to TGIFridays lately?

CAN I TELL YOU HOW MUCH I WANTED TO RIP THE HAT OFF OUR CRAZY DRESSED SERVER LAST NIGHT, JUMP UP AND DOWN ON IT AND THEN PROCEED TO THE KITCHEN TO GORGE MYSELF ON THEIR “SIGNATURE” FRIED CHEESECAKE??

I don’t know if this is solely in Kuwait or not, but they just recently changed their birthday song to

THE

LONGEST

PIECE

OF

CRAP

E

V

E

R

I pray they haven’t infiltrated the US yet.

I can only hope.

It’s an actual song. A 2 minute, 14 second song

And it’s awful,

Painful,

And loud.

I’m used to the regular old birthday song, revamped a little with clapping and some silly rhythmical change, but not an actual deafening song.

Sung every freaking 7 minutes.

With balloons that were popped to be in sync with the loud beats of the drum.

Did I mention that English is not the native language of those singing?

Painful I tell you. Painful.

Then we sat across a table of loud obnoxious junior high kids (ahh- remember those days?) who all had “birthdays.” So we had to hear it thrice more.

Happy Freaking Birthday already.

I almost went over to their table and told them I was blowing out their freaking candle and my wish was that the TGIF Birthday Song record would shatter into a million pieces.

Wow. I feel a lot better after venting!

This is a warning that Fridays is probably not the place to go after a long day of work. You seriously might go insane and wind up spending the night in the fetal position in the corner of a Q-8 prison cell.

Don’t worry, guys, I didn’t take The First Lady to Fridays.

I was busy.

She took a raincheck.

*wink wink*

Okay, so I have to tie the title into this post, right?

Aside from the MAJOR HINT I’ve given you, you’ll never guess what Will called me today!

Yep, Debra Barone.

(Hmm- Debra? Do you spell your name that way, or are you an Deborah kind of girl? Or Debora? We may never know...)

It was because I was a little yell-y this morning.

He hadn’t seen yell-y until he called me Debra Barone.

Then he saw yelling!

Okay, not really, but I did get mad! Really mad! I told him he was grounded from me doing any of his crap this week (ie: laundry, ironing, etc).

He’s not grounded, really, but I was a little annoyed.

Debra really deserves her own post, but for today I’ll spare you, and we won’t go into my psychological analysis of Everybody Loves Raymond. Maybe later.

(the crowd roars)

Alright I’m off to make a very random lunch of lemon pepper chicken tenderloins, apple sauce, and tater tots- requested by Will.

Could he be pregnant?

I need a break from thinking

RIGHT

THIS

VERY

INSTANT.

Although I don’t really have much to say (but really- do I ever??), I feel the need to step away from whatever it is that I’m doing and just chill out.

Hmm-

Chill out.

Note to self: find out if that is still “cool” to say.

Anyway, there’s not much going on worth mentioning (again- is there really ever??). I just felt the need to post.

Wait.

I already said that.

Oh well. Moving right along.

I’m so ready for the weekend. There’s really no particular reason other than the fact that I’m just ready. Ready, ready, ready.

Did I ever tell you guys that Kuwait swtiched their weekends

Ohhh

about 6 months ago??

Ha, not that you really care.

Anyway, Kuwait switched their weekends from Thursday-Friday to Friday-Saturday the first of September. So- tomorrow is my “Friday!” I’m so ready to get on with it.

What else??

Oh- if you know of any wonderful loving dog lovers in Kuwait, could you send them my way please?? Will and I are starting to stress a little about what we’re going to do with poor Bosworth and Lucille while we’re in Jordan next month. Boarding is outrageous here, so we’d really prefer not to.

See!?

SEE!?

This is why we need friends, Will!

I highly doubt we’ll be able to meet and become best friends with the couple I’m obsessed with right now. So, we’re going to have to suck it up and either donate Boz to science research or board the doggies.

I’m still holding out for our best friends, but don’t worry- I won’t dump the dogs on them. We both know that if I did that they’d run screaming and never want to see us again the second Boz hiked his leg and peed on anything that looks remotely close to a tree or fire hydrant.

Or really, anything at all for that matter.

Poor Boz.

We started sticking his nose in the pee and telling him “no” lately.

Are we bad dog parents?

I read to do that somewhere…

I hope you’re not calling PETA right now.

Anyway- it just makes you think, you know? I mean, you’d never do that to your kid- so why stick your dog’s nose in pee?

Ahahaha- sorry, I just had a visual of doing that to a kid.

I’m a nerd.

Okay, back to the matter at hand.

I don’t know if it’s working, I hope so. We’re not very consistent- and as we all know- consistency is key.

The Gooolden Key.

Wow- this is a really dumb and random post.

Anyhow (hmm- let’s count the times I say “anyhow” or “anyway” in a post! It’s quite frightening I’m sure), as you can see, I’m a little scatter-y today. I needed this release though. I feel a lot better!

Happy Hump Day! More to come…

I think I’m starting a tradition.

This week’s confession deals with something totally stupid (I guess that’s why I have to confess).

I’m afraid of the blue tupperware container in my work refrigerator.

Not just afraid.

Terrified.

There. I said it.

I am seriously scared of the blue tupperware container in the office fridge.

If only I could insert a picture of it right now… that would be the best of all.

Okay, here’s the story.

The week Will went home for his big OU-Miami game, I had gone grocery shopping for me and P. I got lots of good stuff that Will normally doesn’t like to eat. I had made a tomato, cucumber, and feta salad for me and P one night and decided to make enough for me to take to work the next day. What a smartie, right? So, I put the remaining portion of the salad in a blue tupperware container and brought it to work with me.

Well, unfortunately I got extremely busy that next day. So busy, in fact, that I forgot to eat lunch! My poor salad was abandoned and neglected. I had totally forgot about it.

That was 8 1/2 weeks ago.

You would think after a day or two I would have thought, “Oh Yeeeahhh! I forgot about the blue tupperware container in the work fridge!”

Only I didn’t.

Then the weekend came.

Then Ramadan hit in full force and I barely used the fridge because of my fasting coworker.

So, before I knew it- a month had passed without any regard for the blue tupperware container of feta, cucumber, and tomato salad in the fridge.

Then one day, I remembered.

I remembered and thought to myself, “Oh wow- that’s really sick! I’m going to have to get that out of here!”

And that was about all that occurred.

I closed the fridge and went on with my day. The container never left its little nook on the right hand side of the fridge. It seemed so happy, so content to stay and grow. Why bother it?

So now it’s been over two months. Now I’m just sickened by the thought of actually picking up the container for fear that it has grown arms and will, in one split instant, swallow me whole to mold and spore and spawn with the remnants of what was a cucumber, feta, and tomato salad.

Every time I open the fridge now, it’s like this huge glaring reminder staring back at me. It’s as if the cucumbers are knocking on the lid saying, “Hey! I’m beyond slimy! Get me the crap out of here! I hate feta! I hate feta!” and then they try to get the tomatoes all fired up as if to start a riot.

And I simply respond by shutting the fridge door.

The way I see it, I don’t have many options. I could take the container home- stinking my poor coworkers out the whole ride to the apartment.

I could throw the whole container in the trash- stinking my entire office up for quite possibly the next 4 months- or at least until Christmas.

Or-

I could leave it be.

I’ve opted to leave it be.

Yeah, yeah, so the reality is that I do have more options, but hey- why mess with a good thing?

So now everytime I open the fridge I let out a little groan about how incredibly uber DISGUSTING it is for SOME FREAKING INCONSIDERATE SICK MORON to leave crap in the fridge FOR FIVE MONTHS!

I love how I blame it on someone else.

The trouble is that it’s just me and this other girl in my office.

I can’t be sure, but I think she knows it’s me.

So what’s a girl to do? I’ve simply ignored it for 8 1/2 weeks now, and as each day passes the more grossed out I get!

Sadly, I think my poor blue tupperware container is going to have to take a trip to the outside dumpster.

Eh…

What’s one more week? 

That’s where I want to be.

I’m not exactly sure where that is for me. Bahrain? Dubai? Heck, I’d settle for on the couch watching a King of Queens.

Once again I’m working on the weekend. This is the 3rd weekend in a row, and the 4th time in 5 weeks.

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not (HA), but I’m starting to sound a bit like a work martyr.

Can I just tell you how much those people SERIOUSLY annoy me!?

They come around your office all huffy and start touching stuff on your desk as they proceed to tell you HOW

INCREDIBLY

BUSY

THEY

ARE.

“I’m so stressed.

I’m so overworked.

I stayed at the office until 9:00 last night.

I’m SO IMPORTANT AND IRREPLACEABLE.

I can never go on vacation because I’m SO IMPORTANT.”

Sigh, sigh, sigh, boo hoo, etc.

Those type of people make me want to create a paper airplane out of my timesheet and fly it right into their freaking forehead.

Can I just say something? If someone has to tell you all those things about how important and stressed they are, they’re probably not.

However-

I realized last night that I’m sort of starting to sound like that, and trust me, I’m not important.

Are you guys getting your paper airplanes ready every time you see “This Isn’t CTU” is assigned at the bottom of my posts because you know it’s about work? Hey- I wouldn’t blame you.

This week had been a nightmare. It’s left me wondering if this is how life is in this field, or if it’s just my crazy company.

I don’t know what I want to do. I think next week I’m going to go into my manager’s office and really level with him and ask him if this is how life is in this field. If the answer is yes, I’m going to have to really think about whether or not this is a field I enjoy enough to sacrifice a large amount of down time for. If Will and I ever decide to have a family one day, I’m not going to want to feel incredibly guilty for leaving at 5 everyday like a normal person. I won’t want to feel guilty for “letting the team down” by taking a vacation. I feel that way now and I don’t like it. It will only be worse with kids one day. My heart hurts not seeing Will too. On normal week nights we only have one hour together, and lately we haven’t had even that.

I don’t even know where to begin!

The sheer thought of trying to verbalize everything I want to say and at the same time maintain some anonymity exhausts me.

I’ll just say that this week has been a bad week! I’m tired of my department looking like freaking idiots. That’s another story, though.

Will and I got into an argument about the whole situation last night. See, you might remember that I recently moved into a new office (Remember? The one that’s a door closer to the BIDFY?). When I moved into this office I started working lots and lots on new things. I didn’t get a promotion, but I did get a raise. At the time, my managers also posted two positions that were the same level as the girl that I’m currently working with. Well, because of the pay and experience required (Ha- not to mention the fact that the job is in KUWAIT and no one is going to leave their cushy jobs in America for that) they’ve had a hard time filling them. So, they’ve sat open for months and have thrust me into the position of having to do a large majority of the job without the pay or title.

At the time it was called a “learning experience and training ground” for me. Honestly, it was. I truly consider this place my training ground. However, with all this weekend work and the added responsibilities that have continually been squeezed of me, I’m starting to feel that I should apply for one of those positions. I don’t want to get taken advantage of because I’m “learning” when in all actuality I’m “doing.”

Will has been on my case for weeks.

My mom has too.

So has my coworker friend.

So has Theresa.

Want to know a secret?

I’m terrified to apply.

Yep- a chicken.

I’ll admit it.

However, this week was the last straw. I almost threw my application at my boss yesterday! I didn’t, though.

The truth is that this job requires 3-5 years of experience and I only have one. However, I’ve been with this company for two years. I know the workings, I know the people, people know me. I know the job, and heck- I’ve been doing it for 6 months now whether I’ve got the experience on paper or not. If I’m good enough to be doing it anyway, why not at least be compensated?

That’s what Will says anyway.

I feel like I’m in a quandry, and all I want to do is run to the nearest faraway place.

I prayed about it and feel like the confirmations of others telling me to appy without me even bringing it up has been one reason I feel maybe I should apply. However, I still feel uncertain. I started reading Jonah the other day, and I keep thinking to myself, “What are you trying to tell me? Is this my Ninevah? Am I in Tarshish and am supposed to be somewhere else? I’m I reading WAY too much into this story and just need to chill out?” I want God to call me up on the phone, darn it. I guess the awkwardness of turning in my tiny little resume to someone who will have to turn around and say “no” makes me sick to my stomach.

Meanwhile, the work keeps coming and there seems to be no end in sight. Things are constantly coming our way and I’m anticipating many more added responsibilities.

Can I switch gears for a few minutes and tell you guys a little side story??

I’m going to tell you what put me over the edge yesterday, and oddly enough it has nothing to do with work really.

I always get dressed up for work. Honestly, I think it’s ridiculous to have to get so dressed up when it’s a million degrees and a stand storm is blowing the desert all around you at 50 mph- but I still do it. Anyhow, I always try to look nice at work. Half the people at my company are over 55, have gigantor beer bellies that hang from their short tight little polos that go oh-so nicely with their unbrushed teeth and 3 inch long neck hair protruding out of the collar. It has nothing to do with money, they get paid just fine. I would never ever in a million years say something like that out of an ugly heart- trust me. SO- keeping that in mind- Thursdays (my “Friday) I like to dress down a little. Yesterday I wore a pair of khaki cargo pants and a fitted AE tee. Nothing fancy, but also- not slobbish.

My boss comes in and starts telling me about a meeting we’re about to have. I asked him if I needed to do anything for it and he said, “I don’t know Brittny! I just don’t know! By the way, glad you can get dressed up for the meeting today!” and storms out.

That went all over me. Granted, we had a horrible morning dealing with a slew of different issues, but still- that doesn’t warrant such a comment, does it? It just made me so mad. I was already stressed because of work, and angry about having to come in today, and then that comment just really annoyed me. I can take work criticism, but why say something about how I’ve chosen to present myself to the world if it’s not necessary? You know?

Okay, so that was my side story.

Back to what I was talking about before…

All-in-all, I still think I might apply for this position for experience sake. It’s just a matter of getting the courage to bite the bullet and do it! I’ve been saying I’m going to for weeks but have been way too nervous to do it. I’m such a wimp sometimes. I hate that.

I’m sorry for droning on about work. That just seems to be my life right now and I feel as if I’m at a bit of a crossroads. Not a big one, but one that requires a decision. All I know is that I really want to go home today. Really, really badly. The more I’m stuck at work on my days off. The more I let this job dictate my schedule and change my routine… the more I skip going to the gym or forgetting to do things because I’m scattered… the more I begin to hate what I’m doing and I really don’t want that because I like what I’m doing. I just need a break from it sometimes.

All I want to do is run to the nearest faraway place today.

I’m back to work now. You can refrain from throwing those timesheet airplanes.