Yes, I was there.

We drove down to Dallas Friday afternoon to cheer on the Sooners- and subsequently watched them lose on Saturday. Sure, I could talk offense with you, or Sam Bradford, but really? Why waste a good internet space?

My point exactly.

Perhaps the biggest travesty is the fact that I didn’t even get a fried snickers out of the whole ordeal. I seriously anticipate those things like a junior high boy encountering his first set of junior high girl lips.

Seriously. I LOVE. LOVE. LOVE those things.

And once a freaking year I get the opportunity to have them. And I missed it this year. All because I didn’t get one before the game and we darted out of there after the stupid Sooner loss. Can I blame this on them?

Let’s.

So can we just move on? I had this whole cutesy post in my mind about Rivalry Week, but with the loss (and lack of fried snickers) I think it’s best to tuck it away for next year.

Assuming we win.

Moving on.

If I recall correctly I promised you guys a B-Love moment, yes?

So last Friday the group I work directly with went out to lunch. In addition to “the group,” the vice president of our section as well as the director, program manager, and my boss accompanied us. So, although it was a casual lunch there are still certain things that just aren’t appropriate to discuss over grilled fish with the VP, you know?

To set it up, to the left of me is my coworker that I work most closely with. Directly in front of me is our director- and on one side of him is the VP, and on the other is the program manager.

So everyone is talking, no big deal, and somehow the conversation goes to dancing. Who knows how, and really it’s irrelevant. It gets mentioned that none of us (the girls at the table- one being my boss and the other being the person sitting right next to me) danced at the Christmas party last year. My boss and coworker friend quickly remind everyone at the table that they did in fact dance at the Christmas party.

I, however, did not.

See, I have very strict rules about dancing. Rules perhaps I will share with you all in another post. Rules that include never, ever dancing at work functions.

I live by these rules and they cannot be broken.

Anyway- it is because of these rules I did not dance at the Christmas party.

That and no other reason.

“Brittny, didn’t dance,” someone said.

And then all of a sudden, with no lag in response time, with no thought of the implications of the reaction, my coworker spewed, “That’s because Brittny was drunk.”

Silence.

Mortification.

Awkwardness.

Laughter.

Hello VP of my office, director, and BOSS! Your apparent alcoholic employee will be tipping back a flask of tequila in the bathroom now.

My face got so hot and I literally started to sweat. I looked over at her and she looked at me and immediately said, “I’m so sorry! I have no idea why I just said that!”

And then for the rest of lunch that was all that was discussed.

Nice.

For the record?

So not drunk at the Christmas party. Sure I had some wine, but I was no where near inebriation. More like what I like to consider as “Brittny Plus.” But I mean the more you’re at the table swearing you weren’t drunk, the more people think that you were, you know?

”Sure we believe you. You weren’t drunk. Riiight.”

Ugh.

After the awkward laughter, and “I’m so sorrys” from my coworker, it was finally time to go.

Thank God. There are just some things you don’t want your bosses to know about you, and that? That is definitely one of them.

I can’t help but cringe every time I think about it.

As well as every time I see those people in the hall.

Can I please be sick at the Christmas party this year?

Better yet, I think we should have our own Christmas party?

Apparently I’m lots of fun.

(ha ha)

So tomorrow I’m headed to Colorado for a quick overnight trip. I think it was snowing up there earlier last week, but thankfully I just checked the weather and it looks like it will be pretty decent. How much would it suck to get stranded, right?

That’s my only news right now.

Crazy thought- but how about I try to post multiple times this week like a normal blogger!? Great idea.

Let’s cross our fingers that I don’t suck.

Boredom will make you do crazy things.

Like eat.

Or post for no good reason.

Or watch totally stupid crap on TV (Hello MTV True Life!).

Or quite possibly the worst of all-

Facebook.

I know.

How dare I speak ill of our beloved Facebook right?

Ha- don’t worry, I’m not.

Truth be told I think I’ve spent more hours on there the last month than I have my entire Facebook “career.”

Heh.

Facebook Career.

But something gets terribly skewed when you’re so.incredibly.bored and sit online for hours despite having plenty to do.

(cough- cleaning)

You start on the homepage looking at all the updates.

Then you go to your page (for the billionth time) to see who’s left you a comment.

And then you go to a few of you favorite friends’ pages and say hello, see what’s been going on etc.

And then you sit there.

Bored again.

You could clean.

Who are you kidding? You’d way rather sit in front of a computer screen than face your laundry pile.

You could go for a walk.

Eh… fresh air is overrated.

So once again you’re in front of the computer screen.

And then it happens.

You start looking at all your friend’s pages.

You begin looking at all their posts, their pictures, and their friends.

There’s no nice way to put it.

You’re facebook stalking.

The more friends you look at the crazier you get. It’s like this switch flips on and you’ve become this crazy ex girlfriend sitting outside your Facebook friend’s house waiting for them to come home from their date so you can size up the girlfriend’s car and hair and shoes.

It’s like you’ve become the creepy guy that calls your crush a million times but every time she pics up the phone and says hello you panic, chicken out, and hang up.

It’s like you’re BE FRI part of the BEST FRIENDS necklace and are watching to make sure that ST ENDS is not cheating on you.

You’re completely out of control!

Sigh…

As you can see, I’ve been way too bored the last few days. Although I don’t think I’m anywhere near the crazy ex girlfriend facebook stalker status, I must admit I’ve logged a lot of hours on that poor site. It’s like I’m studying for an MFA- and it’s not a Master of Fine Arts. It’s a Master of Facebook Activities.

Thankfully I can say I have never gotten into the whole, “So and So wants to invite you to have a drink on them! or So and So thinks you’re the 9th nicest person they know! Vote for them too!” So, I mean my Facebook activity could most definitely be far worse I suppose.

Right?

It’s like this awful drug that keeps reeling you in! You want to stop so bad. You want to stop and be a productive member of society but you’re so tempted by that high. That “one last hit” on someone’s wall…

it hurts so good.

So, I’m trying to quit.

Okay, I’m lying. I’m not trying to quit.

Although I’d be a genius if I could invent a patch for quitting Facebook.

Hmmm....

Anyway- I really need to tear myself off of the computer a little more so I can be more productive this fall.

I could take up knitting.

Or basket weaving.

Or sopapilla making.

Or maybe just learn how to spell “sopapilla.”

...

Or I could just stay on Facebook.

I could do that too.

Maybe I’ll try to quit another day. That sounds like a plan.

See you on your wall (or outside your house).

I swear I’m only kidding about the house part. I’m not a Facebook stalker.

Hey I saw that look! I’m not and you know it. Scouts honor.

<3

An interesting phenomena has occurred at the B-Love house this past week, and every time I think about it I laugh.

I’ve found the perfect babysitter for Will so that I can play on our new iMac.

It’s called fantasy football.

Yes, I realize this is no new babysitter, and something that occupies an exorbitant amount of time of Will’s life during the fall months. However instead of being annoyed with it I’ve come to embrace it.

Well… for the most part anyway.

The funny thing is that Will thinks he’s found the perfect babysitter for me.

The iMac.

He figures he can stick me in the office to play on our new computer and iChat with my sister and I’ll be content for hours- and he’s pretty much right.

Only we all know who’s really getting one over on the other person, right?

(incase you’re wondering- it’s me).

Um and as a side note, do you guys remember The Babysitters Club books? Good times. I was so in love with those girls and used to want to have a club with my friends just like theirs… Do you think it counts if you and I start our own adult version of The Babysitters Club and use things such as NFL Sunday Ticket, Playstation 3, and pizza to occupy our husband’s time while we go shopping? Is that bad?… Don’t answer that.

The madness begins this weekend. If you’ve known me for a while you know that “the madness” refers to football season. Both pro and college. They both consume Will’s life, and for the next few months I become a football widow. Will galavants around with his mistress (football) from September to January, fully consumed with each point scored, each stat, and every matchup.

And I no longer pretend to “get it.” Because although I fully understand his passion for the sport, I’ve given up on trying to understand the obsession behind it.

I have to admit, though, I’m a little jealous of Will this weekend. He and Ross are going to the OU-BYU game at the new Texas stadium- which I think is going to be pretty amazing.

Don’t feel bad for me though, I’ll be having plenty of fun myself. I’m spending the weekend with my mom and sister and get to see my sister’s apartment, school, and everything else. See? More babysitters. I’ve got Will occupied with the game, he has me occupied with my family.

It’s a beautiful thing.

Oh and don’t worry- this doesn’t mean we’re not getting any quality time in together. We still have season tickets, remember? I’ll be alongside him for plenty o’ games this year you can count on that. Plus who could forget OU-Texas

and OU-Nebraska (!!!),

both out of town trips which I’m very excited about.

It all balances out and we’re both (much) happier for it. I’m not a nagging wife, and (in my mind at least) he’s not some crazed football fan. Who am I kidding? We know that’s a lie. Well- at least this way I’m a tiny bit removed from it.

Hey- at least he never paints his chest.

It’s the small things really.

<3

It never ceases to amaze me how often I watch Will and I following the patterns and behaviorism of our parents.

For instance, the other day we were talking about how it was taking someone freaking for.ev.er to order at the Taco Bueno drive-thru. I’m making all of these jokes and being goofy and then Will randomly spouts out, “Maybe she hasn’t had much experience with drive-thrus,” all serious and with great thought as if he was concerned about her social well-being.

...

I was more just complaining- but okay, if you want to get all serious on me.

“That sounds exactly like your dad!” I said, all creeped out.

Weird.

Or me.

If you irritate or annoy me you better be darn sure I’m going to let you know about it!-

under my breath and while I’m walking away of course.

Ugh! I hate passive aggressive people.

Ding Ding Ding- hello Brittny, welcome to your. life!

Sigh.

Anyway- it’s just funny to me how much we tend to resemble our parents from time to time, and I’m sure it becomes even more surreal after having kids

(Although, after today’s episode of MTV True Life: I’m Pregnant I’m pretty sure Will and I are pretty much on the same page of not having kids for a very long time.).

So I tell you all this because Will and I finally purchased a coffee table last weekend! We had to order it so it wasn’t ready until this weekend. We brought it home last night and decided around 10:30 to begin assembling it.

Oh- and I should probably mention that 10:30 is about our bedtime, so anything after that time can be equated to a drunk person trying to operate heavy machinery or a blind person giving you a perm. We’re simply not at our best after 10:30.

So we Will began working on the coffee table while I stood around offering moral support. The bottom of the table is a rich, dark, bronze-y metal so getting the screws to line up just right and fit the screws was sort of a challenge.

Oh- I guess I should probably show you the table so you know what I’m talking about. How rude of me!

Here’s our new table. Chateau Rustique. I really like it. This picture doesn’t really do it justice. I’ll have to take a picture of the living room for you guys at some point.

Anyway- it’s just so funny to me how long it took Will to put the table together. He is such a perfectionist. One of the screws… nuts?… I have no idea. Screws! Yes- screws.  Anyway, one of those were stripped so Will had a hard time getting it to fit properly into the table. It took for.ev.er. I thought it was fine and perfect but Will, the “handyman” just like his dad, thought it could be better. I thought I was going to go crazy.

So- an hour and a half later my perfect coffee table was finally assembled.

I’m very pleased with our table. I am sort of afraid that it’s too big, but it might just be the fact that we spent a year without a coffee table and now I just need to get used to having one around.

I’ve already started to notice one thing about having this coffee table.

It’s another surface.

Another surface for Will to spread all of his junk atop.

That means more room for stupid crap mail and football magazines and newspapers.

Cringe.

His dad is a big time stacker of crap on surfaces.

Will is the same.

We have this gorgeous desk we bought last year which should really be displayed, only it’s hiding behind piles of Lord knows what.

I blame Will’s dad for this, you know.

My saving grace is that my parents are visiting next week and it will give us a good opportunity to overhaul his piles and organize everything the way it should be.

Let’s just hope it remains that way. Like father, like son I suppose.

Here’s to hoping.

I locked myself out of the house this afternoon.

But wait- there’s more.

There’s always more.

I keep waiting for a time in which my bad fortune no longer follows me, however that time has yet to come and once again reared its ugly head in the form of a locked door today.

Let’s get started.

Okay. So today is Will’s birthday. Yay for Will’s birthday!

I was determined to make today great.

Which was my first mistake.

I should know by now that if I’m out to make a day great something is lurking around the corner to squash my plans.

Will I ever learn?

Work was really busy all morning and I really needed to work through lunch, however I thought it might be a good idea to run home today, check on the doggies, and grab a quick lunch- which is what I did.

As I finished my lunch I noticed it was raining pouring outside. I thought I better get an umbrella to take with me to avoid the downpour, only I realized my umbrella was in my car- and Will had my car today.

Aha! I remembered I had a random umbrella out in the garage. So- barefoot and all I ran out to the garage (closing the door behind me, of course) and grabbed the umbrella. As I went to enter the house it happened.

The door wouldn’t open.

I then began to feel a little panicky, sick to my stomach and started experincing that yucky upper lip sweat.

I pryed and jolted and yelled (you know- because yelling always unlocks bolted doors) but nothing happened.

I then got the genius idea to use a screwdriver to leverage the door between the frame.

Um, the terrible dig marks in the door frame clearly yell, “That wasn’t a good idea you freaking moron!!!”

Yeah- so don’t do that.

So then I began to get totally irrational and ridiculous. Like a mad woman. “I know, I’ll run and thrust my body against the door to force it open!”

Okay- so I didn’t really do that, but trust me- I was quite irrational nonetheless.

So… what to do, what to do…

I had a pair of nasty old tennis shoes and a pair of tacky black cheap-o flip flops.

Choices, choices.

I lifted the garage, opened my umbrella and started knocking on doors up and down my street.

In the rain.

The pouring rain.

In a pretty white dress.

A pretty white dress.

In tacky black cheap-o flip flops (I figured that went better with my dress… in that trashy sort or, “I like to dress up but have no regard for what I wear on my feet” sort of way).

No one answered.

Why would they? They were al at work- where I needed to be.

Up and down the street. Finally! Someone answered. This woman across the street had just had a baby and was home- thank God for your baby woman! It was if God allowed you to have your kid so you would be home at this exact.moment.in.time.

Okay- so maybe not, but it did feel a little like a divine moment after trudging up and down my neighborhood in the pouring rain, pretty white dress, and tacky flip flops.

Anyway- she was gracious enough to let me in and use the phone. I called Will- who was not in town today (of course!). He told me to call a locksmith and work it out that way.

Oh- and he was annoyed that I managed to lock myself out.

Happy birthday honey!

Anyway, the lady told me that she could just go ahead and take me back to work so that I wouldn’t have to wait for a locksmith and pay for him to come out. I thought it was so nice of her to offer. I have very nice neighbors. I graciously accepted, took my tacky flip flops, got in her car and went back to work.

As we rode back I realized that there were a few bad things I had failed to think through when deciding not to call the locksmith.

1. My purse was in the truck, totally exposed for all the world to see and steal.

Genius Brittny.

Will tells me time after time, “Brittny- bring your purse inside and don’t leave it in the car!” And for once in my life he was so very right (actually, he’s always right about this one...). My freaking locked house was beyond safe at this point. I could most certainly confirm all doors were locked! Sigh…

Then there were the doggies.

The doggies stay in a kennel all day long because you may remember they’re quite naughty and cannot be trusted to roam around the house all alone.

Just recall this post or this one or this one.

Good times.

Anyway- they’re bad doggies and cannot be trusted.

And I had left them in the house.

All alone.

Home alone doggies.

To roam free.

And chew my wood.

And the shoes I was wearing as of 11:30 this morning and should have been wearing as I was riding to work.

I could just imagine what was happening to my house.

What a mistake to leave them out!

Sigh…

Will loved finding that out.

Oh- and I didn’t tell him. I just let him come home and be surprised.

Surprise! Happy birthday!

Anyway… it’s been quite a day.

Will picked me up from work and I felt back because I had to have him drive me to get his cake oh- and I had intended to get his birthday card on the way home too. Opps.

So- there you have it.

There’s probably a ton more I’m leaving our and need to share but Will wants me to watch “Dating in the Dark” tonight because this guy on his favorite sports talk radio was talking about how funny it was.

I think it’s weird.

But hey- it’s his birthday, and I did leave our kids home alone today.

Oh- and locked myself out.

Let’s not forget that one.

Genius. 

There are two things in life you can be certain of:

Death

and

Taxes.

I think right about -> ______ there is where I’m supposed to insert some sort of pithy comment or remark about this subject, but sadly I have nothing pithy so share today.

More like lamenting.

I won’t get into all the terrible details but let’s just say Will and I got this huge random surprise in the mail this past weekend.

Um- and since we’re both alive you can probably guess it’s not the death part I speak of.

Although… it sort of felt like that. I began to feel all claustrophobic and itchy and sweaty as if I were trapped in some cheap velvety low quality wood coffin.

Good times.

Anyway there was this big misunderstanding (Um that’s my cute and polite explanation of what happened. If we were discussing this issue with you in person I would definitely not say “big misunderstanding.” I would instead say something that would probably make you blush a little.) and much to our surprise we owe taxes we thought we had already paid.

Like I said- a “big effing misunderstanding.”

Good times.

Oh- and it’s Monday.

Oh- and it’s freaking hot.

Oh- and it’s supposed to storm tonight.

Wow! This day just gets better and better. Okay- I realize I can’t blame all my troubles on Monday, but it just feels so darn good!

Don’t you guys sometimes seriously miss the days of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and naps on the blue cushy kindergarten mats? It’s days like today where I do.

Actually, it’s days like today where I think, “Seriously. What in the HELL am I doing living here!?! Why am I here!? I could be back in Kuwait away from all this stupid ‘real life’ trouble and crap.”

I’d be lying if I haven’t been thinking that a.lot. lately. I guess it’s normal. I mean we seriously found this amazing “loophole.” Where the real world worries are distant memories. I realize that what we had wasn’t exactly normal and that what happened to us this weekend happens to people all the time, but it’s days like today, when Uncle Sam has kicked me square in the stomach when I was already down- and wearing my Sunday best- that I really wish we never even moved back.

I realize we moved back probably at the worst time ever- which is something I often have to remind myself- and a lot of people are experiencing the same things we are. I also truly believe everything worked out so perfectly to move back and was definitely of God. I’m still not sure of how it fits into “the master plan,” but I know I had a peace about coming back.

I also know I love my job and where we live. I’m very blessed. However, I’m not going to lie- days like today seriously make me miss life in Kuwait.

Oh- and days when I have a messy house. So you know… like Monday thru Sunday (ha ha).

Sorry to vent. It’s just been a seriously lousy day and has me bummed. “Big misunderstandings” suck. I know we’re not the first to experience them and we’ll certainly not be the last. I know everything will work out and we’ll be okay, but I just felt the need to blow off some major steam.

You know- because I know how much you love hearing about other people’s problems when you have a slew of your own!

More typical Brittny posting to come soon. I’m traveling this week and you may remember what happened last time I travelled. Who knows what’s bound to happen!

More to come.

<3

There are times in my life where I really believe things happen to me simply so I will get off my duff and post about them. It’s as if the “blogging gods” look up from their golden computers and say,

“Hey! That ‘B-Love’ girl hasn’t posted in a while. What’s her problem!? Writers block? I guess she needs us to help our out. We’ll give her something to write about and make her so afraid of it happening again that she’ll continue to post on a regular basis to avoid our wrath. Muahahahaha” <- a giant strike of lightening flashes behind them and they all rub their hands together all evil-like…

And then the lightening hits their servers and they all cry and put their nerdy glasses and pocket protectors back on and try to remedy the problem.

Oh- but not before cursing me, of course.

So- yesterday that’s exactly what happened. It has been a while since I’ve posted- which of course translates into some sort of calamity. I should have known some sort of awful moment was lurking around the corner for me! I can’t go a week or more without posting and not have something happen to share.

We went to visit Will’s family for father’s day yesterday. We decided to have an early lunch, so we hopped in the car and headed to the restaurant. Pat and I sat in the backseat, while Will and his dad sat up front. As we pulled into the restaurant Will’s dad thought it would be nice to get the car door for me. He opened the door- and then it happened.

However, before we discuss “it,” I should explain something so the incident is clearer. I’m pretty low maintenance on the weekends. I try to do as little as possible to get myself ready. I’ve also become a big cotton skirt and dress wearer during the summer. They’re so comfortable and breathable and easy to throw on and look decent in… they’re amazing. Oh- and they’re even better when you’re feeling gigantic because they hide your fat and somehow make you feel a little better about yourself.

So- that being said, I was wearing a flowy black cotton skirt.

As Will’s dad opened the door a giant wind, what I have now begun to call, The Great Wind came upon us all. I swear it was so windy I saw a Chihuahua fly right past me. The wind angrily howled all around us- and before I knew it, the wind had somehow crawled underneath my skirt and raised it all the way up against my back- thereby exposing my entire lower body- black underwear and slightly hail dented legs for the whole world to see-

Oh and right (and I mean RIGHT) in front of my father in law!

Yes- go ahead and cringe. You can even scream if you want to, I know I wanted to.

Oh- and to make matters way, way worse- not only has Will’s dad seen downstairs- he’s also seen upstairs too. You may recall this post in which he saw me in my leopard print bra?

Yeah- I pretty much wanted to bawl my eyes out of embarrassment, and gouge his mind’s eye out of its socket.

I’m sure you understand.

So I grabbed my skirt and ran straight to the bathroom and tried to gain my composure. I was so so so mortified!

Mortified.

So what do I do? I run and tell someone what happened, you know, because that’s the totally normal thing to do- have something awful happen to you that you want to forget but run and text someone the whole story. Brilliant.

So, I texted P.

I kept thinking to myself, “Maybe he didn’t see?” Maybe I blinded him with my ghastly white legs so he wasn’t able to see a thing! I knew I hadn’t been tanning for a reason. I just kept thinking of ways that maybe I was overreacting and it wasn’t that bad.

But it was that bad.

I realized I couldn’t stay in the bathroom the rest of the day and that eventually I would have to come out and expose myself to the world. (<- ha ha, I’m pretty sure I had done enough exposing for one day. What I mean to say is that I needed to get out of the bathroom already and try to enjoy a meal with my in-laws.<- ha ha, that's funny. Enjoy a meal with my in-lawsIsn’t that sort of like an oxymoron?)

So- I came out of the bathroom and sat down at our booth. I always sit across from Pat when we eat- always. Always but for some reason yesterday of all days Pat took the inside and Will’s dad took the outside. Will was already comfortably sitting in his spot so I couldn’t really make a big deal about the whole seating arrangements. So- instead I gracefully sat down, directly in front of my FIL, and placed the menu right in front of my face.

Will’s dad made jokes like normal (um- NOT about what had happened, of course) and basically acted like nothing had happened which sort of made me feel better. I really wanted to believe he hadn’t seen my giant derriere flapping in the wind, so him just acting normal helped me to pretend that he didn’t.

Even though let’s face it- he so did.

Let’s just say yesterday’s lunch felt like the longest day of my life.

And let’s also say that a valuable lesson had been learned today-

No, it’s not that you should never wear skirts.

It’s not that you shouldn’t let your father-in-law open the door for you either.

It’s not even that you should have Casper white legs.

It’s that the wind is one sick, perverted, ancient old man that seriously needs to be contained.

1. The weekend wasn’t as bad as anticipated.

2. Pictures are posted and I think they turned out pretty good. I think Will needs to wear a tux everyday.

3. I never became more aware of the fact that Will and I truly and seriously treat our dogs like real life children more than I did this weekend. I listened to all our family members with kids and the little common trigger phrases they said and thought to myself, “Wow… I say that too. To my dogs. I think Will and I need help.”

4. I actually thought about kids this weekend (as in maybe having them one day down the road) and sort of freaked out but sort of did not. Long story short- I saw a lot of couples this weekend with small kids that seemed miserable (not with their children, but with their spouse) and it freaked me out. At the same time I thought about how I also know a lot of people that seem even happier with their spouse. I guess some of that could have been because of the circumstance (um I’m pretty sure traveling and having to stay up late for a family dinner can make EVERYONE grumpy). What do you think?

5. I honestly wore more makeup than the bride this weekend and felt a little ridiculous. She’s very simple and I so should have remembered that. Eh- I don’t get to dress up much so I figured I might as well do it right.

6. The AC in our truck went out. Thankfully it went out on the way home and not on the way there. I’m certain Will and I would have ended up in marital counseling had it gone out before. Have I mentioned I turn into a raging psychopath when I get hot? Probably not.

7. I felt really old Sunday when I went to bed at around 8:30.

8. I like Will’s family- despite what I say on my website sometimes. I’m pretty lucky to have his family in my life. I could definitely have worse- and realized that this weekend.

9. I didn’t even get to dance with Will at the reception. :( Do you know the last time we danced was back in 2002 when we met in ballroom dancing class!? I thought I was getting a dancer, but um- notsomuch. The 3 or 4 times they had a slow song Will was helping to get the bride’s overnight bag into Dr. Vet’s car, or tagging the car, or something else. Will and I were going to dance to the last slow song they played, but Dr. Vet and Mrs. Dr. Vet snatched us up and we danced with them instead. Oh well. Hopefully someone else will get married soon?

10. I’m beyond behind on reading and commenting on your blogs. Therefore I’m turning off comments today until I catch up. Sorry I’m a sucky blog friend but I promise to catch up soon. 

When P and I were in Olympia last year we saw something very interesting leading up to the stadium.

Cheater’s Row.

Cheaters Row was a whole entire line of statues of Olympians which- as you guessed it- were found to be cheating. They created a statue of these cheaters and on it displayed the person’s name, family’s name, and where they were from.

Everyone that was on their way to the stadium passed by these status and saw the shame these people brought to their towns.

What a disgrace for the cheater. Even today, hundreds of years later, remnants of Cheaters Row remain as a testament of those before us.

Cheater’s Row wasn’t placed outside of the stadium “just because it seemed like a good place to put these statues.” They were there on purpose. As a reminder. As a way to humiliate those who cheated. As a way for their name to be remembered- forever set in stone, both literal and figurative.

I know- YAWN. I’m killing you guys, right?

Sorry. I’ve just been thinking about Cheater’s Row a lot the last couple of days. It was not that long ago in which having your name tarnished was disgraceful and painful. It wasn’t long ago in which a person’s name meant something. When deals were made on handshakes, and when a honorable man said something and followed through.

Perhaps I’m romancing the days of old, but it just seems as though we don’t make people like we used to.

Nowadays we ("we" being used collectively as a societal whole) let TV teach our kids about God and right and wrong, school teach them about sex and politics, and their older friends about love, relationships, and doing the right (or wrong) thing.

What happened to our responsibility in society to um- do it ourselves as parents?

Yes, I realize I don’t have kids- but it doesn’t matter. I see a trend that is quite alarming and I feel it’s only going to get worse.

We raise kids to expect things- to feel as though they are owed everything and don’t have to work for things. We don’t punish criminals, which teaches our kids that really? there aren’t things such as consequences, and even if there are there’s always a loophole.

I know- you guys are totally rolling your eyes now and want to ship your kids off to my house so I can really try this parenting thing out since I sound so self righteous.

I know- I’m talking all crazy. The truth is that I’m just blowing off some steam.

Okay-

a LOT of steam.

Long story short Will and I were innocently driving home Friday night, minding our own business, and some moronic kids nailed a rock right into our truck. No reason. No justification. “They’re just kids.”

Ha- kids old enough to know better.

It’s a whole long story, but basically the father came off as this nice guy- and a “man of his word” and was going to take care of the problem, only he has conveniently been unreachable since the incident happened. We finally got a hold of him today and “it wasn’t my kid- it’s not my problem.”

Like I said- it’s a long story.

The jist of the story is- what are you teaching your kids? I’m thinking that you’re teaching them it’s okay to violate someone’s property and not have to pay any consequences. 

We did absolutely nothing wrong. We were just at the wrong place at the wrong time, and somehow the kid comes out as totally innocent and the father- a grown man-refuses to take responsibility for what happened on his property. In fact, he even changed his story and said that it wasn’t a rock- it was a hackey sack. Um, the dent and chipped paint on our truck suggests otherwise. Where is the accountability?

What happened to manning up? It’s sounds more like Will and I have a parent problem on our hands instead of a kid problem.

Can we please start making people take moron tests before we allow them to breed?

Please?

Sorry to vent. I just needed to unload somewhere- and this seems to be the lucky venue. I don’t feel like getting into the details of the story- I just needed to run my mouth about ridiculous things I have no business sharing.

I know you guys love that too (ha).

I guess I just come from a different school of thought than this guy. I probably would have fit in with society just fine a hundred years ago, and I’m sure you would too.

Only- could we please make sure we brought lip gloss, cheesecake, and iPods with us? That’s not too much to ask, right?

Monday.

I must admit, I’m in the majority of the public population which let out a groan anytime that word is uttered. If you guys are the small majority which have a pep in your step today? Well- please leave me alone until I can suck down some coffee and prepare for your cheeriness.

We had storms last night which seem to be a continual reminder of, “What in the world am I doing back here!?! I’m CRAZY.”

That’s sort of how the night goes- even when it rains here.

Living in Oklahoma is a little irritating 6 months out of the year. Anytime there’s a rain cloud, a raindrop, or a bit of a cool breeze on a hot day- you tend to freak out a bit.

You begin looking around to see if a wall cloud is forming, if your “safe place” is ready, and checking on your portable radio and flash lights.

What am I doing here!?!

The news channels don’t make you feel any better.

“Well folks- it’s awful outside. In fact- I’m pretty sure the sky is falling,” they say.

That doesn’t help someone like me- who freaks out at any sign of a storm.

Oh- and Will LOVES when it’s bad out because he has to deal with me freaking out and being absolutely unreasonable.

“We need to pull the mattress off the spare bed and be ready to hide under it!”

Yeah- I pretty much drive him insane.

I become like a wilty flower that needs a super hero to rescue her. Poor guy.

It’s like this whole “thing” with us. I truly drive him crazy.

I will say- although Kuwait was miserably hot- there was no weather.

I miss no weather.

So I’m enduring my first full spring back in America in quite a few years and have decided I hate it.

I love rain.

But you can’t simply “love rain” in Oklahoma because there’s no such thing as rain. It’s wrapped around a wall cloud or swirling winds.

Ugh.

So- although I’m not a big Monday fan. I love Mondays way more than last night’s storms- so I guess you could say Mondays don’t seem so bad?

Sure- we’ll go with that.

Now leave me alone. I need a few more cups first.