What Was I Thinking?

Why do you taunt me so?

2011-12-12T15:52:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty sure that I would never write a blog post about such a ridiculous subject in normal life, but being 9 months pregnant, this seems to be a topic worth addressing. Of course it's about food so. . . Wait a minute, that would be pretty normal to discuss in normal life as well but there would be no paper trail. Either way, I'm taking this train and going full-steam ahead.

It's called the vending machine taunt and I hate it. It's not hard to explain because I'm sure at least 75% of the population has suffered it's wrath; the other 25% of you are eating Paleo or Jenny Craig or something similar so I'm not sure why you're on my blog in the first place. Anyway, I digress. . .

Sometimes I just want a treat from the vending machine. You can call it gross and that's fine. But sometimes I get desperate and those Pop Tarts don't actually look that bad compared to the alternative. . . a gut-wrenching nothing! Thank heaven that our work vending machine has a steady supply of Pop Tarts. . . or does it? See, that's the issue. I never know. So in my mind I've built up this processed-brown-sugar-and-cinnamon obsession only to get upstairs (which is WAY more of a hike now than ever) only to find that the regular Pop Tarts have been temporarily replaced with some other (and might I add NOT CLOSE) substitute like, I don't know, fruit snacks. Dear Vending Machine Guy: just because the package is roughly the same size, fruit snacks are not a suitable substitute for Pop Tarts! One is a baked good (sort of) for crying out loud! There is nothing even remotely "bready" about fruit snacks. What are you thinking?

The only other vending machine tragedy that is equally offensive is what I like to call Flavor Alternating. Once again, we go back to the Cinnamon and Brown Sugar scenario. Still climbing the vicious flight of stairs, I see that blue Pop Tart package as I reach the summit. But what is this? It's not Brown Sugar Goodness - it's Strawberry! I could (at this point) settle for the fruit-filled pastry if it was all there was but noooo. There, immediately behind the Strawberry concoction, is my real craving - Brown Sugar and Cinnamon - followed by another Strawberry and another Brown Sugar. . . you get the point. It's taunting me and I don't appreciate it. I, again, have come to a crossroads. Do I want the Brown Sugar bad enough to buy a pack of Strawberry as well and save it for a later date? Sidenote: please keep in mind that this would require another trip down said stairs to try and dig out more nickels from my desk drawer since the first round nearly left me bone dry to start with. Do I make camp next to the vending machine and try to coerce the next patron who likely won't buy anything with me standing there because vending machine food is "gross" to purchase the in-the-way Strawberry pastry? Or do I settle and pray that sheer vending machine embarrassment, though it haunts me currently, will allow me access to the better part tomorrow since nobody eats this stuff anyway.

The point is this, bad vending machine loader man:

First, don't replace the steadfast. If you come and all of the (insert candy of choice) here are gone, it's probably because that's what people eat so don't replace it with fruit snacks; no, it's not the same. No. It's not. Stop buying the Bit-O-Crappy candy bars that still occupy a full slot in the machine and only buy the good stuff.

Second, don't alternate flavors. There are very distinct audiences for these types of food. Regular M&M people aren't the same as Peanut Butter who aren't the same as Pretzel. You can't ask them to cross over. You are messing with nature. 'Tis better that you just don't HAVE one option than alternate options in a line in the machine. That's just cruel.

The only time either of these replacements are acceptable is if there is CLEARLY a better alternative. Food is really subjective so this is hard to prove. You may (in my book) only do some sort of vending machine replacement if you are a) replacing my flavor-changing-agony with a $5 bill or b) replacing it with a breakfast burrito that is fresh and warm. No exceptions.

I know most of you are thinking that I can put a stop to this charade by just not eating out of the vending machine or by bringing my own delicious snacks to my desk. You're probably right. But I'm also not likely to win 'pregnant lady of the month' at anytime soon and I'm coping with both realities.

PS - if your husband or brother or nephew loads vending machines for a living, please don't send me a PDF on 'Vending Machine Etiquitte' and why they do what they do. I'm sure there are reasons. . . they are just impossible to explain to my taste buds.

Dear Mr President. . .

2011-09-22T11:43:00.000-07:00

President Obama is going into a LinkedIn Forum on Monday and they are allowing users to submit questions for him to answer. I figured it was my duty (and a snowballs chance) to get my question in front of him. I would hope more people do the same. Here are my thoughts for the P-Rez. Don't get mad. . . it's my blog!

"Mr President - We spend a lot of time talking out how to solve the issues of outlying groups: the extremely wealthy, the extremely poor, those that are in foreclosure and those without residency. What about me? I go to work every day and pay my taxes in full but I don't own a jet or a fleet of them for that matter. I pay for health insurance for my family on my own dime and have never burdened the system. I bought a house that was within my budget and have never been late on a payment; I've never 'needed' a bailout. I vote, I serve and I try to be a productive member of my community yet it seems to be harder and harder for me to keep living the 'American Dream' these days. Gas is expensive, milk is expensive, health care is expensive. What are you doing for me? How can you make life just a bit easier on me like you're trying to for all of these extraneous groups? When do I get your focus?"

Sounds selfish, yes? Please know that all of the "I's" and "Me's" in this statement are meant to represent a lot of Americans. . . and I know they exist because they are my friends and family. It's like being the kid in school that ALWAYS got good grades - hundreds of kids get help and recognition for improvement every term when they go from Ds to Cs but what if you didn't need improvement?!? What if you were doing what you were supposed WITHOUT promise for reward?

Short blog, my story. What would YOU ask the President if you had 2 minutes?

Trust me. . . she's amazing.

2011-08-05T13:59:00.000-07:00

OK, so you are all aware that I don't like to use this blog for promotion. . . unless it's shameless self-promotion then it's a totally different story!! In fact, most (if anything) I write about products or people on here is either weird in nature or not what the average person would call 'positive.'

Well, today I'm breaking away. This blog goes in the Shorty McGee club because it's Friday afternoon and rather than read, you should just listen.

This girl is magic. You know that old adage 'She could sing a phone book and it would sound amazing'? Well they made that up to talk about her.

Sara B. . . thanks for all the road trips.

Videos from a favorite. . . happy listening.

Classic tune. Otis would be proud.

Great recovery in the middle. . . made me giggle.

And last but certainly not least, the song that I've had in my head for the last three days. Weezer is good but Sara B makes it better. Go ahead and dance. For this there is no shame.

Social me this, will ya?

2011-07-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

Did you know that I do Social Media as part of my job? I know you'd never guess it by how infrequently I update my blog these days; call it the world's greatest irony. So what.

This morning as I was doing my normal social perusing (aka snooping into other people's lives that they've chosen to discuss online), I saw this video that politely explains why we all need Google+. (I was a skeptic at first too but no, the video wasn't produced by Google and it's actually mildly entertaining. . . especially the part where the 'Social Media Guru' comes in. Just so you know, all gurus ARE bald. What up, David?!)

Needless to say, in all my anxiousness, I got totally overwhelmed with the thought of signing up for yet another social network. Seriously? Do I really need to do this for another hour a day? I can't even be funny frequently enough to keep my Facebook and Twitter updates fresh once per day let alone bringing on the 500 pound gorilla, Google. I just can't do it. I can't.

The part that is frustrating (as I'm sure you also were drawn to if you watched my easily-embedded video - thanks Blogger, ahem, Google) is that there is some great functionality in this new interface, stuff that is pretty dang useful. It has left me sitting at my desk re-enacting a scene from a horribly dramatic movie where the girl gets married and then realizes that she's in love with another man: "Whhhhhyyyyyy? Whhhhhhyyyyy? Where were you when I needed you four years ago, Google? It's too late! How can I choose?"

As of late, I've been pretty negative Nancy about the whole Social Media thing anyway, leaving me to wonder why I'm having a Jessie Spano-sized freak out over Google+. I complain all of the time about how sick I am of Facebook - not necessarily about the functionality of it but the lack of candor, maybe, that people exercise when choosing to update.

As I said earlier, I make a pretty conscious effort to be at least a little amusing in my status updates on both Twitter and Facebook (if not before, the pressure is certainly on now); adding value (I choose entertainment) is always important when publishing Social Media content. I have noticed as of late though that reading Facebook updates parallels watching the nightly news immediately following September 11th - it's nothing but depressing. Somewhere along the Facebook timeline, the general populous has decided to use Facebook's power for evil rather than good and it's getting pretty old. If you fall into this category, my apologies but this conversation is long overdue.

I've made a list of all of the things that drive me crazy about the use of Social Media (namely Facebook) and why they are no-nos in my book. Agree or disagree, it's fine. But at least now you'll know why you maybe didn't make it off the cutting room floor next time I clean house on my "friend" list. Here we go:

Location, location, location. It's an old real-estate mantra that apparently the FB community has taken to heart. If you are going to be at dinner for an hour and want to check in some place, good on ya. If you are planning to be gone for a week to a remote village with no cell phone access and you left your pearls (I know, it's a mystery novel cliche) on your nightstand, don't announce it. You might as well tell me where the key is so you won't have to pay for a broken window in addition to your now missing pearls. (Please note that when I say "me", I don't actually mean me. I'm not a thief. But someone might be.) I've said on several occasions that a great date night activity would be to spend an hour gathering a list of all of the people you know are out of town, look up their addresses on the trusty interweb and go to their houses and leave a post-it note saying "Knew you were gone. Lucky it was us and not someone shady. Love, The Facebook Bandits." Good times, right? That would scare you straight.

These updates are most dangerous when paired with the next FB over site:

How do we know each other? If I can't (within 20 seconds. . . and that's stretching it) process how we know each other and recall the gleaming status of said relationship, you're not making the cut. Don't add people that you think you saw at Smith's once to your friend list. It's not safe. You know that guy who you saw at that one sweet party that you talked to/asked to move his car so you could make curfew? He's not your friend. And he might be a creeper. (Please note that when I say "he", I totally mean he because generally, and the incarceration numbers can back me here, men are more of the PHYSICAL creepers. I will not, however, disregard the fact that you boys need to be equally as careful with adding the ladies so you don't end up with a bucket of crazy on your hands; she likely won't physically hurt you but she could destroy you otherwise).

All I'm asking is for a little caution. I know it's everyone's dream to have the most "friends" on FB and the most followers on Twitter but I'm going to just lay this out - you aren't Ashton Kutcher and you never will be so let go of the dream, man. Let it go.

Drama, anyone? Have you noticed that Facebook has turned from a narcissists bragging playground ("Got a new truck!", "Had a hot date!", "Man, I'm amazing!") to the most heart-wrenching complaint fest of all time? I can't even log into Facebook without a box of tissues; (OK, the old me would have been sympathetic and had a box of tissues. The new, more seasoned me just gets really annoyed by it. I'm just being honest.) It's become the one place that you can get mass amounts of sympathy about the most ridiculous, "This happens to everyone" kind of stuff. (It's basically reminiscent of this blog post. . . complain, complain, complain. See what you're doing to me!?")

Not that Social Media isn't a great place to get support for the trials in your life or to offer condolences to those that have trials, I'm just saying "Enough already!" with this kind of stuff:

Worst day ever. . . I hate Monday. (we all do. Monday is the official end of what we call the weekend - a time for relaxation and enjoyment. Who wants that to end? Nobody. We all hate it.)
I hate bad drivers! (Again, we all do. never once have I heard someone say "I love bad drivers!" Never once. Plus, you just entered the "bad driver" category by being on Facebook while you're behind the wheel. Knock it off. Someone is likely Facebooking about you right now.)
Why me?!? (I don't know. None of us actually do. And, just as a side note, God isn't on Facebook. I checked. Perhaps another mechanism for asking that question might be appropriate? Just sayin'.)
I can't sleep. (Here's a thought: get off this glaring box called the computer and do something a little more soothing like reading a book. Besides, how could anyone sleep once they get fired up reading all of these negative things on Facebook!)

You get the point. As a general rule of thumb, if you were to say your complaint to someone's face and their only response would/could be "Oh.", don't post it. That's life. We're all going through hurt arms and bad days and tired feet and broken lights. Crap happens. . . but I don't want mine to be published for ever and ever. . . except maybe in my blog. :)

Kids these days. . .

2011-05-27T14:43:00.000-07:00

I've found myself over the last several months having conversations that end in me saying "How old AM I?" I ask this because these conversations generally revolve around youngsters and how messed up their lives are becoming. Am I THAT old? Have things REALLY changed that much in 15. . .ish. . . years?

I started thinking about my fondest memories from when I was young and how if a kid tried to pull of now what we did then, they would either be to tired to keep up or bored after about seven seconds because there are no text keys. I'm sad that my kids won't have the same crazy fun that I had. . . and at the same time, I'm more sad that my kids won't get the discipline I got growing up (you know, the kind where the neighbors mom wasn't afraid to teach you manners). Kids need that. Ugh, see, I sound old.

Anyway, in honor of my days of yore, I've decided to make a list of some of the "That would never happen today" activities of my yester-year. This is good times. I hope you can relate.

Micromachine races down the driveway. I always wanted the monster truck because it would make it over the cracks. Because I was the only girl, I generally got the Porshe with no lift and got stuck every 8 feet.
Baseball in the street. Tag in the street. Roller skates in the street. We did everything in the middle of the street. We'd yell "Car!" on the rare occasion that one of our mom's would pull in after getting groceries but generally, the street was a safe place to be.
When mom pulled in with the groceries, we helped. We were expected to. My schedule was never more important than my mother's and my dad made sure we understood that. We helped bring in groceries and then we stayed and ran them down into the storage room or the bathrooms or wherever they needed to go. Bottom line, we helped.
We had sword fights every year with Christmas wrapping paper tubes. Kids now would think that is "lame and boring" but it was quite fun. We beat the tar out of each other every year for about 30 minutes (that's about how long all of the paper rolls would last until they we annihilated).
We had camp outs in our backyard. My dad would humor us and set up a tent and there wouldn't be TV or phones so we played outside until it was time for bed.
We had to pick up the phone without any idea who it was. It was actually kind of a treat when the phone rang. We didn't get called or contacted nearly as much as kids do now and when the phone would ring, we really hoped it was for us. . . but that's the great part, nobody knew!
We were on time. We had to be. It was completely inconvenient to stop and find a pay phone and (assuming you had your day planner with the person's number written down) call them to tell them you'd be 20 minutes late. So, we just weren't. We scheduled things, left plenty of time for travel and didn't bail out at the last minute when something better came along. We showed up, on time, and with everything that we needed. Otherwise, we were a waste.
We read and wrote our own material. No Internet to copy from, no sir. We had to go to this building called the library and go through card catalogs and find books related to homework. Then, we had to read. A lot. We could photocopy but that does nobody any good. We researched and read and it was actually kind of difficult. I would say that it paid off. We will always be more resourceful than ChaCha.
We played Kick the Can and Sardines a lot. If you don't know what that is, go to the library.
We got hurt. We had fights with neighbor kids, we wrestled in the front yard. We got bloody noses, bloody knees, scratched faces and bad sunburns and not one person ever called protective services. Kids sometimes get hurt. . . and it's no body's fault. And parents, know that it's OK if your kids get hurt. It'll make 'em tough. Look at you.

Taking the "option" out of Adoption. . .

2011-03-09T14:28:00.000-08:00

Stay with me as I make my point, please. Don't bail out half way through this one because I don't need you parading around saying that I'm a heartless crazy. (Unless you were doing that before this blog post then, proceed). I'm hoping we can start a good discussion about this so if you have information that I may "clearly" not be aware of, make it known in the comments. I'd really like to better understand this topic. So obviously the best way to do that is to blog about it first, right?

I'm at a point in my life where I am, as people would say, "not getting any younger." My clock is ticking and prime time is coming to an end and all of those other cliche comments about the female reproductive system are rearing their ugly and only partially-accurate heads. I'm not ancient, but I'm not that spring chicken that everyone references when it comes to talking about having babies.

That said, I'm also not planning on having a baby tomorrow (a biological impossibility) but hopefully, sometime in the not-so-distant future a little one will grace our home we'll have the family we've always hoped for.

So, I think this is clear but in case it isn't: babies are on the brain. Right now, all of them are cute, all of them are fun, all of them scream ridiculously loud! (Isn't it funny how you really start to notice that when you're thinking about having one in your house? It's like noticing how much puppies pee the second you decide to get one! Crazy!)

As we've been thinking and talking of kids, we've (like most people) started thinking about all of our child-having options. We're hip. We're "with it". We realize that not all babies come into a family the same way. So our discussions always, of course, include adoption. As I've looked around and read a little (I can't emphasize the LITTLE part of that enough - I'm no expert), one thing continues to come to mind: Why is it so dang difficult. . . expensive. . . difficult??

I'm a strong advocate of adoption for two very important reasons; two of the brightest spots in my life were adopted by my brother and sister-in-law and I couldn't imagine our family without them. Dallas and Sarah did what so many are desperate to do - bring two incredible and smart kids into their home and offer them a life they wouldn't have had otherwise. I watch these kids and see the lives that they are being provided in a loving, caring environment and my heart jumps into my throat! I'm so grateful for my fam and for the mothers of these incredible kiddos for giving them the opportunities that they might not have had otherwise. My gratitude knows no limits.

While my exposure is limited to my sphere, I have seen enough to know that there are a lot of kids that aren't as lucky - they don't have moms that are thinking about their futures and decide to place them in homes where they can flourish. There are thousands of kids out there without moms and dads, without homes and without choices. These kids (sometimes multiple siblings at a time) are abandoned or parent-less for a variety of reasons and still, desperately, need homes just like their counterparts.

So I know you're thinking "Car, I know why adoption exists. . . I didn't come here for that." I know. I'm painting a picture - some would say for dramatic effect, I say because I don't know any better.

Here is my point: Why, with thousands of kids in this predicament from all over the world and hundreds of good families willing to give at least some of them homes, is it so hard to make the two sides pair up? I know families that have been on lists for YEARS waiting to be able to adopt a child and I also know that there are thousands of kids that need good homes - need, supply, need, supply. This system isn't meeting the basic economic formula!

In addition to the time these people are waiting to be found, the expense associated with processing fees alone is enough to put a person into years of debt - that's before you even start clothing, feeding and providing shelter for these little faces. In addition to that you have multiple week-long trips abroad (if applicable, of course. Don't go buying a ticket to Guam if you are wanting to adopt in Kansas - that's just silly.) to sit in a hotel room and wait. . . the list could go on.

I'm not naive. I know that work costs money - I work at an ad agency for goodness sake and we bill by the hour; adoption takes work, and rightfully so. But I look at the expenses associated with these adoption services (which can vary greatly by country, by the way, which confuses me even more) and I wonder how families can afford time and time again to pay these astronomical fees that can go toe-to-toe with a down payment on a large house.

Should the adoption agencies continue to do thorough background checks on people submitting for adoption? Yes. Should they be able to prove that they will provide adequate love, living space and life to these kids? Absolutely. Visas, legal fees, transportation, all of it costs and I can't imagine that any of those things could or should be cut out of the process but I also wonder how many more families would get involved in this incredible process if it weren't so intimidating??

I know that there isn't an adoptive parent out there that wouldn't do it again and I'm positive that every kid has been worth every penny that's needed to change hands and every hour sitting in a hotel room. At this point, I've only reaped the benefits of the system in my niece and nephew, without any of the work. I may need a navigation lesson, I suppose. Or a ticket to Guam?

Words of Wisdom. . .

2011-02-18T14:58:00.000-08:00

Dear Super-Fast Phone Number Guy,
Thanks for leaving a message on my machine. I got most of it, except that pesky phone number part.

You see, you spoke very clearly throughout most of the message, enunciating your words and using impressive vocabulary. That is until you asked me to call you back "ASAP" (which, just as a sidenote, is generally considered the "urgent red flag" of the phone world) and then rattled off your phone number like you were Tom Cruise diffusing a bomb; all I actually heard was 415-shma-shmeeeeh-smah-extension smeh-smah-2. While it was impressive that you have your phone number THAT memorized, I don't. If I tried to dial that number, I am as likely to reach you as I am to order some delicious Chinese takeout in your same area code.

In the future, if you really need me to call you back "ASAP", hurry up your message and use the two seconds that you shaved off to actually tell me your phone number at a speed that I might be able to dictate. I'm not a court reporter, man. I'm a girl with a pen that occasionally needs a scribble to get moving. Breathe your way through that phone number part and I promise you, I'll call you back next time.

Don't feel sad. Your friend, The 10 min Message Guy who Didn't Bother to Leave a Phone Number After all of That!, is getting his letter as we speak.

Sincerely,
The Girl with Too Many Messages

Old habits die hard. . .

2011-02-04T13:05:00.000-08:00

I'm a creature of habit, that's the truth. I don't deal well with change. In fact the idea of making a major life shift makes my heart rate jump just enough to mimic a slow jog. It's weird though because I love adventure. The problem is that it better be planned-for, packed-appropriately, scheduled-in adventure or I'll have nothing to do with it.

That's just how it's always worked. . . we planned for everything. Us Hamblins have all had planners or date books or calendars ever since I can remember. (One of my favorite things still to do each year is to go and find next year's planner. . . same exact model and layout as last year please or I will hyperventilate, I promise you.). We grew up knowing where we were to be at what time and in what clothes. I promise you that if you need to know how much a gallon of milk cost in 1997, my mom has it on a grocery list somewhere in her planner (it's basically a Mecca of information and I have zero doubts that the cure to cancer is hidden somewhere in those leather-bound walls).

Anyway, the point is that this is the way it was. . . and continues to be today. My name is Carlee and I am a plan-aholic.

Does this neurotic 'planning' thing sound familiar? Does it feel 'comfortable' and 'good'? It does to me too because that's what I'm used to and frankly, couldn't even SEE life any other way. I'm like a Clydesdale with Franklin Covey blinders on.

So, I shocked my system a little bit. What did I do? I got married. The therapy that it has brought to my twisted mind is worth all of the extra laundry, promise. Living with someone else and sharing everything with them has surprised. . . no shocked. . . no STUNNED me as I've seen how many other ways there are of doing things. Trev is more of a fly-by-the-seat of his pants kind of guy than I've ever been a day in my life. (I'm too busy figuring out which pants and why those pants and will flying by them make them rip?). He's organized and responsible but he certainly doesn't own a planner. . . and, I'll admit it, probably shocked by the number of "to-do" lists a single person can have - four at once. I know, I'm embarrassed for me, too.

Just looking at our two ways of doing things got me thinking. . . I've always been a big planner because, as previously stated, that was my world. Mom and Dad had planners so it was only right that I had a Fisher Price one, right? Right.

This relentless love affair with to-do lists and planning got me thinking about how many things I do in my life just because that's. . .well. . .that's just how you do it! Call it being afraid to venture out or call it naivety for just assuming that it was the only way to do things. The bottom line is that I'm looking at my legacy and wondering how much of it is Carlee and how much of it is Pavlov. . . simply a learned habit.

Let's take steak, for instance. My parents eat their steak medium-well. So do I. I have all of my life. I never ordered it any other way because that's how we order steak.

Or banking. Where do I bank? We'll I wouldn't put that on the web, silly. But it's the same place that parents bank. Why? Because that's where we bank! Who needs a better reason than that?

My point is that I'm a lemming sometimes; it's easier to assume that other people know all the right answers than to have to research it myself. The problem is. . . how will I ever know what my tastes are if they are always based on the tastes of others? Confucius say: he who can't find his own tastes will never eat tomatoes. . . or something like that.

I successfully broke one of these habits some years ago and it was totally liberating. I used to use my online banking to verify that my checkbook tracking was correct. Read that last sentence again, slowly. Yes, I was a checkbook believer and couldn't imagine ever swiping my debit card without recording it in the book of life. . . er. . . my checkbook. I saved receipts for days on end and wrote them all down and then verified that I got them all through the power of the Internet and online banking. Does that seem silly? Well, it's what I knew. So, I decided to be brave and only write down the actual checks that I wrote (which amounts to about two per month) and just verify my purchases and balances online. It was tough at first but man, there was nothing more liberating than changing a habit that did nothing but inconvenience me to start with.

So I'm on a mission to change things up. I'm aiming to find things that can be done a better way - different isn't good enough, it needs to be BETTER or why change? I'm going to break some habits and improve some schedules. . . maybe tone it back to two "to-do" lists. The thought of this makes me really excited I should celebrate! Maybe eat a steak. . . and I think I'll take it medium.

Costuming

2010-12-09T11:43:00.000-08:00

Note to the general public:

If you cannot leave your house without already having multiple fights with your clothing, surrender immediately. Discard the clothing that is bothering you because I can promise you this with 100% certainty:

IT WILL BOTHER YOU ALL DAY.

Today's nemesis: Tights.

That is all.

Diary of a Chubby Girl

2010-11-29T13:06:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this post with total awareness of its implications - I just want you to know that. Sometimes posts like this get written in hopes of receiving notes of encouragement or kind words and while your mental notes are appreciated, they are unnecessary here.

This was all sparked by an off-hand comment made to me today at work. A co-worker and I were discussing an informational video that they had seen online and I asked them to forward it so I could watch. After several minutes, they re-appeared in my office and said "No offense, but there is part of the video that has to do with obesity and the affects that it has. . ." This, my friends, is where I stopped listening and started internalizing what had just happened. "No offense. . ." What did that even mean? I shouldn't be offended that they talk about obesity or I should be more self-aware. . . I'm not really sure but in case there was ever any doubt about how I see myself, I'm going to clear it up right now: I am chubby. Been aware of it for years. There, the cat's out of the bag. Newsflash: The chubby girl knows!!! I hope we can all relax now and stop filtering our comments about weight and health.

Most of the people that will read this know me well and know that this isn't a new revelation. In fact, it's one that I've dealt with my whole life. What I haven't done (until this very moment) is have a very real, out-loud look at my self image. I've tried everything short of therapy to try and understand who I am and why the chips (mmm, chips. . . jokes, jokes) fell the way they did so maybe this will help. Then again, maybe it won't but here it goes.

The battle of the bulge didn't start last week for me - I didn't wake up on Wednesday and think to myself "I think I'm a bit overweight! How did this happen?" As much as I wish this was a day-to-day battle over whether I liked how I looked or not, it hasn't been. In fact, I would dare say that there has probably been no more than a 30 day period in my life where I truly liked the way I looked. . . and man did I look good in those Pampers. Do you know what it's like to struggle with body image every day of your life? Sadly, a lot more women than are willing to admit it fight this battle every morning. I've been one of them. . .but I'm thinking about stopping.

I'm actually a very normal girl with a very normal appetite. I know that it's shocking to the general public that people that are overweight actually do like carrots and I know that it shocks the hell out of most people when we ask for a box at the end of a meal because we can't eat all of our food (thanks for staring at us while we eat, by the way. . . it's very encouraging) but it does happen. I like vegetables and fruit. I also like pasta and french fries, just like your average eater. I don't over-indulge on a regular basis. I don't slap mayo on my 100% fried food in order to get it down. In fact, because I struggle with my weight, I pay very close attention to the things that I put in my body. . . and I probably eat better than a lot of people.

I've been an athlete all of my life and I've never been prejudiced toward sports. I have more belts and trophies than most people could dream about and they are NOT for serving water on the sidelines while I eat a donut. I play basketball, softball, soccer and did karate. . . and I am decent at all of them. I like to dance and lift weights and have run a 5k within the last year. I will work and sweat and move more in a day than most people do every two. Contrary to popular belief, overweight people aren't all lazy. I get up early, I work long days, I visit family and contribute to my community.

I am healthy. I have the cholesterol counts and heart rate to prove it. My organs function as they should. I've never drank nor smoked a day in my life. My mind is sharp and full of ideas.

I say all of this to prove a point. Despite all of my efforts, all of my awareness, all of my try and work and sacrifice. . . I'm still chubby. Does it bother me every day? Sure does. I'll be the first to admit that I would adore waking up tomorrow and having the body that I deserve - the one that I've worked very hard for all of my life. That would be ideal. I keep waking up every day hoping. . .

But, more importantly, do I think I'm more than this? Absolutely. As much as I wish things were different and that this wasn't such a tough battle for me and millions of other people, I'm better than that. I'm better than taking "offense" to your comments and staring and judgement because this struggle has made me sensitive and understanding and mindful of other people's struggles.

I know that it may be hard for some people to grasp but when you tell a chubby girl that she's chubby, you aren't likely telling her something she doesn't already know. So, you can stop staring and whispering and talking about how I could "let myself get like this." I'll tell you how - I did exactly the same thing that you all do every day. This is just my battle. All things considered, I think that my ailment, while very visible, is pretty minimal compared to what I could be dealing with, no?

'Nuff said. . . I need a carrot.

Let's Talk Thief. . . Update

2010-10-26T12:04:00.000-07:00

SO, for those of you that were brave enough to read my original post, I figured it was fair that I give you a very brief update.

Went to court this morning. Finally saw the little fella who had the nerve to take our things. Frankly, I'm baffled that he was even able to reach the door handle to our truck. He had this little face and the body of, well, a 10-year-old girl. (This is a 10-year-old girl in 1990, not now. Today they have implants and fake hair and lashes.) He looked so small and I was sure that when I saw him I would feel this overwhelming need to hug him and tell him that he'll be OK. . . False, I did not.

He's still claiming that he didn't do it DESPITE the fact that the cops found our phone in his room. . . you know, the one that was taken from our car along with a bunch of other stuff. Anyway, because he claims that he did nothing, the prosecutor (my new hero) told the judge that we'd like to go to trial. Bam! Not getting off that easy.

So, we should be receiving a subpoena in the next 30 days (gee, I hope they deliver it to us during church again. . . I'm hoping to keep up my rep as the bad, bad seed in the ward that needs help. You get more cookies on your doorstep that way.) and will be all set to testify during the first part of December.

Not over, making progress. We'll keep you posted!

More things I've discovered. . .

2010-10-07T12:43:00.000-07:00

So, it's been a while since I took some inventory of this crazy little thing called life and what I've learned. In fact, it's coming up on three years. My last post of this wort talked about Who I Am. This one is going to continue that discovery process - it's a rocky road (mmmmm, rocky road) so buckle your seat belts and keep your arms and legs inside. . . OK, I'm getting carried away. The point is, here we go:

I loathe yogurt. But I eat it because it's good for me.
Yogurt makes me think about life and how many things I do that I loathe but in the end, really are probably good for me. I think that they happen every day. Laundry comes to mind.
I really like watching the Discovery Channel, a lot. Even the weird shows about fishing and truck driving.
I like the feel of the rain when it's warm outside.
I finally fell in love. The forever kind. Who knew that my first time would be a home run? Honestly, I expected nothing less.
I really like coming up with new formulas in Excel. It's nerdy, that's me.
I want to ride in a hot air balloon one day.
Being a wife makes you quite a bit more selfless, if you're doing it right. I can't wait to find out how it feels to be a mom.
Back to the yogurt thing. . . Black Forrest Cake Yogurt doesn't taste like cake at all, it tastes like yogurt. Call it what you will but yogurt flavored like delish desserts can only be compared to one thing: putting lipstick on a pig.
I love my bed. It's one of the nicest things that I own.
I've hit the tipping point where I finally feel like I'm worth more than I make. I'm six years into my career and it's taken a LOT of extra work to feel that way.
I write lists about EVERYTHING. I sometimes add things that I've done to my "To Do" lists just to check them off immediately.
As much as I complain about being busy, I make myself that way. I like being involved.
We just got Netflix and I love it. I know, it's like announcing that I just "got the Internet and it's really cool".
The more "stuff" you have, the more "stuff" you have to worry about.
Hobbies are important. I need one that isn't reading.
The news makes me sad and the sadness usually outweighs it's "informative" benefit.
I've joined the millions who can say that they have "Tweeted".
My family more than tripled in size when I got married and I love every minute of it.
I'm more insecure than I ever thought. The good news is that it all stems from really dumb things so I hope to move past it one day.
I think a lot. . . and fast. I would guess my think to speak ratio is about 463:1.
I miss my grandparents. It's amazing how that affects you as you get older.
My parents are the kindest people I know. You could have everyone take a "kind" test and they would win. I hope that their compassion was genetic and that people can one day see in me all that I see in them.
Stealing things is bad.
I like breakfast food the very most. I could eat it all day, every day.

Shorter than last time, I know. . . and slightly more odd. I'm I only learning weird things about myself as I get older? Fun.

Let's talk thief. . .

2010-09-24T12:09:00.000-07:00

So this has been one of the "list" topics that I knew everyone wanted to hear about but couldn't bear to write until I knew my blood wouldn't boil over while I wrote it. I think I'm finally to the point of "purge" and can effectively get it out of my system.

For those of you that are used to me doing mindless chatter that may or may not be funny, I'll do my best to insert that as much as possible. But this is probably going to be a journey of another kind - be warned. I don't like being somber or philosophical in my writing because I get nervous and I don't do it well but I think it's sort of necessary during parts so here we go. Not sad, just serious, sort of. I'm also going to try and keep it to the points that matter. The "in person" story is much more animated (as usual) so if you wanna hear it, give me a ring!

About a month and a half after Trev and I were married, we were pulled out of church by a Layton City police officer. How's that for a start to a story, eh? Yeah. . that's what my debate coach liked to call an "attention grabber". Thanks, Hop. Now this was doubly cruel not just because we were pulled out but because we were new. . . and from what I hear, the church doesn't look favorably on criminal activity which is what it looked like.

I had just seen the uniformed officer after sacrament meeting and leaned over to Trev and said "That is sad. There is only two reasons they come to church in uniform: to arrest you or tell you that someone in your family has been in an accident." No sooner had those words left my mouth (that's what I call K-A-R-M-A) than we overheard the officer asking someone if they knew where Trevor was. My heart hit my feet, literally. Thoughts rushed my mind of my parents and Trev's parents and what could have happened. I'm glad to say that I did not, for one second, assume that he was a drug dealer. See. . . we really are in love!

Trev went back and introduced himself and the officer asked Trev to step outside. Heart, in the feet. Remind you. This is where the first lesson comes in. As I stood in the foyer of our church building, by myself, new, obviously nervous, all I overheard was people talking about our family. I heard everything from "That's so embarrassing" to "Go out and try to listed to what is going on, dad" and people laughing and pointing at us. Trevor and I had done nothing wrong and yet because of how things "looked", we were completely judged. I've never looked at other people in awkward situations the same way since. . . at least OUTSIDE of Wal-Mart. . .

It's amazing how a situation like that can change your perspective. Nobody knew what was happening, not even me and yet we were immediately pegged as bad people who should be embarrassed. I started thinking about how many times I'd done similar things by making assumptions and jumping to conclusions. Bad Carlee. That instant, that moment, changed me.

Come to find out, some of our stuff was recovered outside of a home near ours and the officers were trying to find out if we knew anything about our vehicles (that's right. . . plural) that had been broken into. We identified the things that they had collected and made our way back to the house.

The police told us that in addition to our stuff, a young girl had been found on the lawn drunk as a skunk and had been taken to the hospital to be treated. Oh, and she wasn't talking about anything that had happened. The weird part is that we would have had to walk right past said girl, passed out on the lawn, on the way to church and we MISSED it!?!? How in the world did that happen? I mean, I can get caught up in my own business and get chatty but I would like to think I pay more attention than that!! Second lesson: pay attention, particularly to your feet. You'll never know when you have to step over a drunk.

So, after we talked to the police I did the only logical thing I could think of - I cried. A lot. We had a TON of stuff missing and it was a huge deal - a big Nikon camera, a laptop, a projector. Sidenote: Let me explain why our trucks sounded like a pawn shop. Trev uses a lot of electronics in his business. We had been out the night before with the equipment. We didn't generally, and never now, store our electronics outside. All it took was one night of random laziness and kablam!

We talked with the cops, tried to figure out what happened, they (unfortunately) weren't very helpful. I got frustrated, got mad, got sad, felt violated, felt nervous and then after the first ten minutes. . . seriously, it's a vicious cycle.

And that leads us into lesson number three. Don't steal things. Let me tell you what it does to the person that you steal from. Besides upsetting them beyond a point they've probably ever been and besides the fact that they worked for all of those things and you did NOT, you take every sense of security that they may have ever had about their home and their things and in 20 minutes, you wipe it out. Completely. You make them not sleep for weeks, you made them check the locks on my car. . . I mean their car four times every night and you make them get nervous enough that they sit through the most agonizing four hours of their life to get a concealed weapons permit. . .That may sound far-fetched but really, it happens. So, don't steal. OK, pumpkins?

Anyway. . . here we are months later. Since this blog is already hitting maximum word capacity and we aren't even to the good stuff yet, I'm going to give you the Reader's Digest version, ready? (If you want to skip the list, you can skip to the end for a spoiler). Here we go:

Cops: "Can't do much."
Carlee: Whaaaaaaaat? Crying. . .
Waiting. Nothing.
Fixing truck. Light bulb over my head. Inspired.
Carlee: "We need to check KSL."
Trevor: "Found a camera, looks like ours. Vague description. Posted same day ours was stolen. I'm calling."
Calling. Rings. No answer. Go to bed.
Wake up. Calling again. Rings. Kid answers. No idea about the camera. Makes me curious. I start asking who the name is on the ad. Find out it's kid's older brother. SUSPICION RISES.
Carlee's Trusty Office Mate says "We should Google the phone number."
Google the phone number. Apparently this kid is a long time electronics dealer on KSL.com. Weird. How many 13-year-olds have access to GPS systems, phones, cameras, computers. . . I could go on but you get my point. He also has a habit of taking down his account after each sale. Also weird.
Feel like Angela Lansbury on a hunt.
My buddy who works as a cop tells me that this kid has been in trouble a LOT. . . and caught attempting to break into cars before. . . oh and that he lives two blocks away. This is where the phrase "coincidence" flies out the window.
Call police, tell them info. I'm excited. They are not. Nothing happens.
Carlee gets stir crazy. Decides to send a letter to the Chief of Police in Layton with all of the info. . . including a disclaimer that he probably hears this from people all the time and that I'm blaming anyone YET but this looks beyond suspicious and that I pay my taxes and every other patriotic or political thing I could think of about why someone has to do something. Sidenote: Kids, don't try this maneuver at home. I was desperate and angry and frankly, guided so don't inundate the C.O.P. with a ton of emails.
Email returned same day with an apology, an explanation of how overworked the cops are (which they wouldn't be if we all listened to rule number three. . . don't steal things) and a promise to do something and look into it.
Carlee is sad because while the response was amazing, how often do they actually do anything??
Trevor "Um, I just got a call from a detective and they are in this kid's room right now and they found my phone."
Carlee: Whaaaaaaaat!?
Police station. Nice, super hardcore detective. Explains what happened. Went to house, talked to grandpa, grandpa denied, cop said "Prove it by letting us look around", gramps said "Come on in!" I LOVE GRAMPS! Thanks for the permission.
Cop comes in, cop finds phone, gramps goes silent. Kid is busted.
Carlee feels like they should make a new detective show called "The Hansens" and we'll just help bust Internet crime! I watch "To Catch a Predator". We could totally hack it.
Kid goes in to station. Has "no idea" how the phone got in his room. I used that excuse too when I had "no idea" how all the Popsicles got eaten. Cute. Boy refuses to talk. Sidenote: is it weird that you can just refuse to talk to the cops and they let you leave? That is certainly not how it works on TV and it was totally disconcerting. Next time the cops come to my house because I'm quilting too loud, I'm not even answering the door!
Kid says the camera was his mom's and he was selling it for her. Not really possible since mom is in prison. Yes, that's what we're dealing with.
Cop charges kid with two counts of car burglary and one count of possession of stolen property.
Hansen's feel vindicated.
Trevor gets notice in the mail that we need to fill out some statements for court. Hansen's do so and are so verbose that it turned out longer than this blog. They need to know how we felt, right? Gosh.

OK, there's the bulleted list of everything that happened. I know it sounds crazy and it was. The bottom line is that we found the kid who took our stuff because he was not bright (and/or 13. . . they may be interchangeable) and posted one of our things on KSL. We busted him, turned him over to the cops who busted him again and now he is in BIG trouble with the court.

No, we didn't get our stuff back. At this point, it's probably on it's way to Guam. We learned a bunch, we cried a bunch, we grew a bunch and we learned the most valuable lesson: be careful about your feelings toward others and how much you let that run your life. Hate and dis contempt and revenge WILL take over your life and drive you crazy. We realized that early on in this process and vowed to not let it get the best of us and, luckily, it didn't. As many times as I wanted to see this kid picking up trash and cleaning poo for what he did and as much as I wish we had our things back, I can't help but feel bad for him. What would life have been like for me if I didn't have anyone that cared enough to know where I was at 2:00 in the morning? How different would my life have turned out if I knew that my parents would never know that I had thousands of dollars worth of electronics in my bedroom that didn't belong to me? I'm sure things would be vastly different for me now.

I'm learning (again) to love my neighbor. . . even if my neighbor is a kid who can't keep his hands to himself.

And the winner is. . .

2010-08-31T18:52:00.000-07:00

Do you ever continue to read articles or blogs with titles like this one, knowing that the last time you entered any sort of contest was the sixth grade spelling bee but secretly hoping that somehow, by the grace of the contest Gods (they are Roman of course, in case you were wondering), your name is at the end of that sentence? Admit it. That's why you are still reading. You're wondering if there is any chance that I might have done a secret drawing including all of my blog followers for that car that you've always dreamed of and I am about to read the winner. Get your surprise face on because. . . drum roll. . . this is no such blog entry. I have nothing to give away. But maybe if I become less sadistic in my writing, I can convince a local eatery to give me some coupons or something? No? Anyway.

Declaration: I'm starting a pageant. Yes, it's true. It's like that old advice that says if you are always behind the camera, you'll never have to be in pictures. Can you see the parallel? Not that anyone would ever force me to be in a pageant but you get my point.

Anyway, the pageant is going to be called the "Miss I've never done anything that could land me on the news nor have I ever taken nudy pictures America Pageant". I had to add "America" in there because I think it's a pageant rule - there has to be some sort of geography limitation to my pageant so I may as well go big or go home. Also, that may not be the correct spelly of "nudy" but I like it so it stays. Ah, the joys of running your own business.

All of this came from all of the crazy news about these young ladies wanting to represent our country in a crown and, nearly without fail, their title being questioned because of some previous run-in with Hugh "the pretty boy" Hefner or one of his cohorts. I'm sad that what was one (I think) a pretty big deal has turned into something so crazy and embarrassing.

So, here's the premise. We will take any 14-30 year old girl who can officially state the title of my pageant and have it ring true about their life. OK, now that there are 100 or so of you still reading and able to participate, we can proceed.

The age range is so wide for two reasons: first, 14 seems to be about the age when girls are really susceptible to bad things. Isn't that sad? I was at least a sophomore in high school before I knew enough about life to even think about getting in trouble. (Quick note - that is all I did, too. . . thought about it. Then I got back to doing my homework). Second, and most importantly, if I narrowed the age bracket too much, we'd have no contestants. Everyone good with the age window? Good. Moving on.

Sidenote: This is the part where I hope that you are all visualizing me up on a stage, dictating directions about my pageant. It's more powerful that way, don't you think. Got the visual? Yes, I'm in something with glitter.

The pageant will consist of four rounds, each round offering additional points and are absolutely weighted because let's face it, some things really DO matter more than others. The categories are as follows:

1. Thorough background check. You might me asking "Wait, I thought we already established that I'm a good girl because I can say the title and have it be applicable to my life." Wrong. You underestimate me. That "use your best judgement" attitude is how five of the last seven big pageant winners in this country ended up making the front page of the tabloids - their "best judgement" clearly wasn't "best" enough. So, we're taking the proper precautions and doing a thorough background check BEFORE you step on stage. We'll be gathering information from your friends and family and then showing it all to your mom. If she shudders, winces or cries in any form, your outta here. In addition, because you may have a hard core mom, if I shudder, wince or cry in any form, you're also out.

2. Intelligence. Little to no weight will be put on the actual classes taken in school but more on how you performed in them. What I'm looking for is to know that you understand your limits. If you only took gym but got all A's, I say good for you for knowing your boundaries. I'm proud when people can successfully admit that they will just never be a chemical engineer. Know what you're good at, harness it and attack. That's what we're looking for. In addition, contestants will be forced to talk about social matters, media, politics, Jersey Shore. . . WAIT! How did that get in there? Not in my pageant you don't!

3. Talent. I like this part of the normal pageants so I'm leaving it in. But, to make things more exciting, every umpteenth year I will not be allowing piano playing. I'll decide if this year is an "umpteenth" year two days before the talent portion begins so I suggest you have a back-up. I'll leave in singing because I enjoy it, but I do put a clause on here that the judges can change your song selection if they don't like it; or I can if I don't like what it stands for. Remember the title of the pageant, people. This should be no surprise. Sidenote: if you thought that this last clause probably meant that your rendition of "Hit Me Baby One More Time" probably wouldn't cut it, you're probably right.

4. Fashion. For the first portion of the contest, you will be given $50 to put together your best Old Navy outfit and strut your stuff. The second portion will be a random drawing of candid pictures of you over the last 4 years - this is how we will judge your fashion sense. Important sidenote: if any of these pictures could be pictures of you laying on a bar at a frat house somewhere, I would revert you back to previous advice to get out now.

Based on these criteria and general likability, we'll find ourselves a winner. If at any point the winner of our pageant does a naughty and gets herself on the news, not only will she loser her crown and all of the goodies that go with it, she will be sentenced to 500 hours of community service. That's just how we roll.

Now I know this sounds a little difficult but imagine putting THAT on a resume? Employers everywhere would know for sure that you are not a liability and you could basically get into any setting with the President. . . or an audience with the Pope. Imagine the possibilities.

Labeling

2010-08-09T11:36:00.000-07:00

So I'm attacking another one of my "must write about" topics today and I decided to hit up a short one. (You saw how long the engagement piece was and I just don't want to bore my small, but hopefully entertained audience to death!). So here we are. . . let's talk labeling.

I'm not talking about the people kind of labeling because while I would like to get on an emotionally-charged, "this is good for humanity" soapbox where I tell how it's wrong to judge other people, the other side of that soapbox would have a giant tag that says "A hypocrite stands here" and I'm just not ready for that kind of ridicule or commitment; if I write about not labeling people, I'd certainly have to remove it from my list of "favorite bad things to do" and I'm just not at a point where I can stop yet. So, you can stop feeling like this is going to be a guilt blog right. . . . now. Moving on.

I'm talking about literal labeling - you know those little machines that print out labels, those ones that are basically like crack by way of addiction and like Costco by way of justification (can't you justify buying just about anything in bulk when you go into Costco? "Well who wouldn't need a 10 year supply of hot pockets?" or "Of course mascara should only be sold in a 50 gallon drum. I can refill. . ."). Once the labels start coming out, you think you have to label everything and it's a cold day in Phoenix before you can stop.

This all came to a head the other day when I was at work and noticed that the three utensil holders on the table all had labels on them, instructing the user (myself) which utensil I was about to use. Right then then question came into my mind "Which comes first - knowing what a fork is or knowing how to read the word 'fork'?" (It's an age-old mystery. . . just like the chicken and the egg.) I would assume that most people can recognize a fork before they know how to read the word, yes? Fair assumption?

I think that in cases like this, labeling just doesn't do it for me. I can look down into the container and see what's in in just as fast as reading the front. So, I pose the question to the masses: Is this labeling necessary?

I feel like it would be like me placing a label on my screen that says "computer". Yep, sure is. Or a label on the big brown block of wood at the entrance to our office that says "door". Are we learning English? Isn't it recognizable for what it is?

I respect labeling solid containers that you don't want to sift through for a certain holiday decoration or winter clothes but only if the contents aren't readily available for your perusal anyway. When you start labeling clear totes or kitchen utensils, I start thinking that you were just bored and needed something to label. . . other than your neighbor (OK, you didn't really think I'd get through this entire blog without a little labeling guilt/humor, did you? Oh you did? That's cute. . .)

I tell you what, these label makers are like drugs (so I hear) or chocolate (so I know). I'm actually surprised that I don't walk into more "organized" houses with labels on the cupboards in the kitchen - here are the cups, here are the forks, here are. . . wait a minute. This actually sounds convenient! Where is that label maker. . . .

I Smell Like Beer. . . .

2010-07-31T19:12:00.000-07:00

OK, not still. But it was a completely appropriate title for this blog. Here's why:

My rockin' husband surprised me with tickets to go see Tim McGraw and Lady A in concert at USANA. I was beyond elated, partly because of Tim and Lady A, partly because I loved the venue but mostly because it was a rockin' surprise and I never get surprised. So. . . excited I was. (that's my inner Yoda coming out).

We made our way to USANA last night and parked our blanket somewhere near the back. As at most country concerts at USANA, the place was packed, wall-to-wall so we were confident that sitting near the top would lead to a speedy exit. Little did I know how true that very statement would become.

It was blazing hot and Trev and I decided that one set of $4 drinks would have to due for the night so we were baking like toasted cheesers right about the time that Lady A took the stage. So far, the concert was rocking. . . except for this quite loud groups of 20 somethings that were standing over us and comparing tattoos and drunken escapades for about 25 min. It happens though, right? Right.

Just as Tim took the stage in his trademarked white tank and jeans and the sun was setting behind us so the temp was cooling off, a storm blew in and she was about 5'2".

I saw a "dude" (you now officially know what he looked like, right? The pic in your head is accurate. Just go with it.) approaching quickly from down the slope of blankets. He was carrying what else but two over sized beer cans. Let's pause for a minute and reflect. I wasn't looking for trouble. I wasn't scoping out the drunkest people (like I normally do) and waiting for a fight. Trev and I had just relieved ourselves of the "Tattooed Teens" group so we were feeling pretty good about life. You see what I'm saying? Minding our own business. OK, back to the story.

So as the "dude" approaches, I see a hand grab his bicep. . . a little hand. The little hand is attached to a little arm and then a little body of a girl that you would swear is not a day over 16 except for the two beers that she is also carrying (maybe she was 16 and had a killer fake id? Who am I to judge?) and the words that are coming out of her mouth. I didn't even know that those words existed until 9th grade and I would not have had the prowess to put them together in that order at such a young age. I would like to think that my writing has improved enough of the years that I could now be that creative in my wordsmithing if I chose to but this is not the time or the place. My mom read this for crying out loud!

As they proceed to "chat" aka yell at each other, I leaned over to Trev and distinctly remember saying, "Um, they are fighting. This is not good." Over the next couple minutes, the happy couple "chats" some more, he grabs her arm, she slaps his. I figure this is all about ready to die down so I turn my attention back to the star of the night, Tim McGraw!

Well, it seems as though I should have kept paying attention to Heidi and Spencer, er, I mean the happy couple because just as I am settling into Tim's show, all heck brakes loose and we found ourselves in the middle of World War III. It was like slow motion. The girl cocked her arm back (the one with the beer cup) and went swinging at the guys face. To her credit, she really missed bad. . . like an epic fail. I don't know how she managed to miss him completely but hit the girl in the glasses three feet away right square in the chops with her alcohol while simultaneously soaking about 5 other people near them. A can of beer comes flying the other direction (I think originally intended for the guy's head), another miss! Man, this girl is horrible. More beer on the unsuspecting victims. Did I mention that two of those victims were Trev and I? Oh, I missed that? I SMELL LIKE BEER! Now you see why my title is appropriate, yes?

So, there we stand, soaked in beer. The "dude" gives the love of his life a gentle shove backwards and storms the rest of the way up the hill. I had about four seconds to talk myself out of jumping on his back, pouncing like a wild animal, and bringing him to the floor so that the soaking wet masses could take care of him. I realize writing this now that I maybe watch a little bit too much Discovery Channel. I am a lioness. . .

Clearly, we're all a bit flustered. I smell like I've been drinking but without the side effects. And from what I've read, the smell is the worst part! Great, my first beer experience and it's in my hair and on my shirt and all I get is a whiff. (Total sarcasm here, people. Jokes, jokes.) Everyone is looking around, wondering who to kill. Wonder boy has made a swift exit out of the amphitheatre and his underage counterpart is making her way up the hill. She looks a tad distressed and all I can muster to say to her is "Are you OK, Hun?" to which she so politely replies "Where did he go?!"

Inner monologue at this very moment: "Really? You care where he went? He just pushed you and you guys just dumped beer over everyone. The ONLY words out of your mouth should be "I'm sorry that my abusive boyfriend pushed me over the edge and I got you all wet." But no. You ask me where he is? You're grounded young lady!"

Just as I'm about ready to tell the girl that I hope her KISA (that's knight in shining armor for future references) walked off the edge of a cliff, I muster a smidge of calmness and in my best "please take this for what it is, a giant blessing" tone, I say "Um, he left." I really, sincerely hope that the next words out of her mouth are "Good." but clearly, that's too much to ask for. Instead, the little snot yells in my face "I'm FIIIIINE!"

Yup. That about sums it up. She goes after her boyfriend (probably because she can't drive yet) and we are left wondering what in the heck went on. Trev is, um, not happy. Did I mention that this was his first big concert? Yeah. . . there go my plans for concert hoping next summer. He's mad, I'm wet and confused. At this point, I don't know what Tim is singing about so we decided to leave.

Before we pack up our beer-drenched blanket, Skipper comes back in and stops right next to me. I think "OK. Here we go. She has her senses back about her and I'm about to get an apology." Why do I keep hoing for things? A million dollars. World peace. A chance on Name That Tune. WHY??? My chances for this apology to actually happen are about as good as me replacing Drew Carrey as the host of The Price is Right. In true fashion, the girl stares at me for four awkward seconds, turns and walks off.

At this point I"m perplexed. Was she looking at me and contemplating if she wanted to fight with the girl that checked on her after her "bf" shoved her. . . because let's get this straight right now: if she would have started to fight me, I would have eaten her for breakfast. And I'm not kidding. I really think that I've had pieces of steak larger than she is.

The other side of me wonders if she was thinking about apologizing - I'm hoping she was. And that even though she didn't talk, she was trying to tell me "thanks" without other people seeing her weakness. Who knows what motivates people to do such a thing? Pride? Anger? Probably a fierce combination of the two.

Either way, it was time to depart. Adieu Tim and the Dancehall Doctors. Maybe we'll have another sunset. But as for last night, we quit things quite early so that we could go home, lick our wounds and make sure I didn't smell like beer.

Oh My Gosh. . .

2010-07-26T21:28:00.000-07:00

Here I am, less than a week later and I'm keeping my promise. I told you that I'm turning over a new leaf and I stick to my word. Never mind that I've said that I'm turning over a new blogging leaf nearly ten times on this blog - this time I mean it.

So, at the time of posting, I have four votes on my Blogger Guilt blog so we're going to please the loyalists first and talk about what they want to hear. Let's talk engagement, shall we? Ah. . . we shall.

So, it was a cold day in February. Sidenote: do you ever wonder why the temperature matters on stories like this? Especially when the temperature is seasonally normal? Maybe it would be worth noting if I said "It was February and 90 degrees outside" or "One snowy day in August." But no, it was February and it was cold, just like it should be. Mother Nature was behaving herself and piling on the expected 4 feet of snow, just in time for Valentine's Day weekend. Nothing special about the weather, so scratch that.

Trev and I made plans to go to Moab with his sister Hollie, her husband Jared and their two kids, Anna and Logan. We love hanging out with their family and were excited to travel with them and do what they and Trevor love - go Jeeping. I, personally, had never done such a thing. I'd been to Moab, with a Jeep actually, but my dad washed it the second that it got dirty. Trails? No. Not unless you consider the state highway a "trail". So, for all intents and purposes, I'd never been jeeping before and I was nervous with anticipation about what the weekend would bring.

Truth time: OK, I was more nervous about packing food than I was about actually going in the Jeep. You see, we've camped before but generally there was a stove or something to heat up food. Trev told me a couple of days before we left that we needed to pack food for the two of us for the entire trip - and don't forget that we'll be in the car for two days. Brilliant! So now I was less nervous about climbing cliffs in a vehicle than I was about making sure I bought the right kind of beef jerky. Who thinks like that? Me, that's who.

So we got up early Thursday morning to head down to Moab. We, of course, had to do a "Pre-Jeeping Shoot" in the kitchen while I was packing up:

Nice, huh? Who knew we were so chipper in the A-M? Yeah, me neither.

So we headed to Moab in a pretty decent snowstorm. Trev had been working on his Jeep relentlessly for the previous week so we were excited to finally be heading out for our big weekend adventure.

At this point in time, Trev and I had been dating for about six months. We'd talked about marriage and about how we felt about each other and really, it was just a waiting game at this point. . . and that went over REALLY well with me, if you can image? Historically, I've proven that I love to wait. Nope, no serious action required. Waiting is half the fun. Like right now, I'm currently waiting for the day that I no longer have to work and can just watch Oprah. I don't actually WANT that day to come - just like waiting for it. Are you catching my sarcasm? Yeah. . . waiting was no bueno.

Anyway, we took a very pleasant and surprisingly short ride and hung out all afternoon, waiting for the McKeeths to show up. We went to a nicer-than-planned dinner on Main Street. You know those times when you walk into what you think is a fairly casual dining environment in your sweatshirt and jeans, only to find out that a plate of pasta is about to cost you $20 and you are too embarrassed to leave because you are in a sweatshirt and have a desperate need to prove to these people that you, too, can afford this pasta you just normally "choose" not to indulge in. Yeah, that's what we were feeling. So. . . we ate the pasta and sadly, it was worth every penny. I say sadly because it made us want to go back. . . bad. I hate when that happens.

OK, back to the movie. The next morning I got up and threw on, surprise, a sweatshirt and jeans. At least I had the sense to straighten my hair. Hollie says that if I would have walked out in a baseball cap, she would have taken immediate action and had me do something with my hair. Thank goodness for good people in your life that have your back on really important matters. . . like your hair on what you think is just a normal day but will soon turn out to be magical.

Enter car troubles. Trev's jeep wasn't running right so we spent the next hour hanging out in the parking lot of the hotel, watching the kids ride their scooters. Good thing Trev and Jared are handy with the steal, if you know what I mean. . . I mean that literally - like a steel pipe and tools, not a gun. But thanks for the lyrics, Warren. Jeep fixed.

We started up Poison Spider Mesa, a fairly "easy" trail that only requires that you Jeep be completely vertical in a few places. Sidenote: have you ever been able to look out your front windshield and see the pavement. . . directly in front of said windshield? If your answer is "yes" then either take my condolences for your car or my congratulations for getting out of Moab alive! Wasn't expecting that.

We rode for a while and took pictures and had a swell time until we encountered a decent amount of snow on a fairly slick rock face. Just our luck, Moab had received more snow this year than they had in the previous 20 (we learned that from the locals that were sitting next to us at the previous night's expensive dinner) which makes Jeeping a little more challenging. Once we decided that we weren't going to get over this obstacles, we sat around and looked for another trail on the map. OK, truth time again. Hollie and Jared and Trev looked for another trail. I was about as useful as a three-year-old helping with a term paper. So I did what any adult would do. . . I walked around and kicked at the snow until they were finished.

Anyway, we started making our way back on the trail that we had just nearly conquered and decided to stop for lunch. It's officially test time. Did I pack the right meat, the right toppings, the right bread? Would he eat the granola bars or the jerky or the fruit? Only time would tell but I was ready for Trev's hungry stomach with an arsenal of deliciousness. After all, we'd only had cereal for breakfast which only makes you fake full (cereal and Chinese food own that category) so I know that he was hungry 20 min after we left. I was all prepared to make a meaty sandwich and sit on a rock with my cute bf and take in some sun.

I pulled out our little cooler and constructed what I thought was a pretty tasty treat. As I turned to hand it to Trev with my proud mom look, he took the sandwich and said "Can I go sit with Hollie and Jared?" Wah, waaaahhh. "You aren't going to wait for me? After I slaved for 2 min to make you a sandwich? No kiss? No Donna Reed moment?" I said to myself in total dismay. He was still standing there, waiting for approval. "Yup." That's what I mustered. "Yup." Ah, the poetic justice of it all. "Yup." Off he went.

Now what? A-ha! Another sandwich. He must have been disappointed because of the quantity. Why wouldn't he be? Look at all of this bread and meat and I made him one lousy sammy? So I slap myself together a not-so-good sandwich and rush over to join the convo. Just as Trev is polishing off his sammy (and not looking pleased), I chime in with "Want another one?!?" "Nope. Thanks." That's it. I'm never packing camping food again.

So, resigned to my non-cooking station, I stay and chat with Hollie as Trev makes his way back to the truck. He emerges with his backpack, again not looking too happy. This backpack has not left Trev's side the whole trip. Oddly enough, I didn't even think to ask what was in it. I just assumed some important Jeeping stuff that we needed. I did try to stick bread in it this very morning and got a resounding "let's put it somewhere else" but oddly enough, I didn't think twice about it and just agreed.

At this point, Trevor is walking up to me and says that he has a present for me. To answer your question, no, I didn't think anything of it. We were two days away from Valentine's so I just assumed that he had a card or something that he wanted to give me early. It was a book. A homemade book. And he asked me to read it aloud.

I started reading this stick figure story about two people (yeah, us, we're the people!) that cross paths (true) and meet up (also true) and start dating (see the pattern? TRUE) and fall in love until one day. . . and this is where I let the pictures take over.

This is the part where I start saying "oh my gosh" repeatedly. . . hence the title.

This last picture makes me laugh because I stopped reading at the proposal. Who can keep reading at a time like this? Nobody, right? Trev had to finish the part about living together forever and this being our beginning.

By the way, here is what I was shocked at:

Today we are married for four months and Trev was right, that was only our beginning. It's been the craziest and best time of my life since that day in Moab, since we met really. I couldn't have asked for more. Trev's so smart. . . I'll never fight him on going to Moab for the rest of our lives. After all, this is where our story begins. . . and who knows, I might get another ring!

Blogger Guilt

2010-07-22T13:23:00.000-07:00

A wise man once said that the first step is admitting that you have a problem. Wait, I think that was a drunk man that said that who was trying to justify why he wasn't getting help. Either way, it worked out and now the drunk man has been turned into a "wise man" and now has his seat at the head of the Folklore-Gone-Bad table with his well-thought-out quote. This random train of thought is brought to you by my brain. This is how we work people. . . What in the Heck was I Thinking? You never thought you'd be so afraid to ask.

Anyway, I took the drunk man's words to heart and am here and now admitting that I have a problem. I haven't blogged in a long time. A really long time. Since January to be exact. And boy do I have a lot of catching up to do for a variety of reasons. As I'm sitting at this very moment, I realize how much I miss this. Writing has always been a passion (not necessarily a forte, but a passion) and I've really missed it. The saddest part is that I have some GEMS to write about. Don't worry, it's going to happen. I'm admitting that I have a problem. . . see. . . first step.

OK, so now that I have found my happy place again, I'm fixing the issue. Life is too short not to blog about it, am I right or am I right. The new questions now is what comes first???? So, we'll see if anyone out there in blog-o-sphere even still checks on this dwindling masterpiece that once was and we'll take a vote.

Below you will find ten solid blog topics that I need to write about. . . the question is what order. Some of them stream together in theme but will have to be separate blog posts if I ever plan to publish so don't fret. Without further adieu, I present my life and my thoughts over the last six months. You vote, tell me your top three and we'll start wherever the numbers may lie.

Got engaged. Sure did. Want to hear about it? It's a goodie. And don't worry. . . it is to my previously mentioned blog hijacker Trevor.
Got married. What? Nothing happened between these two things? Not really. We got married 6 weeks after we got engaged. Some may say we're crazy, I say it was incredible. Vote now.
The reception. It was a week later so I get a separate blog post. What do cereal, Mario Kart and branches have in common? My reception. No, the answer is not 4-year olds everywhere. There will be pictures. . . you'll get it.
Bargain shopping. I have a lot of thoughts on the topic. Some relating to our honeymoon in Mexico, other relating to us selling two cars at once. This could get feisty.
The thief. Had our cars broken into and a ton of stuff stolen. If you thought that I wouldn't rest until I caught the perpetrator, you'd be right. And we did. . . . Intrigued?
Making a house a home. What am I, Vern Yip? It's harder than it looks. We're four months in and still don't have a place for everything.
The perfect gift. We got about 60 of them for our wedding and are still using them up. Want to hear? It was amazing.
Labeling. . . I didn't have opinions on it but that all changed at work. I'm talking literal labeling. . . not the people kind.
Got a new job. Same company, different title. And it's F-U-N. Want to hear how cool?
Last but not least. . . let's talk Reality. My love for reality TV is abundantly clear given past posts but is most certainly time to revisit. We'll talk AI, The Hills, Last Comic Standing, The City and even what could be considered trash central - You're Cut Off.

Ok, that does it folks. At least you can see that I've been thinking a lot about this and prepping for some pretty good story telling. I'm stoked to be back writing again. For those of you who follow- I'm sorry for my absence. For those of you who occasionally visit, I'm sorry for my absence. We have some major catching up to do.

Blog Hijacker. . .

2010-01-05T11:35:00.000-08:00

Ok ok ok, I know!!! It’s been awhile since I’ve written on this e-stream of life. So many events in my life are taking control thus putting this entry on the back-burner. One of the greatest blessings sat right in front of my face a couple of months ago and it was left up to me to do something about it.

Looking out into the water wondering where all my friends were that were supposed to show up to this “YSA” activity, I couldn’t help but to sit here and do some people watching. I don’t remember names (for blogging sake) but remembering that I heard about this great ward and nothing was happening. (Don’t forget I understand that it’s my responsibility to “make something happen”) Soon enough, this wonderful girl tactfully approached me with a stunning question… “Hi, what’s your name?” “Trevor” I replied. “What’s yours?” “Carlee” she replied. “Nice to meet you Carlee” I said and off went the conversation into a blissful abyss.

Yes, my name is Trevor Hansen and I have been dating Carlee for the past 3 months and have enjoyed every moment of it. For some reason, due to how we act and who we are, we fit quite well in each others lives. Now you’re probably wondering why I’m writing this and not her, and further more, if you’re a girl, you’re just dying to know the rest of that first conversation…I’ll let Carlee tell you that. But before that, the real reason I’m writing this entry (partially) is because she is in the process of helping me do what I can’t do for myself but she is good at what she does and when she offers to make me look good, of course I’m going to recognize that blessing and take it…I only hope that I can do the same for her.

Ok, I'm taking back over! It's me. . . for real. . . and you can tell by all of the "pause" dots in this last sentence. You regulars know that is a "Carlee Trademark" so you know that my blog is safely back at MY fingertips! Not that it was in much danger before - as you can see, Trev was nice and didn't write anything awful. . . or remotely damaging.

He was right - it has been a couple of months since I wrote and I have been LONGING to jot a few things down but have been swamped (lame excuse) and haven't had the time. So, yesterday, I finally put "blog entry" on my list of things to do and last night while I was helping Trevor with some business stuff (I heart PowerPoint), he decided to help me with my list. Note to self: NEVER say to Trevor "I don't know how you can help me with any of that!" because he'll find a way. I now have half of a blog entry and a letter to a missionary written and I didn't touch either of them! Funny, and true.

I guess at this point there is nothing better to blog about than the subject at hand? The main reason I have been busy is what started this whole hijacking shenanigan in the first place. Back in July (yeah, about that. . . I really should have written about this a while ago but this is public domain and I wasn't sure if I. . . you get where I'm coming from, yes? Good. Moving on.) my ward had a boating outing at the ever-classy PineView Dam. I was reluctant to go because I was already late getting there and had ZERO swimming attire right after work. In fact, I'm pretty sure I showed up in work clothes? Anyway, I made the trip up there and while I was desperately looking around for my buddies (who were all out on a boat at the time), I caught site of a new fella talking with a couple of people. Enter thought "He's cute". Exit thought. And I continued on about my business.

After standing on the beach for a bit, I noticed the attractive gent again but this time, he was sitting on the sand by himself, just watching people (a favorite hobby of mine as well) so. . . I harnessed my inner "braveries" and made the approach.

Trev gave you the first part of our convo but stopped short of the funny part - about 10 seconds into the convo. . . I FORGOT HIS NAME! Here he was, talking to me about life and goals and family (that's a lot in 10 seconds, I know. . . but I'm an excellent Ice-Breaker Question Asker - it's on my resume) and I had no idea what to call him! Ahh! How rude is that? Pretty rude. So, before this charade went any further. . .

Carlee: "Um, I'm sorry. What did you say your name was again?"

Trevor: "You know, Carlee, if you want to remember a person's name, you'll make a mental note of it."

Carlee: "Uuummmm. . ." that's really the ONLY sound that a person can make when their jaw is hanging open, fyi.

Brutally rebuffed. Here I was, trying to put myself out there and I got put in my place. I GOT PUT IN MY PLACE! That doesn't generally happen. What gives it the additional kicker is that I wasn't remotely offended but oddly intrigued!

So, as the conversation continued, I didn't listen to one thing that Trevor said - I continued to ask my canned set of questions about school and living situations and such and continued to repeat "Trevor, Trevor, Trevor, Trevor. . ." in my head, just in case I ever saw the man formerly known in my head as "Beach Guy" ever again. Good thing I remembered. . .

Trev ended up coming to our ward. . . looking me up on FaceBook (THANKS FaceBook for doing something for me besides sending me Farmville invitations) and we ended up hanging out. . . yes, literally hanging out as buds. . . for a couple of months. Then it all changed.

I'm going to gush for a minute because I'm pretty sure it's ok since Trev started this whole blog in the first place. . . but I'm a lucky girl. It's not too often that a boating activity turns into five or so months of bliss and even less often that a solid friendship turns into something so incredible. . . I couldn't ask for a better fella in my life. He makes me a better person an that, my friends, is true bliss.

Abbreviated thoughts by Scully from the X-Files (thanks to Sar - this sits in my room to this day): "The best relationships, the ones that last, are most frequently rooted in friendship. . ." Amen, Scully. Amen.

Lesson Learned. . .

2009-11-04T09:28:00.001-08:00

You know how you have those moments when you know you are supposed to do something. . . like down in your core you feel it? It's clear enough that you can almost hear an audible voice tell you what to do even though, clearly, there is nothing there but you and your conscience? You should do what it says. . . whatever it is. . .whenever it is. Because even if the worst that comes from not doing it is a bad night's sleep, it's not worth it.
I need to do better at that. . . .

South Carolina. . . agree or disagree?

2009-09-30T11:46:00.000-07:00

So am I falling off my blogging? Yup. I was doing SO good for a while and then, well, life took over. Which would make you think that I should be blogging extra since I'm having such amazing times, right? Right. I should be. But I can either live it or write about it at this point - so I'm not a multi-tasker! Sue me! :)

Last week my sweet momma and I went on a girl vacation to South Carolina. I know what you're thinking because I was asked the same set of questions by every person that found out we were going there: 1 - Oh, do you have family there? Nope. 2 - Oh, what's in South Carolina? I don't know. 3 - So you're just going for fun? Yes. Sidenote: this last question was usually accompanied by an awkward 'I don't understand' kind of face that made me feel like I was vacationing on the moon. It's South Carolina, people! What's the big deal? I'm not going to Guam!

Anyway, we made our way to the southern heat and hospitality last Wednesday and spent five fun-filled days in/around Charleston. It was a great time. So, by way of an "agree or disagree" list, I'll tell you how the trip went. You ready?

Boiled Peanuts - Agree. Surprisingly. We ate these the first night that we were there and I was really expecting to bit into the nut and it would taste kind of like hot peanut butter? False. it doesn't even taste like a nut once it's boiled. It actually took on the flavor and consistency of a cooked pinto bean. Since I like beans, it wasn't so repulsive. BUT, fair warning, if you don't like beans, you may stay away from this little treat if you ever go south.
Grits - Disagree. I know, people are going to be mad about this one and say that I "didn't prepare them right" but I just didn't love them. The place that we ate even had the market on grits (they were on the Food Network for their shrimp and grits meal so for all intents and purposes, I ate the Cadillac of grits). It's basically not bad but not good - it doesn't taste like much of anything which makes me wonder, "Why waste the calories?" Plus, you have to be suspicious about a food that people make with salt or sugar or butter or syrup or shrimp or. . . too many non-related options. Yuck.
Houses - Agree. The architecture in Charleston is incredible. The houses are all right next to each other and look incredibly small but when you look at them, they go back FOREVER! They are gorgeous and old and large and every porch has ceiling fans on it. The houses on Rainbow Row there are so cool - each house is a different 'Easter' color and it makes for a stellar view on the waterfront. We also saw the house that was used as Allie's house on the Notebook and it's actually the largest single dwelling in all of Charleston. 24,000 square feet and 35 bedrooms, each with their own fireplace. It's huge!
Animals - Disagree, mostly. I agree with the horses 100 percent. In fact one of my favorite things we did was take a carriage ride through the city. It was lovely and the horses were very impressive and large. What I don't agree with is how crazy people are about their animals. . . they LOVE them to an unhealthy point... and I love animals so if I'm saying that... OK, so they really just love things that LOOK like their animals. I can't tell you how many stores we went in that had mugs that looked like dogs and place mats that looked like cats and clothes that said really gross things: (If you know my unhealthy fear of animal hair, you'll understand why I think this is gross) "No outfit is complete without cat hair" and, this almost made me throw up "Chef not responsible for dog hair in the food". Are you sick? I am. Dry heaving. As we speak.
Ghosts - Agree! I love being scared, a lot. So nothing tickles my fancy more than a ghost tour through the second most haunted city n the WORLD! That's right, more paranormal activity than any other place in the US. How cool is that? We took a night ghost tour through the city and saw some of the most haunted places in Charleston including a hotel that Robert E. Lee supposedly haunts to this day, a residence turned restaurant where an old woman fell down the stairs and died and now haunts the second floor, a park where a woman was hung and she is still seen wandering the park and the courthouse in her wedding dress and of course, the pirates! There was a group of pirates that were captured in Charleston and eventually hanged in the park. There is an old superstition that says that if a pirate dies at sea, he must be buried at sea and if a pirate dies on land, he must be buried on land in order for his soul to rest. Well of course we can't have pirate souls resting in peace! No! They are bad guys. So, after these pirates were hanged, their bodies were dropped into the ocean at low tide and carried out to sea so their spirits are still active and if you walk in the park at night with any sort of change in your pockets, the sound of the coins summon the pirate spirits! Creepy? Yeah. And SO fun!
Missing Life - Disagree. It's funny to me that no matter how much fun I'm having on vacation, I always have some anxiety about being away from home and out of my routine. I must like my life an awful lot, I suppose because I always find myself longing for the things and people that I left at home. It's a weird phenom and I don't know how to get past it. . . but then maybe I don't need to.
Beach - Agree, whole-hearted. On our last day my mom and I drove to Hilton Head and walked on the beach. The city is really beautiful and the beach was amazing. it was an overcast day but we didn't get rained on except in transit. It was breathtaking. My mom touched the Atlantic for the first time (other than the bay in Maryland) and it was great just to sit and put my feet in the sand.

Overall, the trip was a booming success. South Carolina = AGREE! The city was beautiful and we got to spend some rock-solid mother-daughter time for five days. I love to travel and it was fab to get another notch in my belt.

For you 'visual' people, thanks for putting up with the writing; I'm posting some pics so you get something out of this too!! :)

Hilton Head beach

Ghost Tour. . . we looked scared, right? Yeah, didn't think so either.

This is the giant house from The Notebook. . . 24,000 square feet!

I don't know who lives here but I think they must be important?

This was a pond at one of the plantations we visited. The bridge was bright red but my camera was not cooperating on the color highlight.

See. . . cool bridge. Oh, and cool mom.

Isn't this so. . . Charleston? Do you see the alligator? Me neither because if there was one, i would NOT have stayed to take this picture.

Drayton Hall. . . oldest preserved plantation house.

Those are cannonballs. . . OK, those are cannonballs that are welded together but I thought this was funny?

The first day we got there it rained and rained. . . and I saw this. it went from ocean to ocean over the city. Breathtakingly beautiful.

There are 187 churches on the peninsula of Charleston. . . which is no larger really than Kaysville. 187! And they think us Mormons over-do it?! This was my favorite.

Sweet Nostalgia. . .

2009-08-04T14:12:00.000-07:00

Don't you love it when things in your past life rear their head and make you all. . . um. . .pensive? Are you impressed with that word? It was most fitting for this blog!

This last weekend I was invited by some sweet friends of mine to see their sealing in the Manti Temple. I know that seems like a long trip from the great, white North but for those that know my love for Sanpete County, you can imagine the sheer excitement to have an excuse to see my old stomping grounds on my way to the temple. Ahh, sweet Ephraim.

I went to Snow College for my first two years of school and I'm pretty sure that I left a sizable chunk of my heart there. Maybe 25%? And that's a lot considering how far the rest of it needs to spread, right? I think so too. There are still a lot of people I plan on loving one day!!

Sidenote: For those of you vying for the other 75%, I can tell you that any sort of tie that you can make to Ephraim and/or Snow College will improve your chances greatly! Seriously, it's like I can't help myself.

Anyway, as we drove into the valley, I got really excited and really nervous all at the same time. What was this nervousness? It's not like I was going there to meet some long-lost love or something. I was just going back to Ephraim.

I realized that it could only be that my memories of that time in my life were so precious and exciting that I didn't want to see anything that would change them. I always want the scenery to be the same and I think I secretly hoped that even the faces would seem familiar. I have this image in my head of how it's supposed to forever be and any alteration of that may make me question those memories.

I think that more than anything else, I wanted so badly for it all to feel the same. When I think of my time at Snow and how crazy and fun and busy it was, I can't help but feel it again. Those years were some of the happiest times in my life and I think I'm still looking for things that make me feel that bliss that once came so easily.

Why was it so great? Let me tell you. And I'd like to apologize to Hannah for having to sit through all of these memories live as we made our way through the town. Hopefully, this will inspire some future Badger, some day. . .

The Crew - you won't find a group of more amazingly talented, beautiful and brilliant girls than this set that I met my freshman year at Snow. . . in all places but the newspaper room. We came from a variety of backgrounds and at the same time found the best common ground when writing about life. We wrote about boys, we wrote about bad manners, we even kissed a paper once to have our lips as our signatures. Without school, I would have missed out on some of the spiciest people in my life. We are still friends today and I couldn't exist without them.

Opportunities - while I was at Snow, I was able to be on the Activities Committee which after a long run of not participating in student government was a big confidence builder for me. I was in the know because I had to be and it made me feel great. I was so proud. As mentioned, I wrote for the paper in several facets and got the opportunity to be the Editor-in-Chief my second year at school which taught me about my love for writing, my ability to push through pain and stay up all night (literally) and how hard it is to actually have to fire someone. All important things that explain who I am today.

Lastly, ahhh, the KAGE. That tag line still runs through my head "You're listening to KAGJ-FM Ephraim, 89.5, the KAGE." I LOVED being a DJ. I had some very funny shows, so very funny co-hosts and some really weird assignments. That made me really discover my love for music and my love for sports as the Sports Director my sophomore year. Play-by-play? You bet I did! Where else can you do amazing things like that? One of the guys that I did play-by-play on is in the NBA now. Sweet action, Jackson. . .

The Varsity house is torn down now which makes me sad but that radio booth will live on forever as a place where my life unfolded in front of the public. I broadcast the news on 9/11 from that booth, all day. I saw my first streaker run past our window and hurt himself badly when he tripped and fell on the porch. Ah, memories.

Roomies - Snow was the first chance I had to learn to live with people other than my family and it was NOT easy most of the time but well worth it. I learned the value of tagging your leftovers in the fridge, doing the dishes anyway. . . even though they aren't yours, sharing space, sharing boys, sharing the bathroom. Basically, it was very Sesame Street. I learned to share.

I also learned that it is completely ok to be ridiculous - which I owe to my sophomore year roomies. They danced on bar stools in the living room, we listened to the conversations of the boys next door when they dropped my roommate off from a date, we took couches to the drive-in. . . and rode on them on the way home, they made quilts (I watched of course because I did NOT sign up for that class) that took over the entire apartment. It was all very girly and ridiculous. That's also where I learned to embrace the "girlyness" despite the fact that I did play-by-play on the weekends. because of them, I like to dress up and I love when my hair is curly, even though it takes extra time.

I learned a lot about love that year from my roommates and no, not the platonic kind. I shared a room with a most wonderful girl who worked and went to school and had an incredible boyfriend and she sacrificed so much sleep to keep her life in balance and give all things their proper attention, including him. I can't tell you how many times I woke up and found her sleeping, fully clothed, in the middle of her laundry on her bed because she was too tired to move it when she finally got home the night before. Love is about sacrifice. . . thanks Jenny.

Western Swing - this is the part where I learn how to step out of the box a bit and learn to love something new. Aren't these life lessons great?! I signed up to take a Western Swing class with my roommates and had the best time doing it. We line danced and did the cowboy cha-cha. We did the swing and, sigh, the two step. I knew I loved to dance before then but not how much. I LOVE to dance. Not just country dance although I think the two-step a wonderfully romantic lost art (hence the sigh). I love all dancing. I tried something new and found out that not only could I do it, I liked it. It was a great experience. If I would only pick up a paint brush. . . who knows!

Randomness - we did a LOT of weird things in Ephraim because we had no choice. We threw things off the stadium, we dropped a piano from a crane, we put my friend Vale in a fake jail cell until we raised enough money for a charity to let him out. Sometimes it's the unplanned, nonsensical things that make life joyous. I need to take more time to just go with the flow - you never know where it will lead.

Now it's safe to say that I didn't capture everything about my life in Ephraim and why it was so great. Most of those things are hidden somewhere in the back of my mind and will re-surface one day when it counts. I guess the point is that I really believe that great things/great lessons can stem out of what seems like nothing much. . . even in the middle of Sanpete County.

Gift Registry. . .

2009-07-31T11:18:00.000-07:00

A long time ago my buddy Linds (What up Lyman!?!? Miss your face!) started telling me about this great philosophy that she had about gift registry. She basically said that you should be able to register for gifts like at Target or Macy's any time - birthdays, house warming, because you had a bad day, whatever. Everyone should have a standing registry at all major department stores just IN CASE someone feels like buying you a gift. Frankly, I agree with her.

Sidenote: more people should participate in random gift buying. It's fun to give someone something for no reason. They are surprised and you are excited and oh, I'm getting excited talking about it! it's so fun!

So really, why should only the engaged and preggers people get to have all the fun? Sometimes I want a registry just so I can play with the scanner gun but mostly, I'd like the convenience of never having to take back a gift. That's the point of the registry, right? Get the person things that they need or would like without doubling up with the other people that might be on the same hunt. Well I submit for your pondering: Why does that only apply when you are having a baby or getting hitched?

I, for instance, like to read which in turn leads to an unhealthy spending habit on books. I love buying all sorts of books and a week doesn't generally go buy when I don't discuss, to some extent, a book that I'm reading or a book that I've heard of that I'd like to buy. People know this about me and I generally get a book at most holidays and special occasions. (Good thing I don't have an unhealthy liking for diamonds or anything! Books are cheap!) Anyway, there have been several occasions when I've had multiple copies of these fine pieces of literature because "frequent discussion of books" + "unhealthy spending habit" + "need for gift" = buying the same thing for me when I already own it because I can't control myself and wait for someone to get it for me. You get the point. If I had a registry, I could mark things off as I received them and add things as new items came out that I liked and hazzah! Gift-return free forever.

Enter my new passion: Amazon Wish List. I am going out on a limb and telling you that I think everyone should have one and manage it accordingly. I don't normally endorse things like this so take note!

If Amazon were a normal site like say, OldNavy.com or something, you can see why it would get boring to make a wish list because all that would be on it is clothes. Not Amazon, no, no. Because of the very eclectic nature of the site, you can put anything (literally) on your wish list! Watches, books, dvds, clothing, anything. It's basically a gift from above. And it's SO easy to use. . . just find an item that you like and click once and it's been added. Then, when someone wants to know what gifts you may be in the market for, they can just jump on Amazon and take a look! A-mazing!

Amazon also offers this great feature where you can put in important dates to remember and will send you reminders to do your shopping. I haven't used it yet but I think it's brilliant. I generally remember birthdays but only on the day of. . . er. . . or the day after! What can I say, I'm not perfect.

Now I know what you are thinking: "I don't want to have to pay shipping on something." No, no! You don't have to. Just because you can see the list on Amazon and see what they like doesn't mean you have to buy it there! You can just get an idea of what I want and find it elsewhere if you are so inclined or if time doesn't allot for shipping.

So I know this blog sounds like I'm just telling you where to find the list of gifts that I like (which to this point, it kind of is) but that isn't my whole point. . . hahahaha. I would REALLY love it if everyone had a list! I waste a lot of time looking and pondering and searching for what I think people don't have when if they just had a up-to-date gift registry, all of our lives would be a lot easier when it came to gift-purchasing. Plus, who doesn't love getting what they want? That's what I thought. No hands.

Linds was right, as usual.

Story Time. . .

2009-07-27T14:29:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I've had this funny story in my pocket for over a week now. I promised several people that I would blog about it (sorry I'm tardy, Rach) and better late than never, I guess? Plus, it has a visual so that makes it all better, right? Right. On we go. . .

I heart The Fray. They recently came to Utah for the third time and for my third time seeing them in concert (I'm not obsessed. . .), we made our way out to USANA Amphitheater for the show on a splendidly hot Saturday night. This amphitheater is one of my favorite places to see concerts - outdoors, views of the valley, close to the copper mine with one road in and out for thousands of people. . . ok wait, the good things. It's a beautiful venue with great sound and you get to feel all "arts in the park"ish when you are there because you are probably sitting on a blanket on the grass.

So me, my three buddies and every high school senior in the state made our way out to the amphitheater and found our grassy patch of choice. Just as a voice of warning, there can be several oddities when choosing to sit in the grass next to other people in blankets. They are, in no particular order, as follows:

1. The close sitter - people have surprisingly small personal bubbles when it comes to what I have termed as "blanket territory". They think "Well, if we were in chairs we would be right next to each other so it's ok with blankets to lap over our neighbors." I beg to differ. The reason I chose the grass rather than a seat is so that you aren't sharing an armrest with me. Cool? Move over.

2. No inhibitions - did you know that if you bring a blanket OFF your bed to sit on at a concert, it doesn't mean you are IN your bed while watching said concert? Some people don't know that. Or maybe their blanket magically transports them (mentally only, obviously) to it's original resting place like a bedroom or a living room? If so, I could use one of those magic blankets at my desk at work. Reality check - they don't exist. You're in public, not at home, in private. . . you get where I'm going with this?

3. The sqeezers - these people are the 'close sitters' on crack. They come late because they are too indy-pop for the opening bands. To their chagrin, no grass left. "What? Where did all of these people come from?" they are left asking themselves. "Nevermind them! I see a 3x3 patch of grass right over. . ." Um, no. Not only are you choosing to sit too close to me but to the four other groups surrounding your patch of grass! No squeezing in. Because odds are, you will also be 'no inhibitions' girl as well and I'll dry heave.

Ok, enough of that little tangent. back to the story.

So, we make our home on the grass and are having a splendid time just enjoying the sun and the people watching that can only happen in West Valley, UT. As I'm taking a look at the goodies that will, without a doubt, be my entertainment for the night, my eye caught a couple just sitting down about 15 feet to my right. Nice looking couple - very typical Utah. For the sake of the story, let's call them Dave and Emily. Can you see them in your head? Dave with his brown hair, part to the right, 5'9, t-shirt and levi cargo shorts. Emily with her cute shirt and khaki shorts to her knees, hair cut to her shoulders. Both barefoot after having removed their flip flops. You got it?

Well, within the first five minutes, I make an assessment about their situation (as I tend to do when I'm people watching). Dave is clearly a Jr at BYU and Emily just finished her freshman year. . . and she just loved her roommates, a LOT! They had limited interaction last semester and Dave decided to ask her to The Fray for their first date - a concert is cool and shows that he's into music. The Fray is enough off the beaten-path that he isn't the typical "BYU Guy" (hey, it could have been a Colors concert) and they are known for their piano-based rhythms so there is a chance for cuddling by the end of the night.

Good story, huh? I was all set for this scene to unwind throughout the night. I only wish I had some popcorn.

Just as my couple, Dave and Emily, get settled on their levi-patchwork quilt, a large group of people excitedly walk up to greet them. Friends? I don't know. They look a little young to be buddies with my friends (hahaha) but they know each other well. . . well enough that there was squealing upon greeting. Roommates? Man, I just can't figure it out. We'll assess the situation as we move forward and see if we can't figure out a place for them.

Wait, what is this? Two more girls walk up and Dave half hugs, have noogies them. Sister?!? What? You are going to let your little sister sit within earshot of you on your first date with Emily? Are you mad, man?

Sidenote: Are you seeing how into this I am getting? I know, it's ridiculous! But I couldn't help myself! The show hadn't started and I needed something to focus on. Needless to say at this point, i watched VERY little of the show once it did start. . .

So there we are, Dave and Emily, kid sister and friend sitting just below them and mystery group of too-young-to-be-buddies friends off to the right. All nice and settled in for the concert of a lifetime.

As the show started, my BYU theory was confirmed as Dave stood up to dance. He did his very best impression of an airplane all over their blanket. Emily didn't seem to mind it as it added some movement to her rhythmless world. He was flailing all over the place and my mind immediately put him in the middle of a YSA dance.

Sidenote: Let it be known that some of the coolest people I know went to BYU and loved it. But they aren't typical BYU. And if you live in Utah, you know the look that I'm talking about. I'm not saying bad things, I'm just saying there IS a look.

So, we got through the opening bands with Dave and Emily making polite conversation with each other. Dave would laugh at what she said and she would giggle back. You could tell they were talking about the deep things in life like how great the band was and how Dave liked them before they were popular and how Emily was really looking forward to starting her elementary school teaching curriculum in two years, if she wasn't married by then, wink, wink. man, i was LOVING my life! This is way better than anything on daytime TV!!

As The Fray started their set, I saw Emily reach for her camera. . . BRILLIANT! Finally, the touch barrier was to be broken. It was time for the ever awkward 'I'll take a picture of us' move that requires your heads to be close enough that you are both in frame which means. . . you guessed it, butterflies!! Well, in true girly fashion, Emily didn't like the first several pictures they took, requiring Dave's face to get closer to hers each time she adjusted her hairstyle. Finally, it was decided that in order to get the proper shot, Dave would institute the help of Kid Sister ("wherever I go, she's going to go. . ." song has double meaning so I get double points for using it!) to snap the appropriate first-date-but-may-be-on-our-wedding-video picture. So, Dave and Emily made their way lower on the grassy null to pose in front of the stage.

What's this? Dave's arms around Emily for the pic? No, not a typo. I said armS. He was in a full embrace and she certainly didn't seem to mind. My head started racing with all the possibilities of twins and car seats and family outings at Zions. This was going WELL!

Well, Dave clearly took the lack of a slap in the face to me all systems are a go and it was free-range touching from that point on. NO you dirty minds, nothing inappropriate. I'm talking hand on her back when she leaned into say something, hand on her back when she's standing close enough, hand on her SHOULDER. You know, the really exciting stuff. I was so proud of Brave Dave.

Soon enough, the happy couple was sitting back on their blanket and relaxing to the incredible acoustics of the concert when he went for it. Dave crossed his legs and was sitting Indian-style and put his hand RIGHT on his kneecap. Not like naturally rested it there. It was more like a "Hey, I'm putting my hand here so if we happen to bump hands, I can easily grab yours. . ." kind of a placement. It was bold.

In all two of my dating experiences, I've learned that one thing is for sure: if the hand is accessible, it's fair game. Everyone knows that if a girl doesn't want to touch you, she has no issue with sitting with her arms away from you all night!

So, there sits Emily, legs also crossed. Just as I'm ready for her hand to move to her knee. . . nothing. She puts her hands in her lap! What are you DOING, Emily?!?! He can't go fishing around down there, trying to grab your hand! The poor guy is going out on a limb and you are making this really hard! Wait, hands are coming up. . . I'm getting excited. . . WHAT! Crossed arms!?! You are seriously going to cross your arms?! I almost yelled at her. Poor Dave looked completely rejected and she acted like she had no idea. (In all fairness, she's maybe 20 so maybe she didn't have an idea.) You are a tease, Emily! That's what you are. All of this BYU flirty and swaying and pseudo-dancing and you fold you arms? You have got to be kidding me.

Well, this agonizing scene went on for a solid 20 minutes. Dave acting like it wasn't a big deal but secretly being hurt. Emily, folding her arms like we were in the Arctic Tundra when it was 90 degrees outside. I was thoroughly disappointed.

I need to slip in a quick reminder that all of this is going on in my head. I never once talked to these people or found out their actual situation. While the events are real, the attitudes and feeling are strictly coming from Carlee Land and the opinions expressed are not necessarily those of the actual parties involved.

So, the concert is nearing a close and everyone stands up for the encore. I'm feeling about as dejected as Dave is. I had big plans for this little family and their kids with names like Cooper but spelled with a K and Mendenhall, for obvious reasons.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. Dave was making a final move for it. They were standing next to each other, nearly swaying and he was going to go for the full hug, part two. Here he goes. . . IT'S A SUCCESS! She doesn't punch him or shy away awkwardly but totally embraces it and starts to sway with Dave! That's right, swaying.

It's at this gleeful moment that I can't help myself. I realize that this has been a funny enough experience (again, in my head) tat I'll need to blog about it. And what goes more perfectly with a blog than a picture? Nothing. My blog must contain visuals.

So. . . click.

In the pitch black of night, I took a picture of the happy couple from behind. That's "Dave and Emily" on their first date.

Um, if the story ended here, all would be well, right? Of course it didn't end here. Remember when I said it was the black of night? And there was clearly a flash? Well, just as I took the picture and was reveling in my accomplishment, there was a tap on my shoulder.

Blonde Girl: "Excuse me, did you just take a picture of those two people?"

Me: "Uh, yeah. . ."

Blonde Girl: "I know both of them. . ."

Me: "Uuuhhh. . . (this is the part where I start wondering how feisty this girl is and if she is going to try and play camera police and try and come after me or something. BUT, I had done a lot of work in making up this story and it was too good not to get a picture. So me, deciding that I didn't feel bad for taking the photo said. . .) Awesome. They are both going to be on my blog."

Cricket, cricket. . . nothingness abounds as blonde girl and her date stare at me. What now?!?!

Blonde girl's date breaks the silence:

Date: "Any chance you could send that picture to me because I've been watching them all night and they are ridiculous! He's a total wuss!"

Hazzah! No bar fight! (Ok, there was no bar but you get what I'm saying). They thought it was as funny as we did. In fact, blonde girl snuck up behind them and got a picture pointing at them and laughing. It was so great!!

So, was I right? You better believe I asked about those two and what their story was. It was their first date. Check. They didn't meet at BYU. How is that possible?!?!? They didn't meet at school because they were EFY counselors together!!! hahaha. So pegged. Sister and friend, check. Remember the random group of "friends" that came and sat with them? Those were their kids at EFY LOVING the fact that their counselors were dating. Hence her hesitancy! Hence the awkwardness! She wasn't a tease, she just didn't want to be watched by her EFY kids! Little did she know the biggest spy of all was just to the other side and back a couple of blankets. . .

Could I be a professional writer?

2009-07-27T14:20:00.000-07:00

You BET I could! Look at what i found on the front page of my heart. . . I mean Yahoo! news this afternoon:

http://omg.yahoo.com/news/access-top-10-reality-romances-gone-wrong/25652

Does this sound familiar? Does it? Yeah? That's because I wrote about this last month and frankly, my list was pretty dead on. I got all of the "real" relationships on there - you know the ones that started BEFORE the show started - with the exception of Britt and K-Fed (which didn't stand a chance so why bother) and Hugh (who makes a living of infidelity and blondes so I hardly call that a 'relationship', especially in the singular form!).

Man, Hollywood Insider, here I come! Better yet, Yahoo!, can I have a gig on your OMG site?

I'm an addict. . .

2009-07-02T11:12:00.000-07:00

I think that I maybe should have called my blog 'Confessions of an adult addict' because I've made a LOT of disclosures on this blog - probably a lot that you, my 5 person readership (I've added one - glad you found me Stephanie and don't be afraid of what you read, just trust it! haha) don't necessarily "get" but I do try to make them sound as ridiculous as they actually are so at least you get some entertainment out of my habits. Today, friends, is no different. I have a confession. . .

I am addicted to the news. I heart television news, that's no lie. In fact, I have what can be considered an unhealthy relationship with the Today Show (hey Crew buddies, I know you hear me on this) since I watch it every morning while I get ready and have done since my sophomore year in college. So that would mean Matt Lauer and I have pow-wowed every morning for. . . carry the one. . . ok, a LONGER time than his mom probably did his laundry. Anyway, I'm only home for about the first hour of it which would be considered the 'hardcore' part of the Today Show (before the barbecues and wedding planning starts), which means I'm generally listening to reports on the state of the economy, our ongoing dispute with, well, everyone, and women being attacked by pet chimpanzees. You know, really tough news.

But that's not the main problem. In fact, I think it's kind of a good habit to have. That way if the president ever stops by my office, I can give him props for talking about Utah health care and the like.

No, the problem isn't the credible, what-is-happening-in-Iran-type news. I am talking about lending accuracy to any kind of news, even the outrageous stuff. Primarily the kind that is provided by the really, truly credible sites like, say, the front page of Yahoo!

I work in an office and my primary job consists of email and Internet. No, not the snooping kind of Internet or the dirty kind either (I do, in fact, do credible work). BUT, because my work demands that I log-on maybe 50 times a day, you can imagine the importance of my homepage selection and all that it offers me in a quick, 10 sec view. Enter Yahoo!

You know that box that shows up on the top of the page with the teasers about all the latest news stories? Did you know that it refreshes like every hour, sometimes multiple times an hour? You probably didn't because you aren't as crazy about it as I am!

Oh, sweet tabbed window. You not only allow me to view the top stories and pictures at a glance, but you categorize it so nicely. You give me features, entertainment, sports and even LIFE! (Sometimes I click on that last one, secretly hoping that there is a checklist about how to do life better.) What more could a girl ask for? Five headlines on each tab. That is surely enough to keep a girl abreast of the latest happenings without having to read each major news outlet because let's be real - if it's THAT important, it'll be on Yahoo! I love you tabbed window. You complete me. DO YOU SEE MY PROBLEM?

Since when is Yahoo! been in your top five list of credible news sources? Yeah, that's what I thought. CNN, NBC, CBS, LA Times and Yahoo! Of course. I will throw myself a bone and say that often times, the Yahoo! news alerts come from these more credible sources and are just compiled into the love of my life. . . er, I mean the news window, but still. They have writers that are busting out stories all the time as well. Mostly, they appear in the 'Entertainment' portion of the site because some would say that it's the least important to be accurate there but I would beg to differ.

If the news window isn't enough, there is another group of links to national, world and local news below it. Sidenote: Isn't it funny that we put entertainment and life at the top and world news BELOW that? Oh, I didn't think so either - it's not a joking matter. Entertainment news is of utmost importance. The world is as it should be! Haha. Anyway, I can see what's being reported in all news outlets, even down to our our Standard Examiner right there! It's completely convenient and completely overwhelming and I completely love it.

Top stories, bottom stories, video stories, week in pictures. Love advice, car advice, life advice, food advice. Who signed what, who dated what, who attempted what, who said what. It's ALL there, waiting for my perusal.

Is there anyway to make a job out of this because if I'm not careful about my self-control, I may no longer have one. Oh, I wonder if there is an article about self-control on Yahoo!?

It’s the Cele-breakup. . .

2009-06-25T15:43:00.000-07:00

Alas, dear friends, I’m sure that you’ve all heard the news that the reality television world ended this week with the demise of Jon and Kate. That’s right, the world’s bravest parents could no longer hack it and they are getting divorced. It’s a sad world we live in when even $75,000 an episode can’t help you get over yourself long enough to make your marriage work.

Jon and Kate now enter the books as the most recent Cele-breakup (I think I maybe invented that word and I may be proud of it. . . but if you think I heard it somewhere and it’s not a Carlee Original, let me know and I’ll give credit where it’s due, cool?) in Hollywood. . . er. . . Pennsylvania. It’s a good thing they chose to stay living out of LA so that they could have some semblance of a “normal life” with Mady, Cara, Leah, Hannah, Alexis, Joel, Collin and Aaden. Wait, what part of 8 kids seems like a normal life? None part? I didn’t think so either. Sidenote – I maybe got all of those names by memory. . . without a struggle. I AM a watcher of this show and have become rather attached to the Gosselin family, like so many of you who maybe won’t admit it. But I’m airing my dirty laundry – I watch it when it’s on and maybe Tivo it sometimes. . .

As much as I would LOVE to write an entire blog about the Gosselin, I think it would lose its luster after paragraph four. After all, they have been the center of the universe for the last 6 months because he’s supposedly cheating and so is she and the kids are overworked and yadda, yadda. Good tabloid stuff.

So, rather than focus solely on this most recent tragedy, I would like to walk you through some of my favorite Cele-breakups over the past years. My definition of “favorite” is termed as loosely as those couples that I, at the very minimum, became at least mildly invested in – entertainment-wise or emotionally, doesn’t matter. . . I was, to some degree, sad to see them go. So, in no particular order than that of my memory. . .

Kate and Jon (I listed her first because that’s how she’d want it. I’m surprised it hasn’t changed yet actually. . .)

Cause of Break-up: Reported Infidelity, Greed, Selfishness

It’s the freshest. Sorry. But I’ll be brief. Plus, I feel the worst for them because they were once a legitimate family.
In a break-up where both parents claim that it always has been and still will be “all about the kids,” I ask, “Is it really?” At first I loved this story because they lived in a sweet house in Pennsylvania and were SO grateful for the opportunities that they were given because they never thought they would be able to experience them without the aid of the Hiltons or whoever else threw out a freebee. Now that Kate is expecting. . . not another child but a hand-out. . . it’s lost its humility and it’s “real-ness”.

Wouldn’t the smart thing be to try life again off camera rather than go for the big D in court? As pointed out by my genius sister-in-law, isn’t she still making money speaking and from royalties on her books? Call me crazy but I think that getting the cameras off the property may be the best thing for the kids and the marriage. It’s “all about the kids”. Yup. All about the great stuff that you get because of the kids. Again, $75,000 per episode people. You are FINE to walk away and no, the show doesn’t have to go on.
PS, nice earrings on the show this week, Jon. Good luck apartment hunting.

Nick and Jessica

Cause of Break-up: Infidelity, Career Competition, Age (metal or physical, I can’t tell)

Remember them? Remember the Chicken-of-the-Sea incident? Remember how this show was a complete train wreck – it was gruesome enough that you really wanted to look away but you couldn’t help but stare. I loved it SO much.

This is the classic case of the “Battle of the Careers” syndrome – lower-tiered boy-bander versus the teenie bopper goddess (you know, the one that was overlooked) and daddy’s girl (in every awkward sense of the word) turned bad movie actress. This couple was a great case of puppy love and I loved that they both loved being with a spouse that was as hot as they were. Did that make sense? It did in my head.

I had every hope that these two would make it because she was innocent and he was cool and it felt like my senior year in high school (not me personally, but all the people that I envied) with friends and concerts and music videos and perfume lines. . . oh, good times! But of course, it took a bad turn.

There were talks of her cheating and I think maybe some of him doing the same – I know he went out with Kim Kardashian before she was who she is but I may be getting my stories confused. Either way, there was strife and a break-up and another MTV show down the toilet.

Shauna Moakler and Travis Barker

Cause of Break-up: Who the heck knows. . . and which time?

Thanks again MTV. A beauty queen marries a punk band drummer and they live happily-ever. . . um, not so much. They were ok for a little while – until the cameras got them too! Is anyone seeing a trend?

Are you wondering why I liked these people so much? Entertainment purposes, of course. They were actually pretty normal with each other and their kids on television, but that continual stoned look on Barker’s face throughout their short stint on cable made me smell nothing but trouble. And boy was I correct!

They broke up, and then got back together, and then broke up again, I think? Can anyone confirm that?

The Hogans

Cause of Break-up: What WASN’T weird/wrong with this family?

I am actually kind of surprised that this didn’t make more of a splash than it did. Not the break-up but the fact that this could be America’s craziest family. I’m not even kidding. Here is what we’re working with:

Former pro-wrestler marries ridiculous blond and has two kids – a daughter who tries to be a singer in the Brittney sense of the word and a Son who doesn’t realize he’s Caucasian and kills a guy drag racing (which I’m pretty positive isn’t his only legal offense). This family survives over 20 YEARS! That’s right. What could they possibly do to add to the already existing drama? Get a television show, of course. Now the world can fully critique their craziness, adding to the stress of their lives and causing their eventual demise. Now Hulk’s dating a woman who looks like his daughter (gross) and Linda (Mrs. Hulk) is dating a guy that’s younger than his daughter (double gross). Welcome to tv land.

Ok, that is my short list in a LONG blog. But, is anyone else seeing a pattern here? Sign up to do a television show with your family, there is a good chance that if you don’t keep your head on straight, you’re going to end up with the big “D” as well. The list goes on - Dave Nivaro and Carmen Electra, Brittney and K-Fed (although I’d really like to think that was doomed from the get-go, no cable assistance required) and so on and so on. And yet they still continue to do it. . . I’m perplexed.

I’d love to think Tori and Dean are going to make it (I better not end up tearing up over the latest gossip in 5 months because I like them too) because she has been RIDICULOUSLY famous her entire life. But Dean may have a challenge in his newly acquired fame. They are a cute family though. I worry (not as in worry everyday worry, just thoughts really) that the built-in drama that comes with being a Spelling could lead to their demise. They seem oddly grounded though, so I hope it continues because it's a win for Oygen!

Let’s be real though – the only family that is going to come out of this black hole of marriage is the Duggars. In fact, they are the only ones to actually ADD a marriage to their repertoire so maybe that makes up for one of the losses? Maybe they could actually give the families of reality tv a win if they get the rest of their kids married off. They could load balance the entire thing!! Looks like you have to have a serious religious dedication and 18 kids to avoid media scrutiny and a wandering eye.

Is it me or has etiquette changed?

2009-06-23T14:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Toilet Texter (Again),

I am writing this letter to apologize. In what I thought was the most grievous offense of my time (texting in the potty), I was hasty in letting you know how disgusted I was in your actions. I apologize for my brash accusations that you had the poorest taste in all the land. Don’t get me wrong, I still think you have very poor taste, just not the poorest.

All Sincerity,
Carlee
--------------------------------

Dear Toilet Talker,

Congratulations, it is official. You have officially overtaken the Toilet Texter as the owner of the most grievous offense to date. I begin by explaining myself.

I’ve never understood phones in bathrooms. Not ever. It amazes me when I go to a hotel and as a manifestation of their class, they put a phone near the toilet. What is classy about that? Is it a sign of business prowess – knowing that on occasion a businessman might have a potty emergency in the middle of a conference call and this divine phone placement will save him the embarrassment of excusing himself in the middle of said call and he can stay on the line while he handles his other “business”? Think about it before you answer. . . is it MORE embarrassing to excuse yourself or to have a potential client hear you tinkle? Think hard little grasshopper.

Is the phone in there in case, while reading the daily comics, you get the urge to order room service? Isn’t that an odd time to be thinking about food INTAKE? Ok, I’m dry heaving. Enough said.

So, that said, what makes you think that I would agree with cell phones in the bathroom? I’ve caught several of your kind, Toilet Talker, mid conversation with the statement from my end of the phone “Are you in the bathroom?” Those Toilet Talkers stutter and stammer to explain themselves while I quickly retort, “Gross. Call me back.” At least they realize the error of their ways and are mildly embarrassed by this pre-historic display of manners.

You, my friend, have taken this to a whole new level. Home bathroom conversations, while still gross, are at least private (I hope) between the two parties involved. You, Public Restroom Toilet Talker, are exposing your conversation for all to hear – all that are retreating to the restroom for a few quiet moments of their own that is.

What did I just hear? You dialed the phone while shutting the stall door? We are in for something very problematic. Are you saying “hello” to me or to your phone buddy? I NEED to know. “Why?” you ask? Because when I answer you and tell you that “I’m fine,” (when I secretly want to say ‘Why are you talking to your stall neighbor? That’s weird. I know we’re girls but that’s still weird.’), I become the weird one that is talking to YOU over the stall. Is that fair? No! You started this mess and now I look like the weirdo to all the bathroom attendees at this very moment for violating bathroom quiet time protocol! In addition, I’ve apparently “annoyed” you for answering a question that was CLEARLY not directed at me. Do you see the irony because it’s bleeding from every pore?

What did you just say? Did you just tell your phone buddy that people must think you are weird for talking on the phone in the bathroom? Ok, now we have a larger issue. You KNOW that this is weird! I was about to give you some leeway and just chalk this mishap up to bad parenting or something but you acknowledge that it’s weird?!?! Now I don’t have sympathy because this is pure rebellion for the laws of nature and all bathroom etiquette guidelines.

I feel like maybe the bathroom isn’t the place to conduct your phone business. Especially when all I hear is cordiality and nonsensical banter coming from your side, I can’t imagine that the person on the other end is having a philosophically-rooted conversation and all you have to say is “Totally.”
I appreciate your attention to the matter.

The Newest Friend of the Toilet Texter,
Carlee

PS: While we’re on the topic. . . If you can only do one of the following without somehow interfering or overlapping with your ability to participate in the other (I leave it to your best judgment to define “interfering”), I beg you to make the choice before you start and only do one thing at a time:

Texting vs Driving
Talking vs Driving
Make-up vs Driving
Eating vs Driving
Really Anything vs Driving
Talking vs Phone Talking (you know you LOVE those background conversations while I’m telling you a story on the phone)
Texting vs Meetings (church or otherwise but especially church)
Talking vs Eating (or just chewing for that matter)
Skiing vs Doing Your Taxes (name that movie)

Hello, my friends, hello. . .

2009-06-07T17:34:00.000-07:00

So remember how I am really good about blogging about things that don't matter - like run-ins at the bank or weird hugging moments or hair in my trailmix but I am a FAILURE at blogging about all of the important stuff? You want proof? I've got your proof. Here are the things that have happened since my last blog:

Changed jobs. That's right, after almost 5 long years I finally left the DMark and moved jobs to a cool ad agency in Farmington - ThomasARTS. I'm having a blast there and learning a lot so that's always a positive thing, yes? I do miss some of my fam back at the DMark as well as the major comfort zone that I was in but the challenge has been amazing.

Went to Europe. That's right. Biggest trip of my life and I didn't blog about it. Not for a second. I was a good girl and wrote about the trip in my actual journal (yes, I dusted it off just for the occasion) but that doesn't help the two of you that read my blog! The good news is that I did post pics on FaceBook so I hope that redeemed me a little. I'll throw couple onto the end of this blog for proof but anyway, my apologies.

Our trip couldn't have been more amazing. We flew into Venice, took a train to Rome, flew back to Venice and then left on a cruise that took us to Dubrovnik Croatia, Ephesus Turkey, and Corfu and Santorini Greece. It was a most magical time (how silly was that but it REALLY was!). We spent the trip sightseeing and taking pics and dancing the night away on the boat. I was so exhausted when we got home that it literally took me an entire week to recover. It was so amazing. I have to get back there.

Got a roommate. She moved in this weekend. She's totally cute and it's fun to have someone living with me. . . at least I assume that it will be fun because I've seen her like twice since she moved her stuff in on Friday! It will be good for me to figure out how to live with someone again. . . man, it has been a LONG time!

So I'm sure a lot of other really petty things have happened that I should have blogged about but didn't. I need to be better at this - again. I keep saying that but just forget to keep up! Maybe I should set a reminder on my phone? Mid-year resolution?

Europe Pics - a few for proof!

The Pitfalls of Returning. . .

2009-03-13T11:54:00.000-07:00

So I got back from vacation almost a week ago and man, what an adjustment. I didn't really realize until I'd been working several days that I literally spent my vacation in a vegetative state. . . literally. I read, I slept, I wrote a really long and arduously read blog late one night (sorry about that) and I played with my niece. That sums up the entire week.

Now that I've been a week back in my real life, I've thought of all of the pitfalls of coming home from a vacation like the one I took last week. They are as follows:

Work. I know, you are shocked that this is first on my list. But work in Mexico consisted of walking up two flights of stairs on my way back from the pool or figuring out that daunting Sudoku puzzle that just didn't seem to come out right. That was all the work that I did for an entire week. Now, there is typing and emails and spreadsheets and oh, I'm exhausted even talking about it. I think I need to lay down.

Speaking of. . . naps. I basically slept everywhere on vacation: in the chair by the pool, in my bed, on the boat, at the dinner table. . . really, wherever I was tired. Now, I can't seem to fall asleep anywhere - even in my own 'I can't get enough of how soft this is' bed in my own 'it is so nice to have carpet on the floor' house. I tried sneaking into the mother's lounge at work to nap for a minute during lunch. You need a key. I want to sleep bad enough that I'm thinking about a minor criminal offense (stealing said key) just to sleep. Sad? Yeah, I thought so too!

Did you know that it's easier to work out on the elliptical if it is overlooking a golf course and a lake through a large picture window? Well, it is. Now when I run I just look at the female body builder right in front of me that has a really awkward posture when she runs. It's not the same. There is a lake. . . of sweat.

I keep waiting for a bar maid to pass my cubicle and ask me what I'll have to drink. It hasn't happened. And when I asked the secretary to get me a pina colada, she said some things that were NOT very nice. Come on people. Where is the service? I was at the pool for an hour and was asked at least three times what I wanted. I've been at work for 5 days and no such thing has happened. What a crock.

It's not acceptable to go anywhere in your swimming suit. In Mexico, that was completely appropriate attire for any occasion. Apparently it's not part of the "dress code" in the office. Whatever that means.

Every day in Mexico, I had some form of hot breakfast - french toast, eggs, muffins, bacon, you name it. There were all sorts of good ways to start off your day. Every morning since I've been home I've gone to my kitchen and nada. No person saying "What can I make you?" followed quickly by "It's a pleasure." I'm making my own dang breakfast again. Ladies and Gents, I'd like to introduce you to my Quaker friend. He makes oatmeal. Oh wait, I mean I make oatmeal.

I'm not bitter. . . just sad that it's over. So if anyone is heading out any time soon, let me know. I'd love an invitation. . . and a pina colada.

Overcoming Weird Personal Boundaries

2009-03-06T17:49:00.000-08:00

So generally, I would consider myself a "go-getter". . . for the most part. . . ish. Ok, in some things. Man, is this getting vague or what? My point is that on a general basis, I feel like I don't have a lot of boundaries that I haven't conquered (or at least attacked with some decent force) in my life. I feel pretty comfortable with the things that I've done.

What am I getting at? Sidenote: not once have I ever gotten to a point this fast in my writing so why in the WORLD are you expecting me to now? Let me tell you about some of the personal battles that I feel like I've conquered in my life (no laughing now, this is some serious business and in some courts of law considered highly personal :) ):

Carlee vs the Swing set: my brother used to try and get me to lay down under the swing with my arms by my sides and see how close he could get to my face while swinging without actually kicking me. The trick was that if I covered my eyes (as was a natural reaction), I would, inevitably, be kicked. It took a LOT of trust but I finally did it. He passed right over me (the first time) and I was proud.

Carlee vs the Trailer Park Bully: I punched a kid. Knocked him on his rear. But it was for a good cause. He was picking on a smaller, weaker kid. And when he pushed me, I punched him and he cried. . . a lot. I felt bad. But it was the first time in my life when I had to make a choice about what I valued - walk away and let it be (nothing happens to me) or stand up for what I thought was right and risk getting in trouble. I was proud, still am. Maybe I should have called this 'Carlee vs the Moral Dilemma'?

Carlee vs Death: ok, clearly this wasn't a direct fight. No, you didn't miss something. I knew what death meant and how it emotionally effected me at an early age. I had three grandparents die over the course of one year when I was about 10. I've lost close friends in accidents, grandparents after long battles and several pets. I'm no stranger to it and I feel like after all of the practice with it, I understand it and can finally say that I have peace with the process and all that it means.

I could continue (you all know THAT for sure!) but I won't. My point is that in 26 years, I figured that I had run into a lot of the boundaries in my life - physical, spiritual, emotional and mental - that I really had to overcome. I was wrong.

Today I uncovered a pretty strong boundary that I don't even know I was aware of until it was right in my face. It all started at the spa. . .

I've gotten my fare share of pedis and manis and even had a facial last time I was in Mexico so I'm no stranger to the robe and the weird scents and the sheets and such at the spa. It's rather soothing. Today was my first go-round with hydrotherapy (you go from hot to cold to hot to cold, all in some form of water) and I loved it. Today was also my first go round with a full back massage. Enter the issue.

Did you know that in a spa, when they massage your back, they consider your "back" as the area that runs from the bottom of your skull to the bottom of your tailbone and everything in between? (I bet you didn't see this coming, did ya? you thought this was going to be a serious blog!) Well, I didn't know that. So you can imagine my surprise when little Teresa from Mexico pulled the sheet down WAY lower than I thought should would to go to town on my back. Sidenote: I am openly admitting that a 5'2", 110 pound woman completely kicked my trash today. Completely. I feel like I got in a fistfight and lost. Trailer park bully, you have your revenge!!

Anyway, when this happened, I had to keep from audibly saying "Um, do I know you? WHAT are you doing!?" Right then and there, all of my self-image issues rose right into my throat and I realized how uncomfortable I am not being clothed. The severity of this may have some religious ties. . . or it may stem from all of the books I've been reading about Afghanistan and women in burquas. . . but either way, it was a serious, in-your-face phobia! One that in my 26 years I am yet to encounter??? RANDOM!

So, as I laid there and Teresa started rubbing me down ( I know, awkward visual. . . and I'm sorry but that's how I felt, that phrase explains exactly how I felt!), I was completely uncomfortable and tense which completely defeats the purpose of the massage, right? I decided to have a little talk with myself about overcoming my phobia in record time and how being uncomfortable would get me nothing but a painful back rub and wasted spa time provided by my loving parents. What's a girl to do? I'm here, I'm on the bed, I'm not clothed, this lady could CLEARLY beat me up, where do we go from here?

I decided to take control of the situation and do it fast so I wasn't wasting any one's time. I adopted my new favorite saying which is "Carlee, it's only awkward if you let it be." (You can use it too but it won't be as effective if you use my name so you may want to insert your own there.) Guess what? It worked! Granted, it took a few minutes to really settle down but it happened and I made it through! Was it the best thing I've ever done? No. But now I know that next time it could be and that's where the win comes in.

So this overly exerted blog is to issue a challenge: do something that makes you uncomfortable and stretches you just a little bit. You may surprise yourself. I know there are plenty of "Tony Robbins" types out there telling you to do the same and maybe I'm harnessing my inner Tony but I'm telling you that a shock to the system is exactly what I needed to get back on the right path. Even if you "fail" (aka, the outcome isn't exactly what you thought or wanted) or it takes longer than anticipated (like me and my 5 minute freakout today), it's a good thing. Thanks Martha. Oh, and then report back. I want to know what you did (and I need ideas and challenges) and I'll keep you posted on my "brave" moments moving forward.

It's all about Mexico. . . or Olivia.

2009-03-03T13:44:00.000-08:00

Hola and Buenos Tardes from beautiful Playa del Carmen. Right now, I am sitting on the balcony of our room and listening to the waves crash against the wall down below. Wanna see? Here you go:

I literally took that two minutes ago so you can see what I'm seeing! Don't you feel like you're right in the action? Ok, maybe my photography isn't THAT good but I tried. Can you see the parasailing going on above the second palm tree from the left? You can't tell but the parachute is a giant yellow smiley face. I guess they think the smiley face is less intrusive to the sharks below? Hahaha. . . just kidding. . . sort of.

Well, so far, the trip has been a-to the-mazing. I've done exactly what I wanted to do which is sleep and sun. . . and sleep in the sun. . . and get in the pool. . . and sleep some more. I don't think that I realized how tired I've gotten lately until I got here and have basically slept for three days. Don't worry though, I have had the energy to get dressed and walk down to the pool before I nap so I'm getting a really sweet sunburn while I'm here! Oh, and I'm doing some great reading between naps - A Thousand Splendid Suns. Love it. For those of you that are aware of the New Year's Resolution, this will be book number 5.

The trip has been so relaxing and a perfect time with my family. They are a blast to vaca with. It's Olivia's first time out of the country and the people of Mexico LOVE her. She's a little flirt and I'd expect nothing less. I got the surprise of my life on day one when I opened our hotel door and she came walkin in like she owned the place. . . that's right, my baby girl has joined the ranks of the walkers! I'm so proud.

Needless to say, we've had a blast having her here. Here are some pics of her adventure so far:

She has pretty much spent most of her time on the cold floor. I don't blame her. . . it's hot here!
I got a flower from the front desk on our arrival. . . she made quick work of that.

This is exactly why I love her. . . this face. . . she's the happiest girl EVER!

Olivia quickly discovered that she is a pool efficianado! She is basically a Phelps in training.

And yes, she attracts some great audiences. . . great, great audiences. :)

Anyway, I figure there are enough pics of the baby to keep the fam happy for a while. I haven't taken too many pics of anything but the view from our room so I'll drop another one in here of what it looks like at sunset:

We've been out shopping and really, literally at the pool 90% of our vacation thus far which means all of my expectations have been met. Nothing too crazy (which is odd for me as anyone who knows me can attest that I am the queen of weird things happening) but that's to be expected when you're sleeping all day. I am having some funny dreams though. . . :) Oh, one weird thing did happen:

I got kissed on the cheek by a drunk, too-old-for-my-mom, Mexican salesman last night so that was an adventure. He was trying to sell my dad some Cuban cigars and trying to sell my mom on the fact that he was going to be the newest member of our family. Note to the audience at large: if you plan on calling my mom "mother-in-law", there are a couple of things you should know: First, you may want to check with me first because there is only one way left into this family and I kind of need to have a say. We're not in the business of arranged marriages (although sometimes I think that might not be a bad idea. Can you see me selling hair braiding and booze in Mexico for a living?) so please include me first. Sidenote: this doesn't mean that I'm picky or really that I'd even refuse the offer under most circumstances, it's just a sign of courtesy for heaven's sake! Let a girl feel like she's important. Second, make sure that you don't have hard tequila/cigar breath when you call my mom "mother-in-law" for the first time. Third, don't hit on me while simulateously trying to sell me a "Foach" purse. That's just a major disadvantage to you because I WILL be distracted by the purse and it will probably win every time. And by "probabaly" win, I mean it WILL win. Final take-home tally? Purse: one. Men: zero. Wah, waaaahhh!

With that, I must bid you adios! More adventures to come. . . I hope. I'll try and do something besides lay by the pool before the next update!

Click, click, click. . .

2009-01-28T11:15:00.000-08:00

Dear Toilet Texter,
I can hear you. There are only two stalls in this mini bathroom so the only two options of me not hearing you (more toilets that can flush to cover up the clicking sound of your keyboard or far enough distance between the toilets that I can't hear you) are dead. I hear you in the next stall over, typing away like texting in public is a sin and you don't want to be caught doing it in the hallway so you'll just have at it during your lunch bathroom break. It's audible. . . and echoes ever so faintly in this tin can.

Two things I wish:

First, that whatever you were texting was really, really important because not only did I hear you but so did the other three people waiting in line to use your stall. (They looked like they had to go, by the way and you really held them up).

Second, that no matter my own telephone circumstances or eventual cell phone demise, I never inherit your blackberry. Gross.

Oh, and PS, if you are texting people in the bathroom and they are responding, don't put your vibrating phone on top of the tp holder. If you are trying to inconspicuous, you really just blew it.

Thanks,
Carlee

Um. . . Funny. . . but maybe only to me??

2009-01-21T11:42:00.000-08:00

So I went on a trip yesterday to visit one of our clients in sunny So. Cal (sidenote: oh my gosh was it warm! Like 80 degrees and I didn't need a coat and I was in HEAVEN! As opposed to right now, I'm sitting at my desk with my coat on, wishing I had a space heater, and hoping that my fingers don't fall off as I press the keyboard!). It was a good day and we were very productive and yadda, yadda. It was good.

My work trip is not the point of this blog because if it were, you would all stop reading. The point was to tell you that I was in the airport yesterday. . . early. Not too early but right at that point where everyone else was in the airport so it was mass chaos and people were everywhere! Let me outline a couple of things that were happening in the SLC airport on Tuesday this week:

Military transfer day. Yeah, a bunch of Marines (sidenote: God bless each of you) were being sent off to do field training and such. I sat next to one on my flight that was on his was to Camp Pendleton to do training. . . and behind one. . . and diagonal. . . you get my point. There were lots of them. We had maybe 15 on our flight ALONE and the plane held like 50 people so that was a pretty good ratio! Anyway, there were about 200 of these strapping soldiers in the airport yesterday - what a site.

Missionary Drop off Day. For anyone who has been to the Salt Lake airport on a Tuesday, you know that it is the LDS Missionary day where they all triumphantly leave the MTC and venture to their assignments near and far. There are always a ton of them and they look so nervous and sweet and kind of act like they have never been to the airport before BECAUSE they are so nervous and sweet. It kind of inhibits the rest of us from getting through the line quickly. BUT, they are good kids and again, selfless act of service. Good work!

Sundance. So even though the crowds aren't near what they have been in the past (thanks Mr President for the largest inauguration/coronation in the history of the world), there are still a LOT of people that are here for Sundance. Not just A to D list celebs (which are fab, by the way. . . mainly the D list ones. . . go Kathy Griffin!) but also the average Jo's that fall into one of two categories: 1. They are from California and want to be "part of that" and come out here to hob nob and ski with the celebs and locals and prove how cool and how "California" they are (sidenote: most of these people do make more in a year than I will see over the course of my life so I can't really badmouth them when I want to be one! :) ) or 2. Smaller town folks who do love to ski but are really coming hear to catch a glimpse of the aforementioned celebs in their natural habitat, like they are the freaking Crocodile Hunter (sidenote: these are the same people that buy the maps to the star's homes in California, hoping to see them taking out their trash and then they happen to be invited in for a deep conversation about their last movie and then shopping and lunch on Rodeo. "It's very Pretty Woman. . . except that whole hooker thing." I can't really make fun of them either because I AM one.)

Wow - what a rant! Anyway, it is this last group of airport carnivores that I wish to address because it's the subject for my excitement! The Sundancers. So I mentioned that I love D-list celebs, yes? Well I do. They are the ones that you are either sure you've heard the name before but can't put a face on it, have NEVER heard the name before but you know them once you've seen them or finally, my favorite group, those who are known for something really ridiculous.

Examples: Last time I went to Sundance, I held the door for Andrew Keegan at a pizza place on Main Street. Who? That's what everyone says. But follow the link and you'll see that not only is he hot but you recognize him. Name? Nope. No idea. Face? Yup, how could you forget that? That would qualify him as a type 2 D-lister.

So now that I've given you a novel of a background. . . I had my second D-lister run-in at the airport yesterday and it was SO fab. As I walked through the lobby, trying to squirm my way through the missionaries, I looked to my left and saw a familiar face (sidenote: unless at this very moment you agree not to judge me, you can't continue reading because this is putting me in a very awkward place by admitting that I know who this person is because he is famous for a very weird thing that I in no way, shape or form have ever seen first hand but I DO watch TMZ on occasion and I pay attention, ok? Gosh. Don't judge.). Who was it? Ron Jeremy (I am not linking you to his profile because I can only imagine and frankly, I don't want to imagine so if you want to see him, look him up yourself). SO GROSS! He's basically a 70s/80s porn star who is super gross and super unattractive which leads me to wonder how he got into the industry but that's what he's known for which really, qualifies him for a type three D-lister but for a lot of people, he could be any of the other categories as well. He looked JUST like he does when he does interviews on television (see how careful I was when I worded that? :) Seriously, don't judge.) which is old and gross and frankly, a little bit evil. Can you hear me talking really excitedly and fast? I was - hence the run-on sentences! Sorry.

So there I was, surrounded my new missionaries, recognizing an old man who is known for being gross and a porn star and I didn't know what to do! Do I ask him for his autograph and give it to someone as a really funny but inappropriate joke or do I go tell the missionaries that there is a man by the wall that needs a serious talking to? I stood for for literally 2 minutes debating and then realized how ridiculous this quandary was and went through security. As I sat and waited to board the plane, I laughed to myself about my little debacle and how flustered I got. Man that was funny, but maybe only to me.

Snack on This. . .

2009-01-15T11:38:00.000-08:00

Hello again! yeah, yeah, it's been a while. I know. Apologies to the two people that read my blog. . .hi mom.

So for the last six weeks (that's right six) I have been getting up early to go to the gym. By early I mean before 6:00 which, for ALL intents and purposes, is "early" and even misses "really early" by only about an hour. I'm pretty proud of my stick-to-it-ivness on this go-round of working out. . . especially in the morning. I think it's almost made me sort of a morning person. . . ish.

What I don't love is the results of this whole thing. I've been eating better (with the exception of my treat frenzy in Seattle last weekend! But it was worth every calorie) and working up a massive sweat everyday and guess what? I look the same. Six weeks - you've got to be kidding me!

So, in honor of my six weeks mark of being healthier and not seeing much difference, I've decided to share with the world (or my two readers) the things I notice about this process. I kind of consider myself an expert since I've been on some form of diet my entire life. Commentary is welcome so bring it on!

"Things" about Getting Healthy

1. I can now efficiently go 30+ minutes on the elliptical trainer without feeling like I will die a certain death when I get off. I might look like I'm going to die with my Hamblin red face syndrome (it almost does look purple some mornings) but I feel fine. So, I can breathe better after intense cardio but WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH THE SIZE OF MY PANTS? Nothing. So I don't care. And telling me that it shows that I'm getting healthier doesn't help. I want to shrink.

2. Diet food sucks. . . even when it's regular food. I eat chicken all the time, on or off a diet. But when I'm on a diet, it's extra dry and lacks flavor even if I cooked it the same as normal. My mind plays the dirtiest tricks to get me to cheat! On the flip side, chocolate has never smelled or looked so tasty.

3. I get the hiccups when I eat white rice??? What kind of weirdness? And I've been eating it every day with the previously mentioned dry chicken for lunch so I'm hiccupping for a solid 30 minutes per day for a while now. Does hiccupping burn calories? I hope so because by the time I'm done, I feel more exhausted than when I go 30 minutes on the elliptical.

4. What is with the girl at the gym that wants to look like a man? It's scary and frankly, a little weird and gross. And she has a squirly husband that she probably can bench press. She should never run in front of me at the gym because I giggle at her wide, man I have a stick up my bum, stance and I'm afraid one day she'll hit me and it will all be over.

5. I am hungry all the time. All the time. Like I can't stop being hungry whether I eat carrots or a chunk of meat. Always hungry. The awkward part of that is that people probably always see me eating and then they think "Um, she should go to the gym and not eat so much. . ."!!! See! How do I win? I'm trying people! Gosh.

Ok, I have to go to a meeting now so I have to stop this thought process but there you have it. I'm I completely thinking wrong? Have the Dieting Devil grabbed hold and made me bitter? I think I'm just in a slump. . . that better not last another 6 weeks or I swear. . . :)

Update. . .

2008-11-12T12:13:00.001-08:00

In my "Picky, Picky. . ." blog that I wrote just a short time ago, I told you of a nasty hair clump that I located in my trail mix. Sick, yes? Well. . . I've been meaning to update you on the outcome.

So after a couple of weeks of waiting for a response from Kar's Nuts, I finally sent an email saying "Hello! Hair in my trailmix! Where you at, fool?" Ok, so maybe it was more like "Um, I was wondering if maybe you might have some sort of update. . ." as my passive aggressive side reared it's ugly head yet again when confronted with a sticky (or hairy, as the case may be) situation. I got an email back saying "Your refund has been mailed."

I don't know about you but my reaction seemed fitting to the sitaution and that was for me to say "What!?" audibly in my cube and immediately hit "Reply" on said email. Second email: "I appreciate the refund of my 75 cents but the bigger question here is what was in the trailmix? I think I should know because I was about to eat it and did, in fact, sonsume some of what was in the contaninated bag. Tell me that and keep your money." Pretty good, yeah. So I waited. . . and waited. . . and finally got a response. . . in the mail.

It's a letter basincally saying "Woops. .. sorry about the hair. We'll do better next time. And here's some money to shut up about it."

What is that you see? $2 worth of ratty bills? I'm pretty sure their HR person took it out of his smelly wallet so he could close the issue and make me go away. Here's what I have to say to that:

"Dr. Mr HR at Kar's Nuts: You not telling me what was in the package automatically leads me to think it was nasty enough that you don't want to tell me. . . so you didn't. You weren't even creative enough to say it was fibers from some sort of bushel or something? Come on!

So, I'm going to tell the world of bloggers that it was nasty rat hair in my trailmix. A big clump of it. Thanks for the $2 that you gave me from your swear jar on your desk but I don't accept hush money. In fact, the bills are kind of gross and I don't want to touch them so they will be pinned to my wall in their original envelope as a reminder that I won, you lost. Love, Carlee."

The battle continues. . .

Tag. . .

2008-11-05T11:55:00.001-08:00

Ok, Sar!! I take your tag and I run with it!! My sister-in-law tagged me and basically challenged me to fill this out so here I go. I'll be tagging some others at the end so don't you worry!
These are kind of hard but I think I can hack it. I may be a bit embarassed once this is through? We'll see.

8 Favorite TV Shows
1. The Office
2. Grey's Anatomy (nobody hearts McDreamy like I do. . since he was in Can't Buy Me Love)
3. Best Week Ever
4. The Today Show (except during election season, boo for Matt and Meredith)
5. Real World/Road Rules Challenges
6. The Hills (its like a train-wreck. . . I can't look away even though NOTHING ever happens)
7. The Family Guy
8. Any type of volleyball being broadcast

8 Things I did yesterday
1. Worked a really long day
2. VOTED
3. Visits with the Stake RS presidency
4. Carpooled (this is a nod to me saving the earth, not an excuse for you to call me lame because it's on the list!)
5. Swimming with my mom
6. Caught up on a little tivo action
7. Wrote my last blog
8. Nearly froze when I went to bed so I cursed the snow!

8 Things I look forward to
1. The election being over. (agreed 1,000 times over. . . without the endorsement)
2. A night with nothing to do!
3. Olivia's first Christmas. (also agreed! Sar put this one and I can't wait for that too!)
4. Mexico with the fam early next year
5. Mediterranean cruise in April!! (Italy, Greece, Turkey, Croatia. . . peeing my pants!)
6. Nights out with the girls
7. BYU and Utah volleyball game (Friday the 14th at 7:00 at the U if you're interested)
8. Finishing my project at work!

8 Favorite Restaurants
1. Red Robin
2. Applebees
3. Paradise Bakery
4. Crown Burger
5. My mom's house
6. Sarah's House
7. PF Chang's
8. Cutler's

8 Things on my wish list
1. A paid-off house!
2. A finished basement.
3. People to share my house with (aka a husband and some kids :))
4. To be happy at my job MOST of the time.
5. To be healthier all-around.
6. A maid.
7. More time.
8. More patience.

Ok, now the fun part. . . I tag Steph and Linds, Alisa, Mandy and Rach. Good Luck!!

We're Missing the Point. . .

2008-11-04T11:12:00.000-08:00

So in general I try to keep my blog very lighthearted and generally goofy and full of nonsense because honestly, that's where I feel most secure and I think generally as a blog reader, we have the most fun. Right? Good, glad we all agree!

Every now and again I feel brave enough to step out of my goofy comfort zone to make a statement and this may be one of the most uncomfortable blogs I have written in my life because I have no idea what kind of banter and Carlee hating this may erupt. BUT, I will say that if you walk away from this thinking less of me then you are missing the spirit of what I'm writing and I'd ask that you take a breath and read again. Can we all agree to that as well? Good. Please know that no part of this is meant to be mean spirited but is, for sure, meant to bring up a point. That preface complete, here we go. . .

So today is a HUGE day in our country's history. In what can only be considered one of the most important and most heated elections of all time, the country will decide what values are important and elect the man that they think can get the job done. I'm not here to plug either the conservative war vet or the extreme liberal because for a girl that finds herself wavering between the extremes, it's really a selection of the lesser of two evils.

What I would like to talk about is the second most heated debate for the election now and that is Proposition 8. For any of you living under a rock for the last many moons, it's the piece of legislation on the ballot in California that would change California's constitution to not allow gay marriage. Everyone from extreme political activists to those who are yet to have a political opinion have some sort of view on this. In fact, this very morning I sat in my cubicle and listened to a 30 minute conversation about how there are better uses for money than to push Proposition 8 and how people are intolerant and the like. Good for America that this is getting people to pay attention to legislation. Bad for many of us because in reality, I think we are missing the point.

The injustice in all of this is that the crux of this and many legislations like it has nothing to do with human rights. Now before you go all crazy on me, listen for a second. I grant that Proposition 8 in and of itself has everything to do with human rights but this is now how the debate over such oracles began. The bottom line to all of this debate has nothing to do with gay rights or straight rights or blue rights or purple rights; the main debate SHOULD be over who is allowed to make such decisions. The courts have ruled on more than one occasion that homosexuals have the right to be married and are entitled to all rights and privileges that a married couple enjoys. My question is is it the court's decision to make or should the legislature, the voice of the masses, be responsible for such a decision? That's the debate and that SHOULD be the issue.

As an LDS woman my personal views on the topic relate heavily to the conservative but that speaks nothing as to my love and appreciation for people who are living an alternative lifestyle. I may not agree with that lifestyle but I do love them just the same. Some of the brightest and most incredible people I know chose such a lifestyle in fact. But I do adamantly oppose the people that are preaching that anyone who is for Proposition 8 is some sort of bigot or hateful. I certainly have none of those feelings. But I do feel (as does the majority of this country, mind you) that it isn't up to the judicial branch, a court in any form, to make the decisions on the legality of such a union but it should, in fact, be left to the legislature to make these decisions as representatives of the masses.

It is really sad to me that the true issue behind all of this is masked by calling people haters and bigots. That's not the case and frankly, I think we're missing the point.

Halloween!

2008-10-31T13:22:00.000-07:00

So I've talked for years about how crazy my work gets on Halloween and this year was absolutely NO exception. In fact, it could have been one of the best years yet. Here's a picture extravaganza to show you what I mean. We had group costumes coupled with cubicle decorations and some really cool stand-alone projects so I'll try and walk you through in the best order I can!

A yard blow-up toy in the office. . .

A fortune teller's cart. . .
Morbid??

A freak show circus. . .

Scooby Doo. . . and a mysterious smoke coming from the door?

And last but for sure not the least - the ode to Toy Story. . .

It was such a fun year and there is so much more. . . but this ought to serve to tell you how crazy this place gets! Happy Halloween all!!

You know what I love???

2008-10-03T21:33:00.000-07:00

My niece. . .

Sweet Seattle. . .

2008-10-03T20:19:00.000-07:00

So it's October. . . and it's a large testament to how fast the year went. What happened?? Good grief. I was thinking about how fast the year went and realized that I never blogged about my trip to Seattle in July. Although I did write a little poem for my girls a couple of blogs ago, I never documented the trip. I got some STELLAR pics and some good videos that must be shown so rather than talk my way through it, I'll show you! Ladies and gentlemen. . . welcome to Seattle!

Steph and I walked around the Space Needle while Linds had some errands to run. I made my best attempt at taking a "postcard shot" of the towering needle. How'd I do??

This is me in front of the Ducks building. That's right, the Ducks. What's a Seattle Duck you may be asking? Well let me just show you!

The ducks are a car/boat/booze cruise that takes you all around Seattle and eventually into the bay. The captain is weird but a decent tour guide, all things considered. The concept is a bit off-center but the view from the lake. . .

Pretty spectacular, eh? Man, the city is absolutely amazing!

Um, Grey's Anatomy anyone? We also saw the place where Derek is going to build his house with Meredith is Isaquah. (Is that right, Linds or Steph?)

Steph and Linds humored me and took me to the Farmer's Market. . . you know, where they throw fish? I didn't put the fish throwers on here but I did add a picture of a donut tosser below.

Looks a little crazy but he was a great donut tosser. . . and the donuts were pretty delish.

Fresh flowers like a girl couldn't even imagine!!! Lilies that just made my entire day!

My girls at the Farmers Market. That was by far one of my favorite things!

Both major league fields in Seattle are RIGHT next to each other.

Look familiar? Name that movie. . . the toll under the bridge!

Now we're talking!! Steph is learning to play the guitar and this was her rocker pose! I discovered some new musical favs after Seattle, one of which was the highlight of this livingroom concert - Jason Mraz.

And Linds' rocker pose! Don't hold back ladies, show me what you're workin' with!

I didn't have a guitar but I did try to go grunge. Hat from a the trendy outdoor grunge store, check. Aviator glasses, check. Seattle attitude, double check!

OK, to finish off this picture party, I thought about showing you the video of the crazy old lady dancing in the park (it's a goodie) but no, no, I needed a more appropriate tribute. So, in hopes of spring-boarding their Internet music career, I give you Steph and Linds singing one of my now favorite songs. Thanks again for a great trip ladies!

Picky, Picky. . .

2008-09-22T11:36:00.000-07:00

"Hello Again!" (Good movie. . . any of you that have seen it realize Shelley Long's acting prowess in said movie and for those of you who haven't but do love shows like Cheers and movies like The Money Pit, check it out - she's just as zany!) SO it's been a few weeks but I have a valid excuse this time because things have been busier than ever! I just moved into a new house (Sidenote: blog and pics to come but I haven't been able to take pictures of said house yet because there are still boxes!!! I'll get there though, I swear. . . by the moon and the stars in the sky. . . I'll be there. . . I mean I swear I'll take pictures and post them!) so things have been crazy with packing and cleaning and closing, oh my!
Also, before I go any further I have to draw your attention to a new blog that's linked on What in the Heck was I Thinking? It's Dall and Sar's blog (my fam) and you can clearly see that I have what can only be thought of as the cutest niece ever. I'm only sending you away from my blog so you ca see her cute face. I hope she knows how much I love her by this simple act!! OK, go. . . go on. . . go look. . . but come back because I have so stuff to talk about!!
There. . . wasn't she so adorable? Just as a sidenote, she loves JT and tries drinking out of big kid cups (picture on the blog of that too!) and that makes me extra proud.
OK, so the name of this blog is "Picky, Picky. . " and I bet you are wondering why. If you aren't, go ahead and stop reading because I'm about to tell you:
There are a few things in life that are a "must" for me. First, I must have a clean bathroom. Hygiene is important, especially in the place where you are performing hygiene! I like a nice, hot shower and a toilet which is why I don't do well on things like Pioneer Trek where outhouses are a staple and you can shower if you wash your head under a cooler faucet! Second, don't ever mess with my bed so that it delays my sleeping. A person's bed is a sanctuary that should not be violated in even the most extreme circumstances. I love jokes but putting stuff in a person's bed that takes time to clean or dry or whatever is not a joke, it's uncalled for. So for those friends in close proximity that have some access to my bed on occasion that think it would "be funny to see what she does. . ." I'll stop you right now and tell you it's not funny. I won't laugh, I'll get angry. Unless you short-sheet my bed and that's kind of funny. (thanks mom and dad for teaching me such tricks!). Third, don't cost me unnecessary money or time. If I loose money or time (which really are the same because we all know. . . TIME IS MONEY!! Hahahaha, couldn't resist that cliche!) because you do something stupid, I will not be OK with that. I know that sounds uncommon but think about it. . . seriously. Happens all the time.
Anything beyond those three things are pretty much fair game because I think that common sense should rule and reign at that point. Sidenote: common sense should really rule and reign BEFORE the time and money thing but I'm throwing that out there as a freebie in-case your meter isn't working!
I guess my point is that I don't require much so when I get disappointed, I really get hosed. Some of the weirdest and most frustrating things happen and I wonder what kind of giggle fate is getting at my expense. Am I harder to please than most people? Maybe. . . but I don't think so. You tell me if these wouldn't "tweak your melon"! (Name that movie and I'll buy you an ice cream or something!)
One morning I was running late leaving the house (as usual) and I didn't have time to grab a granola bar. So, upon arriving at work completely famished (OK, maybe a bit of an exaggeration), I decided to make my way to the vending machine to purchase a Pop-Tart. I was setting myself up for the fact that it would be Strawberry because that's what always happens to me - the brown sugar one is one 75 cent purchase back but I can't bring myself to purchase two packs of Pop-Tarts so I have to settle for the front-of-the-vending-line strawberry. Well, to no surprise, "strawberry fields forever. . . ." no brown sugar in site. So, that morning, against better judgment, I took a stand against the vending machine hoaxes and decided not to purchase the tarts, not today. I was going to live dangerously and opted for trail mix instead. I was feeling pretty good about my decision as I made my way back to my desk. I cracked open my mix and took out an M&M and popped it in. Delish! Dually noting my satisfaction, I dumped a little of the trail mix into my hand, ready to partake. As I looked down to snag a raisin, I gasped in horror at what I saw. That's right folks, my trail mix must have come STRAIGHT off the trail because there was a big ol' hairball in my trail mix!
After nearly convulsing to death and swearing off vending machine trail mix forever, I composed myself enough to write a letter to the company to file a former complaint. That's right, I did! I was so disgusted and I let the company know that I had Gephardt on speed dial so they better return my email. Who finds a hairball in pre-packaged food???? Crimanetly (that's my new word lately, you like?)!!! So, I waited. . .
After about a week I got some canned crap email about "thank you for submitting your inquiry. . ." and just as I was getting fired up about getting a general response, I saw a personal note that went something like this: 'Carlee, Sorry about the hair in your trail mix. That's gross. Send it in and we'll look at it and see what happened. Oh, and we'll send you more trail mix. Love, The Trail Mix People".
WHAAAT!?! Not only was that pretty "whatevs" about the whole situation but MORE TRAIL MIX? I'm pretty sure the last compensation I want for puking up trail mix is more trail mix. PAAAllllleeeease!
I know you are probably thinking "Who would save hair-infested trail mix for a week to send back in?" That's right, I would! So, I packaged it up with a little note that said "Don't bother about the replacement. Probably won't eat it again. So gross. I'm telling everyone. Love, The Almost Hair Eater".
Time that it took to write the letters, package the stuff and mail it back in: 20 min. Cost of postage: $1.00. Cost of Trail Mix: 75 cents. Telling anyone who will read my blog about hair in vending machine trail mix: Priceless.
I just couldn't let it go! I know, shocker.

Boys II Men. . . Ba, Ba, Boys II Men!

2008-08-29T11:29:00.000-07:00

That's right folks. . . in case the title of this blog left anything to the imagination. . . I may have made a rousing trip to Orem last night to meet my childhood, aka Boys II Men (I know that you are just like me and can't read the name of the band without muttering "ABC, BVD" right after. Admit it, you're a fan). Should I be ashamed of this little concert gem? Some might say so. I say a resounding NO WAY! In fact, the very people that made fun of me for going to this very concert, without fail, spent the 5 minutes post-harassment singing at LEAST three Boys II Men songs. Note to self: If you are going to make fun of me for my musical tastes, don't follow it up with quoting and/or singing the songs yourself because you know what that means??? That's what I thought. . . :)

I've added a little pic for you to see that the B2M (I need to abbreviate or my fingers might cramp up) haven't changed much. . . in fact, not at all. . . with one obvious difference: there is one boy/man/boy in the process of becoming a man, that is missing. Sad, eh? I think I heard scoliosis? He can't perform. I thought at first that they should just have him sit on a stool but the Temptations-like moves that I saw last night made me understand the performance debacle. So, 3 it is!

The concert was at the Scera Shell Amphitheater in Orem. That's right, Orem. So you can imagine the long-shorts, clean R&B music kind of fan base that they were able to draw. We were far enough back in the amphitheater that we were nearly on the downward sloping side of the hill that creates said amphitheater. And when I say nearly, I mean we were on the downward sloping side. Sidenote: I think it should be a commandment or something that airlines and concert venues shall not over-book seats. I get really angry that the amphitheater sold too many seats so that at least 100 people could barely even see the stage, if they could at all. Grass behind the side of the stage = not a seat. Grass on the back of a hill = not a seat. Room on a later flight = not a SEAT! Come on people, work with me.

Anyway, the concert was packed and "good times were had by all." B2M not only busted out some of my favorite older stuff but some classic Motown tunes. It was like I was literally back in the days of the hard-core, talented boy bands. They danced with their mics, handed out roses and basically did some sweet electric slide moves across the stage. I couldn't help but scream like a 4th grader at a Hannah Montana concert. . . not that I really know what that sounds like!

Best part of the night (other than the double take of Motownphilly)? My buddy Jordan got invited to the meet-and-greet (which, subsequently was held in someone's backyard? Not surprising seeing as how they got ready in a cheaply fashioned lean-to at the venue) and was able to score me two, not one but two, autographed photos of the band. That's right, they signed my pics. Maybe if you're nice and stop making fun of me for going to the concert, I'll let you see them!

How long has it been?

2008-08-20T18:28:00.000-07:00

Ummm. . . probably 4 months or something completely insane like that. I was actually telling someone today how fun it was to blog and then I looked down and saw "Captain Hypocrite" on my shirt with a subtitle that said "it's been longer than you think". What in the heck was I thinking? Needless to say, I need to get back into the game so here we go.

Why not start with a little poetic ode?

Summer, oh summer. Where did you go?
Oy yeah, I was working, and boy did THAT blow.
It wasn't all bad news, I did have some fun. . .
I swam some and chilled some and burned in the sun.
I went to Seattle and saw my good buds.
They told me to blog more and called me a dud.
So this poem's for you, girls. I hope that you love it. . .
Lame poems have replaced every last ounce of my whit!

Seriously, good times in Seattle. I rode The Duck. That's right Seattle locals! I did it, and admit it. Cool city, highly recommended. I also did some concerts this summer (Martina, John Mayer, etc.), some river rafting in Jackson and stayed in a "cabin". Sidenote: I say it's a "cabin" because it's really more like a giant house that happens to be made out of logs that probably could really be on Cribs, as stated by a gent in my ward when he walked in. Really, the summer has been fab and I have no complaints really. . . other than I'm exhausted!

Anyway, here and now, making a semi-public declaration that I'm going to try harder. I enjoy this too much. I'm coming back. . . with a vengeance. . . ok, I hope!!

That's why God made Mexico. . .

2008-04-01T14:09:00.001-07:00

Thanks to Tim McGraw for the blog title and for the inspiration (sort of) to write this blog. Ok, ok, so it's been months since I've entertained myself by doing what i love - aka, writing in this blog-o-sphere of mine.I feel like I can legitimately say that I've been super busy. I used to take my lunch at work and pound out a blog or two each week and over the last few months, that hasn't even been a possibility so my apologies to my reader - aka, my mom, for not keeping up. Haha. Ok, I really have been hounded by a couple people to get going on this and I've finally found the time; who knew I would have to leave the country in order to find it??!!??
The sad thing about not keeping up is that it's been a fun few months in the life of Carlee and not record to prove it. (If you can please take my lack of blogging as a sign that I'm enjoying my life, I'd really appreciate it!) Things have been good for me; work's busy, social life is good, I got a new niece a couple of weeks ago and I'm loosing my best work friend to Seattle, all of which are very blog-worthy topics and I have failed to write my feeling on said topics which makes me sad. Now comes the inspirational music and my fist of conviction raised high in the air with a goal to do better.
Right now I'm sitting on the patio/porch/lanai of our room at the Moon Palace in Cancun. I'm here with my parents for the yearly Hamblin family vaca. It's been such a stellar few days (other than the radical sunburn I mysteriously got only on the right side of my neck?) that I'm thinking of opening a taco cart and moving here. Oddly enough, I'm pretty sure there are more actual 'taco' carts in downtown Ogden than there are in all of Cancun. I haven't seen that many so I think I could make a thriving business here. Heck, even the Costco here sells pizza and hot dogs! A good slogan is really all I need. . . like 'It's actual meat, I swear' or 'We don't use our water' or something catchy like that. All of the Americans will love it and I'll be rich!! Mwahahaha. (that was my weak attempt at typing an evil laugh, you know, like Dr. Evil?)
Really, I say I could move simply because not having to work has been bliss. I didn't realize how taxing it had been lately and frankly, wore me out. Props to my team who are back crunching through month-end while I sit here but I promise, we're all better for it. So, if I had to get a job here (which I would because from what I can tell, there are no wealthy men living here so I couldn't find a sugar daddy to live off of), I may die because I don't know if you know this but Cancun is 5 million degrees. I know what you're thinking: 'Carlee. It can't be. it would be as hot as the sun.' Well surprise to you all, it is. We went to Tulum yesterday and I literally think if I would have caught all of the sweat that came off, we would have been measuring in gallons. I know, gross visual, but it's true. There is a reason that us fair-skinned folks live to the north. You know when people get SO sunburned that they start to look purple? Well I've seen some of those since we've been here and it isn't pretty.
Anyway, back to getting a job in Mexico. The only way I could run a taco cart would be if I didn't have to stand over a hot stove and it was an air conditioned cart. . . like maybe more like a Winnebago? And I could keep it running all day because down here, gas is $2.00 per gallon. That's right folks. How come we can figure out air conditioning and they figure out oil? Air is important but I think it's time to admit oil defeat and ask for some help from our neighbors to the south! They don't hate us, right? We could strike a deal. Like we'll air condition your country if you'll sell us cheap oil. Look at that, problems solved. Man, I should be president. And if I were, I wouldn't need a job in Mexico.

Who I am. . .

2007-12-27T07:59:00.000-08:00

Hey folks! It's maybe been a little longer since my last blog than it should have been - heaven knows I've had plenty o' time over the holiday to write down some thoughts and/or inspirations that have struck me since my last rant about Christmas music. . . but I just haven't. The holiday has been relatively quiet and there hasn't been a whole ton to write about so I've kept my peace - except that I CAN now tell you that I got a new waffle maker for Christmas and that makes me pretty excited!!!

Even though the holiday has been relatively calm, these last couple months have been doosies for me. Since October, I've been through the gauntlet and, at times, have been left feeling like the gauntlet did in fact, win. It's been a total experiment in faith for me and trials of (what I consider to be) epoch proportions. . . ok, nothing THAT dramatic. But it's been a tough go at it for me - big decisions, large changes, all the goodies. I think I can safely say that I've come out the other end of this mess smelling a little more like roses than I went into it - one can only hope anyway or what's the point!?!

Anyway - on to the point. The one thing that really made a difference over the last couple of months for me was taking the time to figure out who I am and what it is that I really, really want in life. Yes, a sports car would be nice but it's not (as I figured out) necessarily at the top of my list. I think that the only true way to make the most correct decisions for yourself is to know what it is that makes you tick. So that's what I've done.

In similar fashion to so many bloggers before me, I've made a random list of some random things about me - things that are really important and some things that well, may not seem to be to the untrained eye (how silly is that) but do show a little bit about who I am. Hold on to your seats - it's going to be a bumpy and potentially awkward ride!

I live in a ridiculously small house. It's drafty. It's old. But it's mine and I love it. It's one of the biggest things I've ever done and I'm proud that I bought it.
I love to write and hope that one day, I have enough to say about something that I can publish a book.
I don't like the winter and the thought of scraping ice off my windows makes me sad.
My parents are proud of everything that I do and that helps me make good decisions.
I don't like hot cinnamon. At all. It makes my mouth burn and why would someone do that to themselves?
I sing and dance (limited, of course) in my car. If a song is THAT good, I just can't help myself.
I hate driving home from work.
I know that prayer works. I love when I can have less faith in that because I KNOW that it's real.
I love my family more than anything and they make that pretty easy to do.
My favorite color is red.
I like to work. I may complain about it (a lot) but it makes me feel fulfilled.
I am a total hugger. It's genetic (thanks mom) so I can't help it. I hug everyone - a lot. And, just so you are aware, there is such a thing as a bad hugger.
I have the funniest friends on the planet, no contest. They would out-whit anyone. We can have a contest.
In reference to the point above, I'm mildly competitive. . . haha. But nobody makes me more competitive than my brother which is weird because nobody supports my victories more than him either!
I am a total daddy's girl. He'll do anything for me but I try not to abuse that fact. . . too often.
I don't do fantasy very well. . . . maybe because I think reality is exciting enough??
I'm a sucker for flowers. I hate that I'm a sucker for anything. But I am a sucker for that.
I was THAT kid in high school - the one who did the group projects and the extra credit. Again, the competitive drive rears its ugly head! Most of that continued over into college.
I grew up playing sports - soccer, basketball, softball, karate. I grew up changing uniforms in the back of the car. I'd like to think that I'm ok at all of them, but a superstar at none. My love for sports continues into the now!
I love to laugh more than anything on the planet. It makes me feel so great.
I have loved a lot of people in my life but I don't think I've even been "in love" per se.
I play the piano - poorly - and I wish that I was better at it.
My mom loves me more than anyone. She always says that and after all of these years, I think she's right.
I like my hair and I hope I never loose it!
I'm stronger than I think and I really believe that most people are.
The biggest misconception of me is that I'm intimidating and completely independent. While I am pretty independent in some ways, I love being taken care of. It feels great.
I'm a total worrier. I worry about a lot of unnecessary things. Again, I think it's genetic? haha.
I am a Broadway junkie. I love musicals most.
I have been a radio DJ and done play-by-play sports broadcasting on the air. I loved it.
I like to read - mostly church books which may be nerdy but I don't really care. It's what I do.
I have a great life - one that most people would classify as "easy". While they are probably right, I've worked hard to make it that way.
I believe that people make their own "luck".
I've had to fire someone before and it was one of the hardest things I've done.
I don't believe in quitting at anything. . . except smoking and everyone should do that!!! :)
There are people in life that can understand you 100% of the time. I've met only a couple.

Ok, I think that ought to do it for now. 35 is a pretty good list, right? A lot of this list contains pretty random things about me but they all play a part in who I am and what I do. Just because I wrote this down does not give permission for me to be mocked relentlessly!!!

'Tis the Season. . . to be a HYPOCRITE!

2007-11-30T12:16:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone and welcome to the holiday season. . . one to surely be filled with glad tidings of great joy! I love the holiday season and everything that it stands for - the lights, the trees, the sweets, the people and even the music! FM 100 has been playing Christmas music for one month already - can you believe that? Anyway, hearing the Christmas tunes made me think of my year-over-year Christmas rant that gets me into trouble at least once during the holiday season. So what do I decide to do but publish it so I can take the tongue lashings in public! Really, it's so everyone knows how I feel about this gem of a topic. . . so here it goes:

You know what bugs me? Hypocrites. I would rather deal with my cube neighbor not showering (that isn't true, by the way. . . I'm just saying I'd rather, so you get the point) than dealing with a hypocrite. I HATE the saying "Do as I say, not as I do." which I heard all of the time growing up. I'm for sure more of a "Practice what you preach." type of girl because I like to think that's how I am. . . I try to be anyway.

It's sad that the one time of year that hypocrisy drives me up the wall is Christmas because really, I'd just like to enjoy my holiday in peace; and maybe I can start doing that once this is out in the open and recorded as a 'things I hate'. This blatant type of hypocrisy involves nothing other than good old Christmas music itself. Here comes the thesis of this rant: I do not agree with non-Christians making a pretty penny on a Christmas album. They don't believe what they are singing. They don't even believe in Christmas. Don't become a sell-out by doing a version of Silent Night and selling it to the masses. It's lame, it's hypocritical and it sucks. There was no 'holy night' that you are aware of. There was no 'holy infant' for you to ponder on. Don't sing about it. Don't record it. I don't even think you should be singing about Santa Claus because the whole premise of Christmas coming to pass is based on Jesus Christ and his holy birth. I don't sing about Kwanzaa! Why? No it's not because a) I don't sing OR b) I don't even know what Kwanzaa is. . . so you put those thoughts to bed right now! I don't sing about it because I don't believe in it. It's the same reason I don't write/sing sings about Hanukkah, soggy bread, sex before marriage, cinnamon or Miracle Whip - I just don't believe in them.

The two biggest violators of this little rule of mine could be considered two of the most talented musical artists of all time - to that, I don't scoff. I do, however, scoff at the fact that you ditched your religious beliefs in order to make a buck. Neil Diamond and Barbara Streisand, come on down. You're the next contestants on Carlee's List-o-Hypocrites! (I purposely did not link to their cds because I'm anti buying them).

Both of these artist have publicly proclaimed their undying faith in Judaism and for that, they have my respect. I love when people believe in something - even if it's not a belief that I share, I respect those that are willing to publicly make a statement about their faith and really, live it to it's fullest. I do not respect the fact that because popular culture allows for the holiday season to be rich is cash flow if you are willing to make a Christmas cd (and I know that EVERYONE has one - the muppets might even have one, who knows), you sold out. Both Neil and Babs sing Silent Night on their cds (although Babs tried to be sly and name it Sleep in Heavenly Peace). Did I miss something? Do I not really know what that song is about? I thought it was about the story in the bible - you know, the one with a baby and shepherds and a manger and a star. . . all of that stuff. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Babs also favors us with O Little Town of Bethlehem and then heavily favors us with songs about Santa and snow. Neil, however, didn't stop at Silent Night. He was kind of enough to favor the masses with God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Little Drummer Boy, Hark the Herald Angels Sing and last, but certainly not least, O Holy Night. For me, that last one is a kicker because, personally, it represents all that is Christian about this holiday. . . but let's be real, Silent Night did me in.

My point is not that these people are wrong because they aren't Christians. It has nothing to do with that and if that's what you are getting from this, you didn't read it. My point is that regardless of your beliefs, you should never abandon them for cash - ever. Even if you stand to make a lot of money. . . like say if you were going to release a Christmas album. If you do sell-out, that's what you are - a sell-out. . . and you will then be on my list.

Another afternoon conversation gone bad. . .

2007-11-13T16:14:00.001-08:00

After seeing my last post, GW decided to go the rounds again in IM. Prepare yourself. . .

GW: CARLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Me: What's up?
GW: Did you by chance see the ram-bone
GW: can't believe I actually axed you that
GW: That made me run out of the BB when I visited for a bachelor party
GW: gift
Me: oh my gosh
Me: I don't even know what to say to you right now
Me: this is a WHOLE new level
GW: Sorry but I still have nightmares
GW: the real reason I am IMing you is to find out about GB
Me: sure. . . GB. . . not the BB?
Me: that place was so sick
Me: GB was a-freaking-mazing
Me: ram-bone?
Me: now THIS may have to be blogged. . .
Me: I can't stop laughing
GW: I can't describe what it was
GW: but I will never go back because of that
Me: hahaha
Me): this is for sure going on the blog - so you better stop telling people that you are the ghost writer!
GW: so I shouldn't tell you about piggly wiggly either then
GW: any who
Me: oh man
GW: back to GB
GW: I wanted to go because I secretly have a man crush on him.

Not a secret anymore!! SO funny. Thanks GW for making my night.

I question your motives!

2007-11-13T12:33:00.000-08:00

Today I had an interesting lunch. . . to say the least. I've been invited to a bridal shower this Friday and received instruction not to bring a "nice" gift, if you catch my drift. (And if you don't catch my drift, start singing "Santa Clause is coming to town" to realize what the polar opposite of nice is. . . and THEN catch my drift). Anyway, it's for one of my best buds' fiance's so I'm more than willing to succumb to the request. She's now a good friend, so I have no hesitation about getting a gift that I would never want my mother to know that I bought - until it comes to actually buying the present. . .
I decided to visit one of Utah's shadiest locals ("lo-cal") to obtain my piece-de-resistance for the blushing bride. I say it's one of the shadiest because not only does it sell questionable merchandise, but it's in West Valley and you don't get much shadier than that. Blue Boutique on 35th south, here I come!
I strutted in with all the confidence that I could muster, not wanting to look like the naive mormon nun that I SO am, thinking that a little confidence in my step would make it less awkward. And it did - for about 3 seconds. I HAD NO IDEA!!!! That's all I really have to say about that. In addition, I wasn't even in the "Adult" section? What is this, the kids section? If so, what kind of junior high delinquents are shopping here?
Anyway, I quickly made my way to the area that I was looking for (not that I really even knew what I was looking for, but it was in the back of the store and I felt comfortable with that). BUT, in order to get to the "G" rated section (which still made me blush), I had to pass said "Adult" section with the dirty velvet curtain over the entrance. Unfortunately for the guy inside that section, the curtain was not closed all the way and we made eye contact. You know that face that a little kid gets when he knows he's been caught stealing candy? Well, that was it. That old man looked mortified. . . like I just caught him buying dirty pron! Oh wait, I did. Then I noticed he had on one of those annoying phone earpieces that make it look like you are talking to yourself and I realized that he was on his lunch break just surfing for porn in the nudy store. Here's what I wanted to say:
"Dear Old Guy,
You are old and gross and frankly, should be banned from being within 100 yards of any elementary school. You have your ear piece in, just in case you get a call. Question: What if someone actually calls? Are you going to answer it and let them know where you are at? Just in case the wife calls (who I now have total pity for) and asks you to stop and get some bread on the way home from work? NO! This is embarrassing. You are caught. Sick."
Instead I just looked at him like I was caught stealing candy and scampered off to get my G-rated items.
I know it's a double standard but it's SO different to see women in those places or even young couples because you know it's probably because they just got married or it's for a shower gift or something. Seeing old, creepy men in the "Adult" section creeps me out. He was gross. And really, I don't feel guilty because I, after all, was only in the kids section. . .

Calling Baton Rouge!!!

2007-11-11T20:54:00.000-08:00

So, I figured I had better get writing or this was going to turn into the Ghost Writer's blog. . . permanently. Plus, I had a stellar weekend so of course, it's time to write about it!!

Some critics may read this blog and wonder what the big deal is, but I got to do one of the greatest things ever - in fact, something that I've hoped I'd get the chance to do before I died. What could it be? I saw Garth Brooks in concert. Not only did I get to see him in concert, but I had to fly all the way to Kansas City to do so and it was amazing!!! Sidenote: Garth just became the #1 selling artist of all time so mock all you want, you can't argue with that!

We spent the weekend chilling in Kansas City - having some b-b-que and just seeing the sites. Really, it was a time waster until the concert last night at the Sprint Center!! We hot all cowgirled up for the show including everything from buckles to that most authentic hat of mine. Shhh, don't tell anyone that I've actually owned that for years and did NOT buy it just for the occasion.

Anyway, we picked up our Garth SWAG and then hit the concert in style! We snagged ourselves some limited-edition hoodies. . . and by limited-edition, I mean pretty much everyone there bought one. So waht! It rocks.

It was the most amazing show. I think the funniest part was when a crazy, white-trash fan through a bra on the stage and it made Garthy forget the lyrics to one of my favorite songs. Anyway, check out some pics. Don't hate. . . ok, you can a little because it was unbelievable!!

GW - It's about time

2007-11-08T16:01:00.000-08:00

Timing is everything. Whether you are looking for a mate, a new job, or an extra breadstick at lunch, timing needs to be on your side.

Today I decided to take advantage of the fact that my life partner, ahem, I mean “lunch” partner decided to go hang out with someone cooler than me. (This is fine, because he doesn’t know that today I added my 5th, and most likely final friend to my facebook page). Anywho at lunchtime I made a mad dash for some sub par Italian food at the Fazoli’s and to get another stamp on my buy ten meals get a drink free card. (It’s a lofty goal but sometimes I need to stretch myself).

Once I arrived I ordered the rigatoni romano, found myself a seat, and waited for the buzzer to beckon that my 6,000 calorie meal was ready for me to ingest. Now I should back up a little. I don’t really like Fazoli’s but the fact is, if you dine in, there are all you can eat breadsticks. SOLD!!! I was willing to risk the possibility of being a loner to receive a couple of extra 1,000 calorie buttery breadsticks.

However, timing was not on my side. Not only did a couple of co workers see me in my state of loneness, but I never receive an extra breadstick. Apparently the mentally handicapped breadstick Nazi will pass you by if you still have the initial breadsticks you received with your meal. Therefore, I quickly snarfed the final stick down and anxiously awaited her next pass through the tables.

To my surprise, she did not make the rounds again. She did however pass by my table with the breadstick tongs as if she was mocking me. I have never felt more like Pavlov’s dog than I did at that moment. While Jimmy Buffets Jingle bells played overhead (Yes it is only Nov 7th ……. again timing) I couldn’t help but think that all I want for Christmas is another Damn breadstick. But no luck! Does she not know I can go to the Olive Garden and have soup and all you can eat breadsticks for less money than I spent here? Do I have to hide my breadstick next time to get another one? Sometimes life just isn’t fair.

I don’t know if this is the case of not, but somehow I believe that the little red ridinghood retarded breadstick Nazi is still walking around the lobby passing out free breadsticks for the rest of her shift. If only I had waited a little longer, or had better timing.

All my Best,

GW

GW: Hallo-what?

2007-11-01T08:54:00.000-07:00

Happy All Hallows' Eve everyone. Yeah it’s me again. Old GW couldn’t resist blogging about the stupidest holiday known to mankind. (Yeah that’s right I called myself GW. I figure if we are now so casual that we call erectile dysfunction ED, I should be able to start calling myself GW).

Let’s get down to business. Why does everyone make such a big deal out of today? I pretend to be something I am not every day when I go to work. The difference is I don’t have to wear a costume to do it. But some adults still feel obligated to dress up like a pumpkin, a character from the wizard of Oz, or Captain Jack Sparrow. There is only one captain Jack and I don’t want some 300 pound man swashbuckling his way around the office thinking he is a pirate.

I realize that my ideas shouldn’t be impressed upon everyone, and I am fine with kids trick or treating, but please be aware of the rules and regulations should you or your children decide to knock on my door tonight.

1. Trick or Treat was designed to be a question not a statement. There will be times throughout the night that I will opt not to provide a treat and will request that a trick be played on me.

2. Do not ring the door bell more than once. You will be lucky if I even come to the door. I fully realize that your children are trying to collect more free items than the Louisianans did from FEMA, but I am not going to sprint to the door to hand out candy that I bought with my hard earned money.

3. Do not bring by your babies to trick or treat at my house. The last time I checked I was fresh out of similac and breast milk. Plus a baby dressed up as a vegetable is not that funny……anymore.

4. Make an effort on your costume. Don’t just cut a couple of holes in a sheet and pretend you are a ghost. I am not scared by that, and you look more like a member of the KKK than you do a ghost. If you want free stuff from me, impress me. FYI…. the transformers were not made out of a cardboard box. If you try to sneak by with a homemade costume, you are going to get a money mailer coupon to have your carpets steam cleaned. Better yet, maybe a discount on teeth whitening coupon from Dr Boyden. (By the way Jimmy Chunga I don’t give a rat’s ass that he is your family dentist. Stop talking about him on the radio as if you are endorsing him for free. He is paying you to say how great he is.)

5. If you are over 12 don’t even think about knocking on my door. If you do, you will get a bouillon cube to make gravy. If you are old enough to be forced to use the communal shower in P.E. Class, you probably already realize that the world is cruel and not fair. Thus you shouldn’t be sad when you get something to contribute to Sunday dinner.

6. Don’t do the trick or treat smell my feet line. That’s disgusting. I don’t say “here’s a tootsie roll, now smell my hole”.

Anyway good luck out there tonight. Watch out for the razor blades in apples and drugs in the candy. (Like a crack addict would ever share with kids). I hope you remember the true reason for the season and take a moment to reflect on the fact that Rob Van Winkle (AKA Vanilla Ice) turns 39 today.

Now where did I put my mascara and eyeliner so I can put the finishing touches on my Capn Jack costume?

Gost Writer - Wheels of Contention

2007-10-30T16:32:00.000-07:00

First of all let me say how excited I am to be a ghost writer. Ever since I saw that show on PBS I have thought to myself, “Could there be a better job than helping kids solve mysteries by providing clues to riddles”? I think not; however I recently realized that one of the kids on the show turned out to be gay (not that there is anything wrong with that). But I can’t help but think that may have had a little something to do with his decision. (Well that and the fact that his name is Willie).

Anyhow, let’s get down to business. Last night I was doing a little shopping at the Target and was leaving the check out counter when a younger female ran into me. Let me be more specific, she skated into me. That’s right she had on (in my opinion) one of the worst inventions created by mankind………The Wheelie shoe.

After giving her the “oh no you didn’t” look, this young gal decided to walk/skate off as if nothing ever happened.

1) Is the next generation that lazy that they can’t walk to school, or to the produce section at Target? If you need wheels to get around in the grocery store, go borrow one of those scooters. Believe me they work fine, I have used them several times.
2) My Spawn will never own a pair of these shoes. Sure I owned a pair of roller skates growing up, but when I wanted to go wheeling around, I did it at the Freaking 49th Street Galleria with other prepubescent children, and creepy old men that still thought it was the 70’s, but had a fond attachment to the song footloose.
3) These things scare me. The first time I saw someone gliding across a floor at the mall, I thought that I had got some bad mushrooms from Pioneer Park. Human beings walk, run, or jog, we DO NOT glide.
4) These shoes discriminate against the elderly or people with a shoe size bigger than 7. If these shoes we sooooooooo cool, why don’t adults use them? The last time I checked, the Dali Lama, Pope Benedict, and Matt Lauer do not use them, so why should I?
5) Why hasn’t this fad passed? I was only able to wear my parachute pants and slap bracelets for about 5 minutes, while the little brats that run into me have had these damn things for close to five years.
6) If they are going to be permanently adopted by society, can we at least make people say “go go gadget shoes”?

Thanks for allowing me to vent. Don’t worry though; I will be fine with a little help from my friend Mr. Zoloff, some group counseling, and a few hours of ghost writer season 2 now available on dvd.

Ah, the pressure to be cool. . .

2007-10-29T13:46:00.000-07:00

This was by far the funniest conversation I've had in a long time. I have been asked to change the name of the other party involved just for protection purposes. Said party has recently agreed to make occasional "ghost writer" posts to the blog, for which I am very excited because their humor MUST be shared.

Sidenote: sections of the conversation not affecting the outcome of said conversation may have been omitted or condensed for room's sake and really, to add to the overall humor of this conversation.

GW: I am just trying to rebrand myself. I need to be a little more edgier.

Carlee: I don't know that the things we've talked about qualify as 'edgy'?

GW: I am also into Elmo.

Carlee: Wow

GW: I mean Emo
GW: My church class is teaching me how to be cool.

Carlee: 8 year olds?

GW: I teach the 15-16 year old class.
GW: Curtting is in.
GW: So is facebook.
GW: and myspace.
GW: But myspace is more for the molesters.

There was so much more to this but for the sake of time, I'll end it there, on that solid note. Thanks Ghost Writer for the commentary. Can't wait to see what develops from this!

Did I really just see that?

2007-10-18T14:43:00.000-07:00

Either someone has the worst functioning colon/stomach in addition to having quite possibly the worst aim ever (you think you know where this is going, but you don't) or someone was having their lunch in the bathroom. That's right folks, I just saw a full, one-inch piece of french fry on the bathroom floor about a foot in front of the toilet.

I don't know which is worse - no digestive breakdown accompanied with bad aim or someone "lovin' it" in the bathroom over a carton of fries?

All I have to say is gross. Bada bup ba ba. . .

That dreaded table. . .

2007-10-12T08:25:00.000-07:00

So, some time ago our company decided to "give a little something to the employees" and purchased a pool table, foosball table and a ping pong table. They were hoping that it would distract us from the hopeless monotony of our jobs - aka "We are getting the tables as a way for you to take a break and release stress." Like I said, hopeless monotony.

Anyway, the tables have become a little bit of an anger point for several of us. . . i.e. (loving the acronyms today) the ones of us that have been here working until after 6:30 more than once this week. Release stress, yes, good idea. Train for the Olympic ping pong team, not so good. There are people that are spending over an hour out there on a daily basis and it's starting to really tick me off. So much so that I may hide the paddles, sticks and ping pong balls that are necessary to play these games.

Case and point: I walked through the shop today at 9:30 (for all of you readers out there, that is 1 hour after we technically open our doors (like anyone is here at that time) but 2 1/2 hours after I arrived this morning, again, catching up on work) and I heard a familiar sound of a plastic ball making contact with a table, a paddle, a table, a paddle. . . I almost raged! You have been here for no more than an hour and you already need a break? Are you kidding me? It took me longer to drive to work this morning than you have been here and already need a ping pong break. If you're that dedicated, maybe you should quit your job and join a league? I've included a flier in case you are interested. SOOO over it!

For My Mom!

2007-10-03T08:07:00.001-07:00

She probably doesn't even read this trash that I write but I thought I would post this anyway - a tribute to mom's everywhere, but especially mine. I don't know why I found this so amusing, but I did!

It finally happened. . .

2007-10-01T14:23:00.000-07:00

What kind of world would take two kids away from their underwear-missing, head-shaving, alcohol-drinking, millionaire mom and give them to their corn-row-wearing, white-boy-rapping, gold-chain-sporting, dead-beat dad? THIS kind of world!!!

http://omg.yahoo.com/spears-ordered-to-give-kids-to-federline/news/2792

Sorry Britt. . . you lost. And bad. You lost to K-Fed which really, says absolutely nothing for you. You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting in comparison to the sickest person alive! Ok, the second sickest.

Who would have thought?

Knee-jerk makes you a plain jerk.

2007-09-27T08:36:00.000-07:00

There is an interesting phenomenon (or shall I say disease) floating around the office lately and it's called the knee-jerk reaction. Something happens that management thinks is catastrophic and could end our very existence (can you hear the circa 1950's horror movie music because I can), when in reality, it isn't something that a good scouring of Monster.com couldn't solve, and they react. . . immediately. Without fail, this produces a crappy decision and therefore crappy outcome that will inevitably piss everyone off.
Good work. Way to make out working environment even less appealing by adding another bad decision to the roster. Word of advice? Maybe let the dust settle after these little events before decisions are made? Just a thought. But what do I know. . .

Keith. . . Be Still My Heart or Counterfeit Country?

2007-09-12T15:16:00.000-07:00

I've developed the new, rather expensive hobby lately of going to concerts. In fact, I've made it a goal to one day be able to say 'I saw them in concert once!' to whichever music star's name makes it's way into everyday conversation. My friend Natalie has given me something to reach for - she's seen everyone. . . and I'm not kidding. You name it, she's purchased a ticket. Her repertoire includes the last two concerts I've been to; she attended both Justin Timberlake (shameless plug: best show in the history of the world. I'm sorry, but I can't get over it. He puts all other concerts to shame - even ones that I L-O-V-E-D before. JT wins. Hands down. But rather than blog about my undying love, I'll let you read/view Steph's thoughts as mine are a giant ditto!) as well as last night's soiree with none other than Keith Urban.

Brother Urban (haha) made his way to the Energy Solutions Arena for a rousing, Aussie-filled night of music and jamming on his guitar. The lights, the sound, the GIANT digital screen behind him made my night. Those teeth, that hair. . .Plus, he wasn't looking too shabby in his much-too-tight black t-shirt and jeans. No complaints.

My dad always jokes with me about loving 'goat-roping' music. . . which I must say, I do. I'll jam to Garth or Tim at any point in the day, I'm not afraid. But this very statement (plus some prodding from a certain cowboy I was with) actually made me question the validity of Keith's "countryness" throughout the night. Music on country radio, check. Banjo present in songs, check. House in Nashville, check. Tight jeans, check. But then I started seeing the issues. . .

Long, straight, luscious locks that HAVE to be flat-ironed, not country. Rocker t-shirt, not country. Sweat band on his wrists, not country. Tribal tattoos, not country. Slammin' guitar riffs that extend a song by about five minutes, not country. What was happening.

Now I'm at a loss. . . is Keith Urban truly the country hottie that I've always admire or is he simply a country impostor dressed as a hot man? Here's a couple of clips from the tour - you decide for yourself. I'm torn. One shows rocker Keith and the other, a more subdued, country side. Still adore him so don't think by any means that this will change any time soon, but I just don't know how to categorize this Aussie Hottie anymore?? Country Cowboy or Bon Jovi poser?

(fyi, these aren't my videos but you get the point)

And FYI. . .

2007-08-31T12:24:00.000-07:00

Oprah trumps everybody on this game and Jada Pinkett Smith trumps nobody. They are the Ace and the three of Celebrity face-off (I say three because sometimes deuces are wild!!).

Celebrity Face-Off

2007-08-31T12:05:00.000-07:00

A while ago, Natalie blogged about the most addicting game ever (btw Nat, you are correct!) that pins celebrity against celebrity to see who is the most "celebrityish" - that's right, it's a coined phrase. Ok, it asks who is most famous.
I may officially have a beef with this game. . . even though I was pleased with the outcome because I am in L-O-V-E with the winner, I still am not sure of the accuracy. . .

Contestants, to your stations.

On the left we have the Footlooser himself, Kevin Bacon. No commentary needed.

On the right, we have the man, the myth, the legend of all things pop and hot dancing, Justin Timberlake (who, may I add, I will be seeing in concert in 30 short hours).

I know that even MY intro for Justin was better (mainly because I love him), but he won the battle!?! Ever heard of a little game called Seven Degrees of Justin Timberlake? Me neither. Sorry son but I say to the back of the bus on that match-up. Nobody beats Bacon in terms of who's more famous. . . nobody.

Life's little jokes

2007-08-23T10:37:00.000-07:00

Ever notice that you can look put together 80% of the time and never see anyone that you know but haven't seen in a while. . . but the second you are working from home and have to run to the mall really quick so you slip on some gym shorts and a grungy 'Spartan Spirit' t-shirt and don't comb your hair, you see everyone that you haven't seen in over a year and make a killer, mildly musty impression on them? They now think you are jobless and homeless. . .Funny life, funny. Good joke.

Dress Code, Part 2

2007-08-17T09:35:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder why it is that when you look up 'cornrows' on Google images that you only see pictures of black people or white people on vacation in predominantly black countries? Do you think that it may be because white folks shouldn't wear them on a regular basis? That's my guess.

Just like K-Fed you've been caught. Corn rows in the workplace. . . hmm, interesting concept. You aren't hiding from anyone and if you wanted to, cornrows were not the way to go. Nothing will draw attention to your head like your pearly white scalp shining through those unnatural braids, my friend. Pair that up with shoulder pads in your flower jumper, and this is a loosing battle.

It's a sad day for fashion.

Guilty Pleasures

2007-08-16T08:02:00.001-07:00

The other day I was scouring through my morning newspaper. . . ok, for me that means the 3-tabbed window brought to me by MSN and of course, the headlines so nicely sorted out on the Yahoo! homepage (really, that's all you need. Oh, and my morning dose of none other than the Today Show). . . and I found an interesting article on Guilty Pleasures. It went through and identified somethings that adults do that maybe they wouldn't want the mass public knowing about. Oddly enough, the number one guilty pleasure was watching American Idol??? How funny is that? Of all things. I guess I can see why watching a show that makes teenage girls cry and scream in shear excitement might embarrass a full-fledged adult, but come on. Where's the dirt? Where are the scandal-clad affairs, the stealing office pens, the eating after 8:00 at night? American Idol was number one?

Anyway, as most things do, it got me thinking about what my list would consist of and the fact that I should maybe blog about it. Before we get started, I'm going to need you to realize that this is NOT an easy task. I'm airing out my dirty laundry for the whole world to see, you understand? I'm about to list off the things that I do that might get me shunned - except for the fact that I am betting that you have at least one of these on your list as well. BUT, in my efforts to live on purpose, I'm doing it. . . a sort of cleansing ritual, I might say. So here we go. . .

I've decided to categorize these so that my later humiliation can be quickly referenced based on category. I am also putting a disclaimer out there that there WILL be blogs to follow on some of these items because once they are out there, there is no going back. This especially applies to the 'television' category. I know you are thinking to yourself 'What? She could humiliate herself more so than admitting to watching Hey Paula?' Oh man, you have no idea.

Disclaimers, done. Pride, gone. Fingers, ready. Let's get started.

Movies (bringing out the big guns right from the start)
I own three of the most humiliating movies of all time, bought for nostalgia sake but. . . nope, no excuses. I own them. And here they are in no particular humiliating order:

Masters of the Universe (He-Man for those of you who don't know - at least look at the list of stars, ok?)
Howard the Duck and last, but certainly not least,
Ernest Goes to Camp

Music
I have been known to jam out in my car to good tunes. . . and bad ones for that matter. Here are some songs that I car dance to that frankly, I shouldn't even admit to listening to:

Ice, Ice Baby by the one and only Vanilla
I'm Too Sexy by Right Said Fred
Proud to be an American by Lee Greenwood
Thriller by Michael
Copacabana by Barry Manilow
Rappers Delight by every rapper that was alive in the late 80's

Food
Do I like to pretend like I'm healthy sometimes? Sure. But these are some of the best, worst-thing-for-me creations known to man. I'd never eat them on a date (if I ever had one), which I think makes them a guilty pleasure.

Royal Red Robin Burger - if you thought it had bacon AND a fried egg on it, you'd be right. Don't mock it.
Breakfast burrito from the gas station down the street from my house. DON'T mock it.
McDonald's. . . enough said. No, I haven't seen 'Fast Food Nation' nor do I intend to.
Ben & Jerry's 'Everything but the. . .' ice cream

Clothing
I could wear gym clothes 24 hours a day which is why you should all thank the Lord that I have a job that doesn't allow that.

I also sometimes like to wear my old soccer socks in the morning while I get ready. Sometimes my feet are cold. They are hot pink.

Reading
Self-help books are my passion. Love them. Everything from money and business to religion. Religious ones are my favorites and just so you know, they have been for a long time - not just because I'm writing this.

The best reading on an airplane in my dark corner is People - bar none.

I have a subscription to Glamour and sometimes, I like reading the trashy articles. You know - the ones that you would flip the page on really fast if someone was looking. I read them. . . and I flip the page fast if someone is looking!

Television
Ahh, the queen of all guilty pleasures. I am telling you that you will see blogs about some of this stuff now that it's out in the open.

Watching 'My Super Sweet Sixteen' and wishing that my dad was a music mogul so that I could have had a party like that. On top of that, secretly wondering if it would be weird to have a 'Super Sweet 26'??

I watch Dog The Bounty Hunter on A&E. More to come on this little gem. I'm not even going to hyperlink it because he's getting his own blog.

Yelling at the television during 'Big Brother' and secretly wondering how I could get someone voted off.

'The Hills'. . . enough said!

Watching 'Bridezillas' and hoping that one day I can be that intense because that means I'm getting married! Ok, I just want to be that intense about anything. It could be fun.

Telling someone that 'I was flipping through the channels. . .' and saw something. It's a lie. I was full on watching whatever I saw. No flipping - watching. But I'm too embarrassed to tell you. . . until now.

'Dateline: To Catch a Predator'. I can't get enough. They should do it every week. I have a sick, unhealthy fascination with watching these dipnards cry. I love it so much because I hate them so much. I wonder if Perverted Justice is hiring??

Well, I think that's enough confessing for the. . . year. Feels good. . . until I loose some friends.

Another weird one

2007-08-14T08:23:00.000-07:00

I know that I haven't written a solid, thought provoking blog in some time now and I promise to do that soon but I am having far too much fun posting the good, the bad and the weird little tid bits that I find on the internet. What can I say? I can't help myself.
This one comes courtesy of my cube neighbor Mark who frequently sends me random stuff like a map of all of the countries who have not accepted the metric system (there are 3 I think, the US being the largest), a story about a man attaching balloons to his lawn chair and making it like 100 miles and finally, the piece de resistance (feel the french accent). . . the Chuck Norris ad found a few blogs down. Anyway, today's newsworthy piece is no exception to the rule. I give you the coolest invention of the week. . .

http://www.ohgizmo.com/2007/08/07/brush-rinse-toothbrush-brilliantly-simple/

Oh geez. . .

2007-08-08T08:33:00.000-07:00

This could spark a whole conversation about doing things to your kid that you KNOW are going to be painful but I'll let the article speak for itself. If you don't hear the words 'stupid parents' when you read this, you clearly aren't listening. . .

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20070808/od_uk_nm/oukoe_uk_newzealand_name

Dress Code, Part 1

2007-07-31T07:55:00.001-07:00

With the exception of a minor few that have an acute shoulder deformity, what purpose to shoulder pads really serve? What kind of illusion are you trying to pull off? You want us to believe that you are more proper because your clothing contains these falsifiers? Now way. . . I'm on to you sister and you're not fooling anyone!

News Article of the Week

2007-07-18T10:36:00.001-07:00

Tell me that this opening line doesn't completely intrigue you:

"LARAMIE, Wyo. — An anonymous tipster on horseback led authorities to the remote hideout of a former military sniper accused of fatally shooting his wife while she sang in a band. . ."

What the random? Here's the link, just in case you are interested:

http://deseretnews.com/dn/view/0,1249,695193014,00.html

How cool is this?

2007-07-13T15:20:00.001-07:00

Enough said. . .

When tucking. . .

2007-07-12T12:37:00.000-07:00

When tucking a shirt in (not that it happens all that often unless necessary), do you tuck into the pants or all the way down into the underwear? Now I'm pretty sure I know the socially correct answer to this (nobody is going to admit to the underwear), but I want to know the real, honest truth because I just saw something that would lead me to believe that this underwear tucking may happen on a regular basis. And if you DO admit to the underwear tucking, is it the added security of the elastic band that entices you so? Does it stay tucked better that way or something because I can't get over the 'sick' factor.

Thanks. . . but no thanks.

2007-07-12T11:46:00.000-07:00

I discovered a phenomenon in the social networking world that I need a little help solving. It's what I can only deem as the 'Thanks, but no thanks rule'. (Copyright may be pending on this so proceed with caution.) Here's the shake down:

Say you are on a professional networking site where people can look up your resume and job history and all of that good stuff. In addition to these already obvious benefits (wink, wink), they can also 'link-up' and say that they know you just by being a member of the site. Well, maybe I'm the only one with this issue but just because I know you doesn't necessarily mean I want everyone to know that I know you. . . especially in the business sense. Is this making sense? Could I use the word 'sense' just one more time?

So here's the dilemma: I get an email request from a person that I work with that is inviting me to connect with them through this professional networking site and I don't want to. Here's my thought: "I know your work ethic and I know that it's not good and just in case other people know that about you as well, I don't want them to know that I am tied to you which may give off the impression that 'Yes, I am proud to have worked with ______.'" I'm just not ready to commit to this.

So, the question comes - what do I do now? They had to purposely invite me to connect so they know that they did it and that their email is just sitting in my inbox begging "Read me. . . open me. . . accept me". (Can you hear the little 'inbox voice' I'm trying to convey?) If I don't connect, they'll know that I really have no interest and it may offend them. Do I send a response saying "As soon as you're smart, I'll consider it"? Do I pretend like I never got it? The ideal situation would be if they sent this heathen request to a long list of people and they won't remember me. . . but odds of that are not good. Knowing my luck, there are two people on their list - me and their mom, and mom was really quick to accept.

WHAT NOW?

Excellent Question. . .

2007-07-06T13:05:00.001-07:00

So in my previous post, I linked up to one of my new favorite shows - Kathy Griffin. . . so I, myself followed the link and started reading her blog (empirical proof that everyone has a blog!) and she had a really fun Q&A on there that I thought I would still and answer myself. . . just to give you all a little insight into the 'World O' Carlee'. . . so here we go:

What's in your iPod?
A little of everything, and I'm not kidding. Country to Broadway baby, it's all there. Let's be honest, we should be proud that I can even answer this question since I've only had an iPod for a week (thanks again for the encouragement Steph!)

What do you TIVO?
The Office, Grey's Anatomy, Rob and Big and cheesy 80s movies to watch just once

What are your best dating tips?
I wish I had some. . . whatever I'm doing must not be working for me! That's it! My best dating tip is to not act like me!

What animals do you have?
None. . . I want a dog really badly though.

What do you read on airplanes?
I like looking at magazines or reading autobiographies/motivational books. Let's be honest, I like watching movies on a plane! Reading on a plane makes me sleepy. . .

Who's your favorite fashion designer. . . . changes to be applicable to poor folk. . . what's your favorite article of clothing?
Either my Bermuda shorts or my plaid ones. It's so hot. . . the temperature, not in a Paris Hilton sense.

Who makes your favorite pair of jeans?
Dickies

Who are your icons?
Geez. . . I don't know about this. Kathy Griffin?

What's your favorite restaurant?
Maybe. . . Patricia's Mexican food. So good.

What's your favorite comfort food?
Ice cream, no question.

Feel free to answer one of these. . . or all of them if you're bored like me. . .

Hey. . . Paula?

2007-07-06T12:40:00.000-07:00

Ok, so last weekend I experience a slight moment of shame. I was flipping through the channels and just as one of my favorite Bravo shows was ending - Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List (shameless plug: could be one of the funniest shows on television right now. She has a pretty foul mouth but don't worry, it's bleeped. So really, it's Kathy and her assistants and her dogs and her family and a lot, lot, lot of bleeping. But, it makes me laugh pretty hard.), a new "hit" reality show was coming on. . . drum roll please. . . . . Hey Paula. If you haven't heard about it, it's a reality show where cameras follow the diva herself around and document the life and times of Paula Abdul. Straight up, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Sidenote: only Bravo could actually air this show. it could be the most random television network ever. Their ad on Google says "comedy, celebrity, fashion, poker, fitness, real estate and cook TV shows". . . uh, mildly weird combo? Anyway, back to Paula. . . .

You know how you pass by a train wreck (or any kind of wreck really because how often do you see an actual train wreck?) and you know that the moral and decent think to do would be to look away out of the respect for the horror that lies in front of you? But instead, you can't help but gawk, mouth wide open, and stare at the misery that lay hopelessly right in front of your face. That's Hey Paula. I should have turned the channel, I know that now. But that fateful Saturday afternoon filled with mind-numbing boredom caused me to gawk, mouth wide open and watch this show. It's been a long time since I've been able to describe any television as "a complete disaster", but this takes it, no question.

May I present to you a little clip of this tragedy in motion. . . This is a business meeting between Paula and one of the world's top perfume companies that has decided to help her come up with her own line. I would like to present this as actual evidence that Paula may spend her days drunk as a skunk. She says in the next episode that she's never been drunk. . . I ask the jury to reconsider.

Hey Paula! What were you thinking?

Welcome to 2007. . .

2007-07-03T15:24:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Steph, this is my week-long motto. I encourage you all to look around and see some of the things that might make you question what year you're in (clothing styles, electronics, hairstyles are all good starting points) and then simply say to yourself 'Welcome to 2007'. It's a pretty fun game and it gets addicting. Here's my list for this week, to start:

I bought an iPod. . . the day the iPhone came out. Accident? Nope. Ironic? Yes. Welcome to 2007.

Birkernstocks + socks does not a cool outfit make. Welcome to 2007.

Birkenstocks + socks + Spandex leggings with stirrups do not a cool outfit make. Welcome to 2007. (in case you are wondering, the previous two lines are two separate violations on two separate people in one single day- I wasn't just making the situation worse.)

Watching several episodes of Saved by the Bell and realizing that maybe Kelly Kapowski isn't quite as cool as you originally thought, is a life-altering moment. Welcome to 2007.

Paula Abdul has a reality show? (more to come on this little gem). Welcome to 2007.

That ought to do for now. If you see anything that takes you back. . . way back, feel free to add it!

On the flip side. . .

2007-06-25T11:58:00.000-07:00

My friend Craig and I were talking about movies this weekend and he brought up the following:

Pete's Dragon. (Who knew there was this much information on this show?) How rad (and yes, I did mean to say that) was this movie? Any movie with a tagline of "Brazzle Dazzle Brilliance!" is worth seeing, I don't care who you are. Don't worry - there's a soundtrack.

On a serious note. . .

2007-06-25T11:28:00.000-07:00

Today I was, again introduced to the harsh reality that this world is full of crazies. Take a look at this guy to the left. Does he scream "Upstanding citizen with a good heart" to you or is the tune more like "Psycho lunatic that may kill someone someday"?
Well that's what he did this morning. This idiot was an inmate who shot and killed a police officer who was escorting him to his orthopedic doctor's appointment. My first question, why do we offer inmates orthopedic doctors to visit. Maybe I'm thinking of this incorrectly but isn't that kind of a luxury at this point? "Oh, your back hurts from sleeping on a cot?" The most appropriate response to this would be "You should have thought of that before you ________ (fill in the blank with unnecessary and pathetic previous crime)." Instead, we say "Tell you what. . . let's take you to a premium-care facility and just get you the treatment you need." NO! I don't agree with this at all. Congestive heart failure = doctor. Brain aneurysm = doctor. Sore knee from too much basketball during 'free time' = too bad sucker. Take an Advil and call it a day. There are thousands of people who can't afford to visit a facility like this and yet we'll send our inmates there for treatment. If you are going to use my tax money for orthopedic treatment, offer it to the homeless or the destitute. Don't waste it on this idiot.
Second question about this whole thing - what is this world coming to? It kind of seems like you can't wake up anymore and see a single good thing on the news. What is it in today's society that makes people like this think that they can disregard the well-being and even lives of others? It's almost like people aren't afraid of the law anymore or that they'd rather spend time in jail than get a hobby. Paris can tell you that jail is not the place to be. . . why don't these lunatics get it?
I'm saddened by the fact that it takes something like this for us to step back and think "Could this have been prevented?" You bet it could have. I realize that sometimes, there are no signs that would warn us that a person is dangerous but give me a break with this one. What part of the swastika tattooed on his forehead wasn't a small warning of insanity? From the recent Trolley Square shooting to this (and this is only local news ind you), there has got to be something that can be done to treat these people before they get to their breaking point. Thoughts?