Better watch out or the INSECTS WILL GET YOU!

One of my favorite lunch joints is the Great Outdoors sandwich shop. It's one of those delis where they cut the meat right in front of you, and they have about 8 million toppings to choose from...it's an all around class act. But, when you commit to the Great Outdoors, you have to be ready to wait for your love, especially if you hit the drive thru lane. A typical drive thru lane time is 10 minutes, although its been known to take upwards of 30. Today was one of those long wait days, but I wasn't too stressed out about it. It's gorgeous outside, I have an hour to acquire then accomplish lunch, so I had no worries. So, I'm just hanging out, listening to the radio, being lazy. Then, just out of curiosity, I look towards the restaurant's window, and out of the corner of my eye, I see this big-ass wolf spider, crawling along the door of the car...WTF, man!? BIG. FUCKING. SPIDER. It was so big, I could see his face and all his creepy spider leg joints. I squealed like a little girl, then flicked him off the door with my debit card. Then, I noticed that the spider had not only been meandering along the car door, he had started spinning a damn web from the top of the car, down to the door lock area...I had been waiting for my samich that long. When the cashier slid the window open to get my money, I told her about the spider, and she said "well, that spider is still on your door", she pointed down, and when I looked over the edge of the door, there he was! The resilient little fucker was still there! Damn! I flicked his ass off again, threw some cash at the lady, grabbed my samich and split Spider Town with a quickness. Moral of the story, I like sandwiches, but I don't like big spiders.

The Old F-You

So, I got home from work Weds., and noticed a rather suspicious smell. Smelled like turds, to be more exact. It took me a while to find said turds, but I did. Here's what I think happened:

I brought my pal T-Bone's cat Lucy home, cause T-Bone was out of town. This caused my 2 cats much, much distress. My big cat was actually okay with her, but my little cat was freaking her shit out. I'm talking hissing, spitting, tail all puffed out rage. She actually flew across the room and jumped poor Lucy. I felt so bad. Poor Lucy was just trying to hang out, you know? And here comes pyscho-cat, jumping all up in her grill, breathin' up all her air. I kept Lucy in my bedroom for the next 2 days, to see if my cats chilled out, and they really never did, so I took Lucy back to her house Tuesday night.

Fast-forward to Weds. evening. My big cat likes to express his displeasure in meaningful, fragrant ways. Normally, he just yaks all over the carpet, but he'll drop a deuce for special occasions. So, I'm certain that the steaming logs in my closet were just his way of saying "fuck you, Mom...fuck you for bringing that other cat home...what the fuck were you thinking?"

You have to admire that kind of moxie. I mean, if I had any balls at all, that's what I would do when people piss me off. I can think of at least one person who should have a chilli-fueled messy dump waiting for her right now...yeah...that would be sweet. Maybe I'll get chilli for lunch.

Good news, everyone...Grandy's caters!

So, I'm driving to my favorite samich store, the Great Outdoors, and I sees this big ole sign, advertising Grandy's catering service. Now, is that something we really need? Methinks not. I'm not exactly a food-snob here, I just can't believe that joint is still in business. What do they even serve there? I have vague memories of soggy, brown green beans and chicken fried meat-stuffs. If I'm going to be eating "home cookin'", I sure as hell ain't gonna get it from Grandy's. That's why God invented Luby's, afterall. Seriously...Grandy's? (shakes head). I just can't believe a place that was such a consistant dinning disappointment can stil be in business. On the other hand, Long John Silver's is still stinking-up the joint, so I guess there's room for all shades of quality in the fastfood spectrum.

In in like Flynn

Well, it's official like a referree with a whistle, I am going to grad school. Booyah, mother fuckers! Now I just have to figure out how to pay for it...anyone want to buy me some grad school? I'll be your best friend...

Super-Square, coming through!

Well, it's official: I, Blogda, am a super-square. I'm applying to MBA programs. There, I said it. I'm applying to MBA programs, and I'm gonna be a business man when I grow up. So there.

Yeah, I know I have a painting degree, I know I'm an Art Director, I know I said I'd never be a sell-out business man, but here I am. I like being a Strategist. I like that the client asks for my opinion before anyone else. I like being heard. It's so satisfying. All in all, the Strategy field is BOSS. Seriously, this is the sweetest job I have ever had, and this strategy junk makes total sense to me, so I'm figuring, why fight it? This situation is rad, and it must continue to flourish. I must climb even higher up the Strategy Dept. ladder! The only buzz-kill in this plan is that I'm a wee bit lacking in the formal credentials area...hence, the need for the grad schoolin'.

Sure, I'm gonna have to take classes like "Finance", and "Statistics", but I ain't sweating that shit. I'm so bad, I kick my own ass twice a day, I can handle that shit. Scratch that, I'm gonna tear that shit up. Finance is gonna be my bitch. Statistics is gonna lick my boots, it's a certifiable fact, you dig? So, sleep better tonight knowing that Blogda is on her way to being a super-square business man, the type of rock star business man that makes the others in the room pee themselves a little bit. Well shit, they kind of do that anyway.

So...no day-job, huh?

I was out running errands during lunch this afternoon, and I noticed that there were about 8 million people in the 24 Fitness center near the Target I frequent. This intrigued me. Now, bear in mind, I took a late lunch today because I thought I had a lunch meeting (turns out, I didn't) so it was like 1:30 when I noticed all the workers-outters. Seeing all those people through the gym windows got me thinking, these folks must not have day jobs, otherwise, they are taking 2 hour lunches or some shit like that. Which is irresponsible, unless I'm the one doing it, then it's progressive. So, anyway, I kept seeing these massive dudes with gallon jugs full of lord knows what (one of them was opaque light blue, which lead me to believe that he was guzzling Smurf cum), strutting from the gym and into their cars. Freaking huge dudes...dudes so big they couldn't put their arms down to their sides because their freakishly huge lats are in the way. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but that is not your typical 30 minute "run to the gym" guy, right? This is a guy who has a 3 hour plan to blast his quads every other day...so how is this dude possibly going to have a day-job? I think they're all deadbeats on the dole, that's what I think. Stupid muscly jerks...eating up all those sweet, sweet unemployment dollars I'll need when I get canned...assholes. I bet they could bench my car though.

My Niece is so Damn Cute

It's a fact. And my brother likes-a-the-fish.

Things that displease me

1.) Blue M&Ms
I'm an M&M purest, and I liked my brown, tan, green, yellow and orange M&Ms just fine. What's this blue shit? I like the Earth tones, baby! Fuck the blue M&Ms, fuck them in their smug little blue asses. Same goes for you red M&Ms.

2.) 20 something boys at Gold's Gym
#1, I am not impressed with how much you bench. #2, Yelling the word "faggot" to your pals is inappropriate (even if he does prefer the company of men), you're in public for godsake, not your rat-hole apartment in Addison Circle. Your job, 20 something boys, is to sit there, and look pretty. Don't over extend yourselves, it just makes me hate you.

3.) Auto-Renew functinality
If I wanted more of that stuff, I would have ordered more. Don't try to tell me what I want and need, you don't know me, you don't know me at all!

4.) IBM Stink Pads
Boy, my Stinkpad sucks balls. It's moody, unrealiable, (insert 1990's comedian joke about women here). It's like all the negatives to a bad realtionship, without any of the boot knockin'.

Welcome to Menopauseland, the unhappiest place on Earth!

I came across a headline about this new destination website called "Menopauseland" in one of the trade pubs I read (oh yes, I read the trade pubs), and it offended me greatly. Now, I can see how creating a social space for menopause-suffrn' Estroven users to commune/celebrate with each other is a good idea, I really can...but seriously..."Menopauseland"? Are they high? Let me tell you from experience, menopause is flat-fucking awful (I had medically induced menopause from a drug called Lupron twice in my 20's). I don't ever, ever want to hang out in a place that evokes all my memories of severe hot flashes, weight gain, massive mood swings, etc. The word "menopause" is extraordinarily evocative and polarizing (to both women and men), and should be used with caution laced with respect. It's also exclusively owned by women who have experienced it, so anyone seeking to casually appropriate it is looking for fistful o' trouble. With all that said, if the purpose of the site is to remind Estroven users that their lives are not in fact run by their menopause symptoms, why the deuce would you call the site "Menopauseland"? The name of the site makes me think that Estroven has no idea who I am and what I want or need. And that is the kiss of death for a brand. This article astounds me, and it reminds me of a righteous truth: a great idea can be ruined by a poor execution. Oh, and that fat white guys shouldn't be working on feminine brands.

Brandweek
Estroven Ads Beckon: Come to Menopauseland
April 15, 2008

By Todd Wasserman

Few women look forward to menopause, but Amerifit wants to make Menopauseland a popular destination with a $20 million campaign for its Estroven supplement.

The effort, via BrandBuzz, New York, describes a metaphorical place where women are unburdened by the effects of menopause thanks to Estroven, an over-the-counter supplement made up of all-natural ingredients such as soy and black cohosh, plus vitamin D.

The campaign includes 15- and 30-second TV spots, print and online revolving around a postcard image from a woman to a friend, describing how Estroven has helped her in the journey to Menopauseland, where the sun shines and dark clouds are short-lived.


"Our extensive market research showed us that women in this lifestage are celebrating their achievements and if they can keep the symptoms of menopause at bay, they are happier now than they were when they were younger," said Steve Swenson, director-marketing at Amerifit Brands, Cromwell, Conn., in a statement. "Menopauseland is a place where women successfully navigate around their symptoms of menopause and are able to embrace this new phase of life."

http://www.brandweek.com/bw/news/recent_display.jsp?vnu_content_id=1003789751

Fucking idiots...probably spent millions of damn dollars on this shit too...jackasses. And what's with the Janice Dickenson-lookin' bitch they have on the front page? Seriously...these guys are idiots. I hope they all get itchy ball rashes.

All is well in the belly of the Blogda

God bless modern science, she has delivered me from endometrial evil, yet again. Surgery went great. I had quite a bit of endometriosis behind my sly little uterus, which where erradicated with LASERS! I also had some adhesions on my 'testines and right ovary, which are now free and clear. And lastly, I had a cyst on my right ovary (that the ovary that a Dr. in DC told me was "suspicous"), so that sucker is gone too. Unfortunately, I have 3 extra holes in my belly right now, which are ailin' me something fierce, but they will close up in no time, so I ain't too mad at that. Once I go in for my follow-up appointment, I hope to get my gut-pics...I can't wait to see me from the inside.

Pictures of my Guts

Tomorrow morning, I go into the Plano Surgery Center for a laparoscopy of my abdomen. See, I gots the endometriosis real bad, and the only recourse is surgery. In case you’re wondering what endometriosis is, here’s a quick synopsis:

Ladies, as we all know, have a uterus. Inside said uterus, endometrial cells grow, forming the endometrial lining. This is the lining that becomes the amniotic sack (for holding babies and shit). If the lady doesn’t get in the family way, the endometrial lining dissolves and leaves the body with the extra blood supply, which, in laymen’s terms is “the period”. Endometriosis happens when those endometrial cells grow outside of the uterus, in the abdominal cavity. They can be anywhere; kidneys, intestines, liver, ovaries, etc. Since these cells are jerks, they bleed every month when the lady gets her period. The body responds to this random bleeding by forming scar tissue over the site. This can cause adhesions, which are massive scar tissue build-ups that end up attaching things to stuff (like ovaries to intestines, or intestines to kidneys…not a good scene). Another delightful side effect is ovarian cysts. These nasty little bastards attach themselves to left or right ovaries, often times growing to 10 times the size of the ovary itself. I hate cysts. Having endometriosis means feeling generally terrible, and can lead to possible infertility and in the very rarest cases, death.

So, now you know what it is. The upside of things is that while they’re in my belly, they’re gonna take lots of hi-resolution picture of my guts. How rad is that? I’m gonna start a site called “Pictures of my Guts.com” I can’t wait to see what’s happening in there. So, there you go gut-pics to come.

“Well, he had to hit me”

I went to a brunch thing this weekend, and I met the coolest little kid of all time. Me, my pal Karen, my new pal Adrienne and her 6 year old son Hudson we all enjoying our meal out side on the patio, and Adrienne told us that she had a story about Hudson to share:

“One day last week, I had to work a little late, so my husband picked the kids up from school. When I got home from work, Hudson’s best friend David’s father called me to apologize for David hitting Hudson at school that day. I said to his father, ‘I didn’t hear anything about this, let me call you back.’ I go find Hudson and ask him if David hit him at school, and Hudson said ‘well, he had to hit me... I’m made out of titanium, and he had to know what it felt like to hit titanium.”

Hudson was sitting there with us while his mom was telling the story, and when she was done, he nodded his head and said “I am made out of titanium.” We asked him if he came that way or if he had the titanium put in later. After giving us the stink eye, he said “I came this way. And I’m gonna live 1 hundred twenty thousand years!” He went on to say that he could eat a piece of ham as big as a window. Coolest. Kid. Ever.

ALL HAIL MUSTACHE!!!!!

This is my friend Smooth. God he's cool.

I love drugstores

I love, love, LOVE drug stores. There is so much crap in there to look at and buy. Last time, I was in a CVS near Garland, I found this crazy-looking supplement for men called "Super Macho". I think it's made out of bull testicles or something. God knows what it does, but I had to buy it. I have no logical reason to own this item, but I love it none the less. Maybe it's because of the design of the package. I will buy something if the package design is cool enough. Hey, I'm an art director, I can't help it. I also love tactile package design, and this Super Macho was all thermographyed and shit (thermography is when the ink is really, really shiny and raised up a bit). I fucking love it.

And another time, I was at the Wal-greens in Uptown, and I was very surprised to find a gay pride t-shirt display. I commented to my pal Amber how odd I found it that Wal-greens sold Pride shirts, and her response was "you haven't seen the lube aisle yet." Lube aisle? No way! Sure enough, that Wal-greens has an EXTENSIVE personal lubrication selection. All major brands were represented, as well as a few fringe brands that were new to me. They also offered the liter size, pump-top lube containers, for those with heavy lube needs. The other thing about the lube aisle, they had cock rings for sale, but in very tasteful and discreet packaging. Crazy stuff man. I love drug stores so much.

Anyway, so I was wondering through CVS, waiting on my pills to be ready, and my gaze was captured by this black eye patch. HOLY SHIT! You can get a legit, pirate-style eye patch at CVS! That's awesome! I wanted it so bad...I was going to show up at work tomorrow, wearing my eye patch, just to look mysterious. And, when people asked me about my eye patch, I would simply say "I don;t want to talk about it." Maybe I'll do that next week. I heart you, drug stores!

Child proofing? I gots it.

An open letter to the C. U. Next Tuesday at the gym

Madam,

My stars! You must be really, really important, or famous or something. You must be like JLo or Colin Powell important! I was so humbled by your presence in the cardio theater this morning, I almost asked for your autograph, but then I was too shy to ask. I mean, you must be someone super amazing, I can't think of any other reason why you would need to take 2 cell phone calls within 10 minutes of each other this morning...in the gym...2 treadmills away from me...in the cardio theater. Surely something catastrophic would have happened if you didn’t take those 2 calls, even though it sure looked like you were just gossiping, I bet you were really saving the world....you know, "taking care of business". Cause if you weren't "taking care of business", you would have intentionally violated the sanctuary of the cardio theater. You wouldn’t do that, would you? I mean, the cardio theater has the same rules as a regular movie theater, and you know that. You wouldn’t take 2 cell phone calls in a regular movie theater, would you? No way, you're way too classy to be doing that nonsense, right? Man, I sure am glad those 2 phone calls were that important, and that you were the only one on the planet who could have provided the answers to those questions, and that you felt confident enough to take those calls, even though you were in the cardio theater with several other gym patrons. However, if you ever pull that kind of shit again, in my cardio theater, I'm gonna pull a razor outta my titties and cut you.

My gym is so boss, except for the bitches, that is

I love my gym. Love, love, love my gym. It's a five minute drive from my joint, it's got a clean, fancy ladies locker room, an indoor lap pool, and this fantastic room called the "cardio theater". The cardio theater is such a flippin' good idea; I wish I had come up with it. It's about a quarter the size of a regular movie theater, and it has about 8 million treadmills, ellipticals, gazelle thingies, bikes, recumbent bikes, and one big-ass movie screen. It's dark, so no one talks, and they play a movie over and over again, all day long. So far, I've seen bits of Blades of Glory, Transformers, Lord of the Rings, and, sighs with disappointment, Fantastic 4 (God that movie was a stinker). Not great cinema, by any means, by Lordy, is it a great way to pass the time. Usually, I’m too distracted by my cardio machine, the other gym users and their antics, and by my brain nagging me with a constant "are we done yet? are we done yet? are we done yet?” Stupid brain, trying to puss-out on me. So, this cardio theater is the mutt's nuts, I love it. There are only 3 noticeable flaws to this gym that I have found so far: 1.) the shower curtains are about 6 inches shy of being wide enough to cover the shower stall's width (so everyone get's the $5 show for free), 2.) there is no steam room (Mama loves her steam rooms) and 3.) there are a few bitches who need to back the shit off. This week alone, I have had 2 bitches give me the super-sized stink eye. WTF? I'm friendly; I always give a head nod or a "good morning" to all my fellow gym goers. Hey man, we're all in this together, there's no need for petty stink eyein'. I can’t help it if I'm prettier and younger than you dried-up old skanks. You might as well be mad at the sky for being blue, so knock it off...or else I'll pull a razor outta my titties and cut you.

P.S. Thanks to this post, my spellcheck now has the words "skanks" and "eyein'"

Thumbs down on Cincinnati's airport

Okay, most airports kinda blow. On the whole, airports are the least happiest place on Earth with the exception of the Georgetown Hospital ER, but Cincinnati's airport sure was something special. Picture this: worn and patchy carpet, everything is closed down (even though it's 5:30 in the pm), a Santa Clause-lookin' hobo eyeballin' me, and a sharps container in the ladies room. You know what a sharps container is? It's a used needle receptacle...for dirty hypodermic needles. Now, either Cincinnati has waaaaayyyyy more than its fair share of insulin injecting diabetics wandering around, or waaaayyyyy more smack addicts walking around. Who has a sharps container in a public can? Some kind of derelict town, I suspect. Oh Cincinnati...(shakes head with disappointment)

Those boys at Lowes sure are nice

So, I ended up at Lowes last Friday night, because my garage door opener had a dead battery. And I needed a few things, but mainly because my garage door opener was busted. Normally, I'm summarily ignored in man-huts such as Lowes, auto parts stores and Circuit Citys. Which is fine by me, I don't need their help anyway (kicks can...shuffles feet). Honestly, I really hate it when sales dudes talk down to me, so I generally try to get in and get out before I get reminded that my *husband* should be making these sort of decisions for me. Oh wait...I'm an old maid...yeah...forgot about that. Anyway, back to the story. I goes into the Lowes, and the first thing I want is a wee pint of paint, so I goes to the paint guy. The paint guys are usually rather sketchy, but this was a smiling young man, and he got to making my pint of paint immediately. Another Lowes gent was loitering nearby, and I asked him if this place cut keys, and it turns out, HE was the key guy! He took my keys, then brought them back before my paint was even done being shaken. Then, he patiently tried to figure out how to open my surprisingly complicated garage door opener, so's I could get a new battery. Turns out, my opener is the Rubics Cube of openers. It took 2 guys to figure it out. But, we got it in the end, and I was on my way, full of paint, keys and power. It was such a pleasant trip to Lowes, those fellas sure were nice. Maybe it's because I wasn't wearing a bra.