Thursday, February 24, 2011


Hey gang. It's me again. One of the ladies who ain't got no baby.

I've had another... weird week. It was Monday. There I was, minding my own business, when I decided to go get the mail (which I never do, (sorry Beck)). We occasionally get letters and magazines for the dude that used to live in our place before us. As I was tossing the crap into the recycling, I come across a magazine with a red, Mini Cooper on it. Now, I've always had a little thing for Mini's. Maybe it's because I think I might look great in a Mini. I mean look at me, I'm rather mini myself. It just works. So I was like, awesome, guy who lived here before was into cars. I tear open the wrapping on the mag and flip it over. Guess what. BAM! Bare boobs, bosoms, breasteses! I gasp and throw the magazine down. Becca's like, "what??" And I'm like, "Boobs! Becca. Playboy. That wasn't a car magazine! That was a freaking Playboy!" (And I'm not talking about the Playmate cooler  my Grandmother so innocently calls a Playboy). What are the odds of seeing MORE boobs just one week after my run in at the gym in the girls locker room. What did I do to deserve this? Karma or whatever is working against me. Anyway, for the record, that thang went right in the trash.

Anyway. The next day was Tuesday. I came home. Took a nap. Ate some din. Went to the gym to shoot around, blow off some steam. Got there and there were some fellas trying to start a pick up game. They asked me if I wanted to play, I gratefully declined. But after they started playing full court, and were consistently interrupting my shoot around, I decided enough is enough. So they asked me to play again. I said, why the heck not. So I played 5 on 5 with a bunch of dudes. And guess what, it was a pretty good time. Are you wondering if I got handled? I know I'm little, so it's a legitimate question, I'm not offended. Well the answer to your imaginary question is, no! I did not get handled. In fact, I held my own! With the boys! Like in the good ole days! I was draining three's like you wouldn't believe! I don't mean to brag here, but after the "Playboy Incident" (as it shall henceforth be known) I really appreciated the fact that I was still good at basketball. At least that day I was.

The Playboy Incident really put a damper on my week. But you know what makes everything better?!?




Sunday, February 13, 2011


i'm going to start this post by taking a page out of my pal shanae's book... well technically her blog, {}.

this week could be described with one word. crap. why you may ask? lots o' reasons. seriously, a lot. 

let's start it out with well, monday. i had to go to work, nuff said. oh and it was monday.

tuesday, let's just call tuesday a giant dump of a day. i won't get into it too much, but might i just say that i saw not one, but TWO sets of bare boobs on tuesday. yes, you read correctly. bare. boobs. bosoms. breasteses. what have you. at the gym. in the locker room. i had forgotten about locker rooms. i really never go in them. i sort of think of them as public restrooms. well, that is just not true. people do a whole lot more in locker rooms than in just plain bathrooms. i walked in there, needing to blow my nose and... bam. bare. boobs. i couldn't divert my eyes quick enough. i was shocked. girl with no shirt. what? no. i've gotta get out of here. turn around, kapow, another set right in my way. ladies, whatever happened to 'modest is hottest'. whatever happened to stalls? whatever happened to clothes, for sobbing out loud? since when are we walking around like men in our birthday suits? nobody wants to see that. i've got beef with public nudity. in fact, i've got beef with nudity in general. call me crazy. moving on, although scarred. the gym was followed by another crappy incident, but i'll refrain.

wednesday, worked late. silver lining, won my church ball game. i like to win. i really do. becca brought home dinner from blue plate diner. what a nice girl. i like her.

thursday, jerry sloan and phil johnson announced their resignation after 23 years with the utah jazz. let me put some perspective to this people: jerry has been coaching the jazz for as long as i've been alive. i grew up with him. i tried to mirror my game after the one and only j stockton, sloan's protege´. i walked out to my car during work and listened to the press conference with tears in my eyes. i felt like i had lost a grandfather. 

friday, wore my jazz jersey to work in honor of the loss. rip jerry. got my hair cut by one of my favorite pals. then, ladies night. sounds like a pretty go day, yeah? jazz score 50 points in the first half against the suns. nice. i'm feeling pretty good. wrong. it was another bare boobs moment. shazam, jazz finish the game with 14 points in the 3rd quarter and 13 in the 4th. jazz=clobbered. jazz looked like... yep, crap. total crap. sigh. oh and i left my wallet, yes my entire wallet, at the restaurant. didn't notice until saturday afternoon. 

i really don't mean to be a downer. i appreciate you letting me vent. and whine. guess what though, i get to sleep in tomorrow. as late as i want. that is not crap.

oh and on monday, it's valentine's day. 


Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Yeah, we know, we suck.

We know, we know. We haven't blogged in two months. We've disappointed you. We've let you down. We've kept you waiting. We're sorry... blah, blah, blah. Maybe we've been busy. Maybe we have jobs. Maybe we have social lives or men... (I'm serious this time!). Here is a photo-montage (not really) of the last 2 months. Word to your mother.
All dressed up for the ladies Christmas party
We heart Santa

Ruby with her saw

The Griswold Family Christmas Tree
Word to my mother

Clark W. Griswold himself

Abe got a little worn out opening all of his presents

Had to take some calls, even at the cabin

Doesn't get much better than that
Ruby and Beck's snowman

Dinner with Raja at Fleming's

Cosmo showed up!

Go Finks!
Sleeping Beauty
Yes--this is a real sign we found