TMI Thursday: Twins, Basil. Twins.

Wahoo! It's Thursday again, which means it's time for another TMI Thursday post, brought to you by Simply T, the letter B for Booze and Bodily Functions as well as the letter L for the Lovely LiLu of Livit, Luvit.

The rules? Well they're the same every week:

"Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!"

So, I get to amuse you with another wildly inappropriate story of me doing something dumb. I know I have a lot of those, but I try to save them Monday-Wednesday and Friday-Sunday so that I can post them for you during TMI Thursdays!

Let's get down to the nitty gritty of today's TMI Thursday story, shall we?

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Manswers: Dude Looks Like A Lady

If you have no life and/or are obsessed with me (it's okay, we're all friends here) then you have actually read my About Me section and you will know that I refer to myself as "A walking contradiction." One of my contradictionalities... contradiction + personalities = contradictionalities... is my feminine vs. masculine qualities.

This dichotomy can be perfectly exhibited by my taste in television shows. I love shows on the super girly end of the spectrum: pretty much anything on Lifetime, Oxygen, TLC, WEtv etc. Give me a Saturday afternoon with a DVR filled with episodes of Say Yes to the Dress, Bridezillas, The Real Housewives, and any Lifetime movie starring Tori Spelling, Candace Cameron or any country music star, and I am happy as a clam. With a little pink bow. Because it's a girl clam. 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, you will also find my DVR jam packed with lots of shows that are decidedly "manly." Mythbusters, Untamed and Uncut, 1000 Ways to Die and every episode of SpikeTV's Manswers. I think I'm ready for my honorary penis now, thanks.


So, while engaging in my mustache trimming, crotch scratching, burping, farting Manswers marathon this past weekend, my interest was piqued by a segment during which the Manswers team explored the world of transgenderism. In this segment, they answered the viewer's question: "How Can You Tell if She's Really a He?" Providing a "sure-fire" way to determine whether your potential bar hook-up is now, or ever was packing heat at some point in the past; a method more discreet than just copping a feel, which won't get you far with too many respectable chicks. Then again, if you're not on the hunt for respectable, grope away, but just know that you run the risk of getting slapped.

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Drug Wars

I don't really have any cohesive topic to discuss this evening, so I'm just going to tell you a short vignette about something humorous that I encountered today.

So, in October I had to have my annual TB test for work. I wasn't able to get an appointment with my primary physician for several days, so I decided to head over to the Walgreens Take Care clinic to have the test done. So anyway, once I got my results I faxed them over to our main office so they could have them on file. I called them to make sure they got the fax, and they did. Done and done, right?

No, it never is, is it?

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Quidditch and Hogwarts and Muggles, Oh My!

If there is one thing I love more than anything in this world, it's a good "tween" novel. So, a while back when I read an article hyping up a new Harry Potter theme park? I was sold. Now, I'm seeing commercials all over the place for the grand opening this Spring for "The Wizarding World of Harry Potter" at Universal Studios Orlando.

Um. Yes, please.

See you in Orlando, BITCHES! Now if only they can start working on getting together a Twilight theme park with an Edward Cullen and Jacob Black huggable plush toy for each and every female to enter the park... Just... just find a way to make it happen!

Anyway, in other, totally non-teeny bopper related news, I just returned from seeing Jack's Mannequin at the House of Blues. Now if you must know anything about my likes/dislikes aside from tween novels and all things Pattinson and Lautner... whatever, don't judge, as of the 11th he's legal. No double standards in this house! How many college aged dudes were counting down until the Olsen twins' 18th?

Wait, what was I talking about again? Oh yeah, my likes and dislikes. If you must know anything about my likes/dislikes, you must know that in my world, Andrew McMahon is a veritable GOD. He has more musical genius in his pinky toe than the collective population of most indigenous countries.

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Apollo Anton Ohno.... OH YES! Or: In Which I Make Ridiculous Puns

Ok, so I have been unable to peel my retinas away from the Winter Olympics on my flatscreen for about 3 days... 7 days... shit, I don't even know how many days, they all seem to blend together after a while.

Every time the Olympics are on... it's the only thing I watch all day, every day. Since the invention of TiVo and DVRs I now have the advantage of taping all the events so I don't feel pressured to hold my bladder in order to catch the end of the luge event... Also, I can tape the events that are going on while I'm sleeping or working, and not miss a single second of awesome.

It's a bummer when a year is a non-olympic year - it's my personal belief that they should start hosting a Spring and Fall Olympics so that every year can be an olympic year.

What would the Spring and Fall Olympic events consist of? Here's a sample list to get the Olympic committee started on their subsequent development of the Spring and Fall Olympics:

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I'm Back!

Hi, friends!

R and I just got back from Keystone last night - it was an awesome trip.

Highlights:

• Teaching R how to snowboard and get down a blue without killing himself
• Putting aside all concept of fear and just going "balls out" faster and harder than I've ever boarded in the past - even if it resulted in a gnarly bail leaving me dazed on the side of the slope wondering if my nose was broken. It wasn't.
• Attempted and landed 2/4 jumps.
• Soaking in the hot tub after a long day on the slopes.
• Making a delicious Valentine's Day dinner for R and watching How I Met Your Mother re-runs in the condo we rented.

Also, when I arrived home late last night, I saw a small box addressed to me. Squee! It was my valentine gift from Ashalah's Be my Blog Valentine. It's basically like Secret Santa, but for Valentine's day.

My package came from Lauren, in Oregon - she sent some awesome things: The Love Actually soundtrack, A Chocolove Raspberries in Dark Chocolate bar, and a bag of coffee that smells AMAZING. I love getting mail that isn't bills, so this was definitely a nice thing to come home to. Thanks again, Lauren!

Well today is my last Photo I class, I start Photo II next week. I plan to start a flickr page or photobucket account so I can share my photos with all of you. Keep an eye out for that. In the mean time, I've got plenty of work to catch up on and class to attend, but when I return home later tonight I will post some Dear Diaries.

Sand falls through the hourglass, pages of the calendar flip rapidly, seasons change outside....
*Later That Evening*

How do you like that time elapse thing? Nice, huh? Ok, well as promised here is tonight's Dear Diaries.

4/27/95
Dear

Sorry I didn't finish this entry Sass, its just that I was reading through old entrys and I saw this one wasn't finished so I decided to finish it right now. Bye

Wow, that is an ADD entry if I've ever seen one. Clearly, I only got so far as to write "Dear" before I saw something shiny and got distracted.

May 30, 95

Yo! Sassafras! Hi! Sorry I didn't write for a while. Dude guess what! Peter Wilson finally likes me! Aieee! Hee Hee Hee Hoo! I'm doing backflips! Whohoo! O.K. enough of this foolishness. 4 more days of school. Whohoo! O.K. enough of that foolishness. Damn! Sorry I just forgot what I was going to write. Think, Think, Think. Shit! Oh well, I'm tired so I'm going to bed. Good night. See ya! Bye! Chow! See ya later! Hey I already said that. Sionara. Bye-Bye!

This is apparently when I entered my "bad-ass" phase of 6th grade. You can tell because only 6th grade thugs start off an entry with the word "Yo." Oh, but then I regress back into dorkishness talking about doing backflips (complete with drawings of loopdey-loops to demonstrate how the backflips should go). Then I realize I'm supposed to be a hard ass and I experiment with swear words for the first time (in writing at least). In fact, I think this was around the same time that I encountered some boys from school on the sidewalk after class. They were picking on me, or at least I believed that they were, so with a completely straight face I looked one of them in the eye and calmly said, "Fuck you." After that, they were all so shocked to hear the girl who never speaks a word to suddenly bust out the F-word, that they immediately stopped picking on me. It only lasted about a day, but it was totally worth it.

I Should Be Dead: In Which I Am An Insensitive A-Hole

I am currently engrossed in a marathon of "I Survived" on the Biography Channel. The concept is similar to that of the show, "I Shouldn't Be Alive" on the Discovery Channel. R keeps telling me that he thinks the show should be titled "I Should Be Dead," but he's wrong. 4 out of 5 Doctors agree.

I don't think there is much of difference between "I Survived" and "I Shouldn't Be Alive," except for the crazy-awesome reenactments of the traumatic events.

It's kind of like a car wreck or a gory movie - you want to look away, but you can't. In one episode, "Trapped in a Canyon," they show a reenactment of adventure racer, Danelle Ballengee's story.

While running in the canyon she slips and falls down three drops of 10 to 20 feet, eventually landing feet first, shattering the bones in her legs and her pelvis. They repeated that shattering pelvis scene probably 10 times - they love to do that, replay the most gruesome scene over. And over. And over. And every time I see it I throw up in my mouth a little bit. And yet, somehow I find myself continuing to watch. It's like drugs. Don't even get me started on Intervention and Hoarders or this could take a while.

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The Usual Suspects

I'll attempt to make this brief... or as brief as my verbosity will allow.

Today, I got an email from photobucket.com regarding my photobucket account. Wait, I have a photobucket account?

Kinda scared, I logged in with my typical username/password combo, and I'm in. I only had to look at it to recognize it. Back in the olden days, when we had to walk to school up hill both ways and real life was in black and white or sepia tones, when facebook, or "the book" as I occasionally call it, was still in it's infancy and people were forced to use primitive technology to share their digital photos: via email or by posting them on a photo sharing site.

Most of the pictures were from various sorority events in college with a smattering here and there of high school photos that I had scanned in. Since I forgot that I even had this account, and none of these pictures were posted on facebook (yet), finding it was a wonderful surprise, much like finding $20 in a pocket of a garment you haven't worn in a while. Looking through those photos took me on a trip down memory lane.

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TMI Thursday 2/4/2009

Hello, everyone! I've been wanting to participate in LiLu's TMI Thursday for a few weeks now, but I could never come up with anything good. This week, I am confident that my "TMI Thursday" entry will shock, appall, alienate, and scare off any current/potential readers. Yay, it's going to be FUN!

Without further ado, I present my very first TMI Thursday entry. Let's hope that this is just the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

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Very Very Very Very Very Very....

As promised, today's entry will be diary entries only. This actually works out for me, because I am exhausted...the sleep-on-the-couch method did not work last night, and I only got about 15 minutes of sleep. Oh wait, I said I wasn't going to complain. Crap. Okay, forget I just said that (don't even get all smart with me and tell me that there is a "delete" button on my keyboard).

And away we go...

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I hate to admit it...

But Tyra Banks was right.

As much as Tyra Banks annoys the crap out of me... I will admit (though not proudly) that I TiVo every episode of The Tyra Show.

Recently she did an expose on the dangers of texting while driving. In this episode she also had a segment in which she discussed the top 10 most dangerous foods to eat while driving. I looked for the full list online, but I was unable to locate it, but I will share with you what I remember.

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Okay, I guess all I needed to do was say that I didn't have anything to write about to light my creative fire.

So, as I do most days, I spent a few minutes catching up on my celebrity gossip. My celeb gossip site of choice is The Superficial. Admittedly, it's gone downhill in the past few years - the writing is not quite as clever and the site is now more about models in swimsuits and bikinis than actual celebrity gossip, but it still serves its purpose.

One of the biggest stories making it's rounds right now is Heidi Montag and her amazing technicolor dream-face. Now, personally I don't think there is anything wrong with a little nip and tuck here and there (even though the show, Nip/Tuck completely blows now.... I still watch it.)

If it helps boost your self esteem a little and makes you look/feel a bit fresher and you have the available funds, then sure - go for it. But I also think that if you can't feel good about yourself without going under the knife, you'd probably be better off spending that cash on some psychotherapy. But, off my soapbox for now. Not for long.

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Because Every Entry I Post Has to Reference The Jersey Shore

So, tonight I was watching the latest episode of The Jersey Shore with R. The opening credits feature a 2 or 3 second shot of each cast member with their name flashed across the screen. The usual suspects... Snookie, JWowww, The Situation, Sammi (The Sweetheart) - btw why does everyone on the Jersey Shore have a nickname? You may now call me TWowww. Anyway, they got to Angelina (Jolie as they called her on the show) and I looked over at R.

"I haven't seen Angelina in a few episodes. Where is she?"

"You're right, I haven't seen her either. That's weird."

So I hopped on google. Yes, I googled. I typed in "Where is Angelina from the Jersey Shore?"

The first article produced on the search list was this one: Jersey Shore's Angelina Leaves Show

So apparently she's been gone since early December. And neither R nor I took notice (and apparently we both missed the part where she packed up and moved out.)

It got me thinking about how every reality TV show cast always has to have the same band of merry men.

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Simply T and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day: or why I suck at life.

While at dinner with AC and MP last night, we got to discussing our friend CK's upcoming baby shower. The conversation about babies eventually turned to a discussion about our favorite childhood books.

MP was the first to bring up her favorite childhood book - Gregory, The Terrible Eater. It's a story of a young goat, who's parents want him to eat "like a real goat," including tin cans, boxes, and other garbage. But Gregory is no ordinary goat. He enjoys a diet consisting of fruits, vegetables, fish, spaghetti - you know, real food. Ultimately, Gregory and his parents must come to a compromise - Gregory will eat spaghetti with shoelaces mixed in and other various meals combining real food and trash - a perfect harmony between the diet of a "real goat" and Gregory's personal preference.

The underlying message here - don't be afraid to walk to the beat of your own drummer. And parents? Accept your kids, regardless of their personal lifestyle choices. Very progressive, Reading Rainbow.

Next, AC mentioned her favorite book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. You know this story - a kid has a really crappy day, one thing compounding on the next. He gets gum stuck in his hair, trips on a skateboard and drops his sweater into the sink filled with water. All before leaving the house.

Then at school, his bitch of a teacher, Mrs. Dickens, craps all over Alexander's self esteem - most likely damaging him for good, leading to a lifetime of psychotherapy. Who's gonna pay for that, Mrs. Dickens? Who!? Picasso over here says she doesn't like his drawing of an invisible castle (a blank sheet of paper - give the kid a break, he's creative!), she criticizes him for leaving out number 16 while counting, and tells him he sings too loudly. Like, way to call the kid out in front of his mates, lady. It's called mental abuse, you cruel, heartless wench! Where did you get your teaching degree, anyway?

Anyway, the story goes on - and poor Alexander's day gets progressively worse. Much like my day today. Today was my Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day.

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I'm Not Ansel Adams

I just started a photography class last week and I went out to shoot my first assignment today. Our assignment was simple: take one digital roll (48 photos) using a shutter speed 60 or greater using natural light only. Our teacher does not like flash photography. He says it "steals your soul." Heh.

Ok, so using the natural light only, I am attempting to to get in-focus photos... which... is harder than it sounds. Main reason being that it's January and the days have been gray... so, most of my pictures totally sucked and were all out of focus.

Using the aperture priority setting on my schmancy new Nikon D90, I had difficulty at times getting the shutter speed over 60. I fiddled around with my f-stop settings, but at times even with my f-stop at 1.8, I could only get the shutter speed to be 40 or 50.

So, I guess I'm not a photography prodigy. In my mind I envisioned going out, taking my 48 photos, and having them all come out with amazing color, focus and artistic vision. I just knew my teacher would recognize my genius and recommend me for a photog profile in some international publication. But, I think I can safely say that won't happen... well, until I get more practice.

I am on my way to be fitted for a bridesmaid's dress, so I won't have time to post today's diary entry until later this evening. Much love, readers.

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Summa Summa Summatime

Since I have been complaining about the cold a lot, and really, no one likes a complainer, I decided the best way to avoid complaining 'bout the frigid temperatures is to escape into a little fantasy world where it's summer all the time (Or... Southern California. Why did R and I move back? Why?). Anyway, summers in Chicago ARE. THE. SHIT. Sorry, other cities, but Chicago rules and you just drool.

The things I get to look forward to every year: walks/bikes along the Lake Michigan lakefront path, beach volleyball, Taste of Chicago, outdoor concerts, and most notably: Castaways at North Avenue Beach.

For the out-of-towners, Castaways is my favorite place in the world. It is my own personal Disneyland: The Happiest Place On Earth. It is a seasonal, summer only bar on Chicago's North Avenue beach, atop a building made to look like a giant ship. They serve bar food (Nachooooo!) and some very excellent frozen, fruity drinks. My fave? The Miami Vice - half Pina Colada, half Strawberry Daiquiri. YUM! It's also packed to the gills on a daily basis with over-tanned meat heads and their silicone breasted girlfriends.

It's like The Jersey Shore in Chicago. (I realize this is, like, the 4th post in a row that I have referenced Jersey Shore, but... I can't help it. It's so trashtastically wonderful! Gym, Tan, Laundry anyone?)

What could be better than people-watching on top of a fake boat, getting sloshed during the middle of the day? The answer, my friends, is nothing. Nothing is better than that.

Anyway, I have all these wonderful existing summer traditions, but 2010 is about new things! As of late, I have been day-dreaming about this summer and all the fun things I want to do. I thought I'd share, and maybe gather some further suggestions for 2010 summer adventures. And away we go!

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Scattered Thoughts - Who IS Burt??

I have no central theme for today's post, but I'm thinking if I just start writing, one will emerge. So, I guess this is the best representation of how my brain is working.... in real time. Blogging Freestyle, as another blogger put it. Ready? Go.

I really like Activia yogurt, but whenever I eat it I feel like I'm sending a message to onlookers that I am constipated.

Yesterday, I was driving in my car. I had to blow my nose, but I had no tissues - so I used an alcohol swab. Note to self: Buy Kleenex.

I love dogs. So much, in fact, that if a sketchy looking man pulled up in an unmarked van and told me to get in because there was a box full of puppies in the back, I probably would. No. No. I definitely would.

Speaking of dogs, I saw one on the street today wearing a sweater and duct-tape booties. They probably weren't really duct tape, but that's what it looked like to me. Not like he had a tape-leg or anything. It was really cute, but somehow I feel like dogs are humiliated when humans dress them up. R bought some Grip Trex Bark'n Boots for A to keep his paws protected from the snow and salt. A will tolerate them, but he high steps like a baby deer on ice (Deer on Ice! Coming soon to Madison Square Garden!) and hangs his head like he is so sad that he is wearing these ridiculous booties. But he just looks so cuuuuute!

Sometimes, we put a T-shirt on A during thunder storms, since he trembles and tries to hide in the closet in fear. We read somewhere that the t-shirt "hugs" the dog and makes them feel safe, thus quelling their fear of thunder. I have yet to see any results, but he looks pretty damn cute wearing a Sigma Chi Derby Days T-shirt. Heh.

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Baby It's Cold Outside

So, it's Friday. That means 2 full days of no work, and the freedom to do nothing at all. Being that it's January, and the temperatures here have dipped into single digits, we are hibernating for the winter. Add to that the foot (feet, maybe) of snow we just got, and the prospect of going out on the weekends is nil. My party clothes just aren't built for this kind of weather. Let's look at the numbers, shall we? Six inches of stilletto + 24 inches of snow = 16 inches of cold, wet leg. I hate the cold, but I love to complain about it, so it's for the best that we re-emerge to our social lives and nights out only once the ground thaws.

Staying cozy in weather like this is a must. I cannot survive hibernation without my favorite things, so I present to you:

Simply T's Guide to Staying Roasty Toasty

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Scattered Thoughts - Dumb Birds

So I've been a bad little blogger as of late. Life and my day job got the better of me. Damn you, real job! But in the past few days I've had the opportunity to do a lot of tangential thinking, and as a result I present you with Scattered Thoughts. I need to come up with a better title for postings like this, because I have a feeling that my future is filled with Scattered Thoughts topics. Why? Because that's just the way my brain works... most of the time. Suggestions welcome. Ready? Go.

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I've been M.I.A. the last few days, I know. I've been very busy making an indentation in my couch with my butt. And building puzzles with R. Yes, puzzles. Chicago temperatures have been "freeze your snot in your nose" cold, so we have been hiding out at home for the long weekend.

New Year's Eve was fun, and went off without a hitch... mostly. R made dinner reservations and said he would drive us to and from dinner. I thought about mentioning that we might have a difficult time finding parking when we got home, since we live about 3 blocks from Wrigley field right smack dab in the middle between all the Wrigleyville bars on Clark St. and all the Boystown bars on Halsted. I pushed the thought out of my mind, figuring that even on the busiest summer Saturday night, the farthest we've ever had to park from our house is about 2 blocks. Not a big deal. So we went to dinner and had delicious Sushi at Shiso followed up with a delicious fried tempura green tea ice cream. It was f-f-f-f-freezing when we left dinner, but we cranked the heat in the car and drove home. We arrived back in our hood at about 8:30 and we circled our block once to see that there was no parking on our block, so R, being the gentleman that he is dropped me off at the house since I was A: wearing a dress, and B: wearing 7 inch heels. Good boyfriend, rack up those brownie points before the end of 2009.

Once I got in the comfort of our own apartment I immediately kicked off my heels and changed from a dress to R's giant man-sweatpants (even though he had nicely laid out my own pink and white girl's PJ pants) and a t-shirt. I seize any opportunity to shed my fancy duds. Maybe it's because my party clothes are so binding. Anyone? Anyone? Clueless? Moving on.

I settled on the couch, waiting for R to return from parking the car and got distracted by the old school Twilight Zone episodes on our DVR (I think we had like 38 episodes recorded from the NYE marathon). Losing track of time, it was about 2.5 episodes in that I realized R still hadn't returned from parking the car... it was now 10:00. I got worried, but a minute later I finally received a text from R.

R: "This is insanity."
T: "Can I do anything?"
R: "Be superhuman and throw cars to the side."
T: "Raaagggghhhhh" (I think this was supposed to be my impression of me Hulking out and throwing cars)
R: "This is crazy. I even went up to our old apt... nothing" (Our old apartment, in normal weather isn't THAT far... maybe a mile North and East of our place now, but in sub-zero temperatures it might as well be 300 miles.)
T: "Oh man. Do you want company?"
R: "I would."
T: "Come get me."

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