The Pioneer Woman Travels to Houston

We all know I love the internet. And my computer. I mean, that's where all my friends live. ;) One of the neat and slightly odd things about the internet is that you can know all kinds of things about a person you've never met. Like how she met her husband or what her kitchen looks like or how she feels about mushrooms. Things that 20 years ago you wouldn't know about someone without having met them or having a gossipy grandmother that had.

The Pioneer Woman is one of those people I know all kinds of things about and had never met. She writes/blogs about her "decade-long transition from spoiled city girl to domestic country wife." I find her fascinating and funny and feisty many other words that start with F and end with Y. Especially friendly. Pioneer Woman aka Ree Drummond took her witty writing and recipes from the web to paper. She wrote a fabulous (I swear, I didn't do this on purpose but I cannot stop using F adjectives) cookbook. You can buy it at any bookstore. The cookbook came out a few months ago and she's currently on a book signing tour.

She stopped in Houston this past Saturday and I headed out to meet her with some of my other internet-turned-real-life friends. My friends Reneé, Natalie and Kristen introduced me to the Pioneer Woman's blog a while back. Reneé, Natalie and I (along with N's sister and adorable daughter) met up at Georgia's Market to meet Ree.

Reneé and I went to Blue Willow Bookshop on Tuesday to pick up a pass to stand in line and meet Ree. I purchased by book from Blue Willow and they offered me a pass to the yellow group for buying my book through them. I declined and took an orange pass so I could hang out with Reneé and her friend Nicole. The ladies at Blue Willow were so freaking nice. I wish their shop was a little closer to where I live. The store is so neat and it turned out to be way too small to host this event so it was moved to Georgia's Market which was just a short drive away.

They had a dutch oven (it looked like a le creuset -- WANT) out and some papers so you could ask Ree a question. They selected several questions to ask and then she let people in the audience raise their hands. Reneé worked that to her advantage and asked two questions. One about the worst thing PW had ever cooked and then one about another book about Ree and her husband's courtship. You know, I don't think I've ever used that word before. Courtship. Weird.

Reneé and I totally lucked out in getting a seat. Natalie did us a huge favor and saved us seats. Now, the seats were tiny. I sat down and wanted to take my coat off and I felt like Chris Farley in Tommy Boy. Fat guy in a little coat ... Natalie was reminded of Friends. "Could these chairs BE any smaller?" But everyone around us was super nice and chatty.

Here's Ree answering questions in front of a bunch of organic rice milk.


After the Q&A session, they started calling colors for signing passes and we waited for our turn to have our book signed. We were in the fifth color group. Not only did she sign every book (and some people had more than one), she chatted with every person and posed for a picture. The girl in front of me had several books. I would have felt bad for bringing more than one but Ree just smiled and signed and chatted away. That probably says more about Ree being a nice person than me being a nice person though. If I was the one signing books, I'd be thinking "seriously? You want me to sign all of these?"

Reneé, Nicole and I were the first three in line for the orange group. Ree told Reneé she liked her outfit that everyone was so dressed up and asked if that was normal for Houston. Reneé is usually dressed well but we had attended a Christmas party before the signing so she was all Christmas-y in her green sweater and heels.

I went next. Here's me and Ree (we're on a first name basis now)
OK, a couple of things. She said she liked my laugh and it was infections. And then in true Karen-talks-too-much fashion, I told her that my nickname in college was Flipper because people think it sounds like a dolphin. And she said she'd never have thought of that and I said something like "well, that's not the worst thing I've been called."

I meant in relation to my laugh (which someone I didn't know once said it sound like a turkey). But that's not how it came out at all.

And secondly, I have got to start taking flash pictures in shirts before I leave my house. Hello, beige grandma bra. I see you.

Here's my signed book:
See! First name basis!

I also got a t-shirt. It's an adorable brown tee with flowers and whatnot. The woman handing them out was nice enough to ask if I wanted a medium or large. They are cute little baby-doll type tees. Yeah, I will totally take a medium. (In fact, the large is about 3 sizes too small but it's so cute and I am working on slimming down so hopefully I'll be able to wear it in the next 3-5 years.)

When I was trying to take a pic of my book, Pan had to get in on the action:
I'd like to say he was waving but actually he was trying to attack the wrist strap on my point and shoot camera.

The whole experience was great. I got to hang out with some girlfriends that I don't see enough. The bookstore/venue had everything organized so well and we really didn't have to wait that long. Ree was wonderful, of course. And I ran into some ladies, er people, I hadn't seen in years. -- I'm just not ready to call people my age "ladies". Maybe when I'm 40 that will sound less weird.

My cats make me laugh

Nothing says crazy cat lady like posting pictures and videos of them on Facebook, Blogger and a message board.

Pan is super entertaining. He freaks out if a baby cries on TV. He has been "fighting" with this cat that keeps showing up on my porch. I have yet to get a video though because that cat only shows up at 8 a.m. And if I'm home at 8 a.m., I'm in bed.

Here's Pan. He's unamused by me.


And her's a bad quality video of him trying to sleep. He did this for about 10 minutes. I filmed it with my phone because I was afraid to move and he'd stop.




Katanna is also unamused by me.


She loves my suitcase though (bad quality pic but still cute)

Someone with more motivation than me needs to invent a motivation pill

I have zero motivation. I don't want to do any work. I'm here. I've got all of the programs open that I need. I have coffee and diet coke available.

But I just can't get motivated. I don't know what's wrong. I know that no one else is going to do the work. And the more I put it off, the more stressed it'll make me to do it. But I've got Target.com open, blogger open and I've played Bejeweled Blitz for about 30 minutes today.

I even tried to give myself a stern talking to but I got about 3 words in and decided I didn't have the motivation for that either.

I'm going to have to work over the weekend if I don't get busy. There is a scene in Boogie Nights where Philip Seymour Hoffman keeps hitting himself in the head and saying "stupid, stupid, stupid".

That's me right now.

Two weeks!

I haven't seen my nieces since November of 2007. My sister and nephew were here earlier this year for a couple of months when my other sister had her first baby. My brother in law was here last year to do some stuff with their house. But the girls haven't been home since they moved to Japan (this time).

I have about 30,000 things to do at work before they arrive. They are flying in on the day the international applications are due so I probably won't see much of them the first few nights.

But they will be here for three weeks so I will get to spend plenty of time with them. I'm so excited! I hope they are too ;)

Hmm, maybe that's why my head hurts

I have a list in my head of things I want to write about. Yet, here it is, two (er, three) weeks after my last post. Maybe tonight I'll write all those things down and carry it with me. That might inspire me to actually type out some stuff.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago I was on the treadmill and for some reason the water in my bottle tasted funny. I always fill up my water with ice and filtered water because the water that comes out of water fountains tastes funny and you never know what people are doing to drinking fountains when you aren't around. I just assume it's something I don't want to know about.

As I'm walking and taking sips, I realize that the water tastes a little like cranberry. Which would be OK if I bought those PUR flavor filters.

Since I do not, I had a good idea of what the problem was. A couple of weeks before this, I had purchased some cranberry vodka. After having a vodka/soda, I put the lid on and stuck it in the freezer.

Apparently (this is where I make a big hand gesture when telling the story in person), I did not screw the cap on all the way and when I rearranged the stuff in the freezer so I could put 10 Lean Cuisine Cheese French Bread Pizzas in there, the bottle fell over. (As an aside, I love those and they are very hard to find. I don't want pepperoni and I don't want supreme! I want cheese! So I stocked up when I saw them at Target. And they were on sale!)

The bottle fell over and cranberry vodka dripped into ice cube tub. The bottle had been at least 3/4 full -- I'm not entirely sure I had only made one drink ;) It was now down to about 1/4 full. There was a nice vodka/ice sludge in the bottom of the ice cubes. I could pretend I dumped it all down the sink but anyone that knows me very well knows that's not what happened. I dumped it into a bowl and stuck it back in the freezer for the next time I wanted a vodka and soda. (A good blogger would have taken her camera out and captured a picture of the sludge but I did not)

Coincidentally, the next day I woke up with a migraine at like 5 a.m. I occasionally get them from working out and I occasionally get them from drinking. If I had to guess, I'd say drinking while working out is definitely NOT a good way to avoid migraines.

Chicago with the girls

When I moved back to the Houston area after college, I didn't have a whole lot of friends in the area. I was posting on a message board for Aggies and eventually met quite a few people at happy hours set up through the message board. I've become good friends with several girls I've met through the message board. I call them girls but we're all grown women with jobs and whatnot.

It's been 6 or 7 years since I met most of them and now several of them are married (or divorced and re-married). They have beautiful kids and beginning to scatter all over the country.

Most of us spend a lot less time on that original Aggie message board. We talk about things that don't necessarily need to be so public (I mean, do 5,000 people need to know that my pap smear was abnormal AGAIN?) So, we have a little private board we chat on.

One of the girls is pregnant with her second child and wanted to do a girls weekend before she was 1. too pregnant to fly 2. the mother of two beautiful babies.

We planned it pretty quickly and the dates were hard to coordinate. It ended up being only three of us but we had a blast. We had pizza at Gino's, went to Willis Tower (aka Sears Tower), saw a pirate exhibit at the Field Museum and watched the Aggies get embarrassed on national TV at the ESPN Zone.

In August I was worried about getting myself on a plane to Atlanta and by October, I had been to Atlanta and Nashville and was going on a trip to Chicago. I even navigated the train and bus to the hotel from O'Hare National Airport. What a difference three months makes.

Here are a couple of pictures from the trip:

Every time I see this one of me and the giant globe at The Field Museum, I sing "she's got the whole world in her hands." Thanks Jami!


Standing out on The Ledge at Willis Tower



Looking down


View from the skydeck


It was a great trip even though it was short. We decided to do the same thing next year. Boston is the destination!

Oh Look!

I'm the worst blogger ever!

I have been keeping busy though so as soon as I feel like typing, I actually have some stories to share.

Maybe this weekend. It's finally going to feel like fall this weekend. Sounds like a good reason to make some Butter-Nut instant hot chocolate and type up some stories for all of my adoring fans (stop laughing!)

Sometimes I wonder if I have some brain damage

I hate buying gas. I hate having to stop. I hate having to pay for it. I hate everything about it. So it's pretty amazing I haven't run out of gas since getting a car with a working gas gauge. My first car, a 1989 two-door Buick Regal, didn't have a working gas gauge so it was a guessing game. At first I could guess based on the mileage driven but after a few years the odometer stopped working. Luckily I was living in College Station and didn't do much driving.

In my Honda, the gas light comes on when the tank is 1/8 full. So, it gives me a pretty early indicator that I need to go get gas. But instead of going when it comes on, I drive with it on until I decide I should probably get gas or end up on the side of the road in 100 degree heat.

It's kind of stupid really. I know I have to get gas. But I think to myself "oh, I'll get it in the morning" and then in the morning I'm running later than I should be, I sometimes consider chancing it. It's ridiculous! It's inevitable that I'm going to run out of gas at some point. You'd think I'd be smarter than that, but I'm really not.

Some people don't know what express means

I am a neglectful blogger. I have had a post to share in my head for about 4 days and it's just not being written. Oops!

I went to the grocery store last week to pick up two things: cat food and toilet paper. I try to avoid doing much shopping at the Kroger near me because it's always busy and I hate waiting in line for an hour. Plus it's not the most inexpensive store.

It's on the way home so I ran in to get my two items and decided that the express lane with two customers in it was a better choice than the Self checkout line with 10 people in it(4 registers). In general, people are too stupid to check themselves out.

So, the lady at the front of the line has more than 10 items. I personally think that should be a felony but grocery store managers and owners do not want to piss customers off so they never tell these inconsiderate assholes that they need to get in another line. Oh, and by the way, if you have 30 jars of baby food or 100 cans of dog food, they don't count as one item.

I've already committed to this lane and getting into another one always turns out to be a very bad decision, so I just wait. I read the covers of all the magazines and learn more than I wanted to know about Jon Gosselin (From Jon & Kate Plus 8). At this point, it's been like 4 minutes. Which is an eternity once you notice the Item Limit Felon is ahead of you.

The cashier finally gets all of her stuff rung up and the the lady pulls out a wad of cash. And counts it out. Slowly. And hands it to the cashier. The cashier counts it. And then the lady has a balance. Instead of getting her other form of payment ready, the lady watches the cashier count out the stack of bills and just stands there. She finally looks for a card in her wallet when the cashier tells her the remaining total. She uses a credit card to pay the rest. ARGH!!! So now we have to wait for the receipt to print out so she can sign it.

It's a really good thing I am afraid of confrontation because this lady was about to make me homicidal!

It's now time for a grocery shopping trip and I hope for everyone's sake, that no one makes me angry tonight!

Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

I am addicted to Dexter. If you've never watched the show, it's about a serial killer. Dexter Morgan works for the police department forensics department as a blood splatter expert. And he's also a serial killer. But Dexter doesn't just randomly kill people, he researches them and kills bad people. Specially people that haven't been caught or got off on a technicality.

It's a great show. I normally don't subscribe to the "all the good girls love the bad boys*" theory (hey, stop laughing. I can be a good girl. I mean, I'm definitely not a serial killer!) but for some reason I have a crush on Dexter. He fakes his way through a regular life, has a job, a girlfriend and some semi-friends. I've read the books the show is based on and they are good, but the plot lines have been changed to make it better for TV.

Anyway, I live a in a no-cable world, but even if I didn't, I wouldn't pay extra for Showtime. Especially now in the wonderful world of TV on DVD! Season 3 came out on DVD last Tuesday and I pretty much stayed up too late watching Dexter every night. The next season is starting soon, but it'll be month before it is released on DVD. It's very tempting to go online and watch them. But it's also probably a bad idea to watch one episode and have to wait a week to start the next one ... in contrast to my Dexter DVD marathons. On the other hand, I might actually go to bed before 2 a.m.

----

*On a side note, that quote makes me think of the song Bath Water by No Doubt. I like the song, it's very catchy and I like the melody. But if I sit and think about it, it makes me want to throw up. If you are curious, the lyrics are below:

You and your museum of lovers
The precious collection you've housed in your covers
My simpleness threatened by my own admission

And the bags are much too heavy
In my insecure condition
My pregnant mind is fat full with envy again

But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn't love another
I can't help it...you're my kind of man

Wanted and adored by attractive women
Bountiful selection at your discretion
I know I'm diving into my own destruction

So why do we choose the boys that are naughty?
I don't fit in so why do you want me?
And I know I can't tame you...but I just keep trying

'Cause I love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn't love another
I'm on your list with all your other women
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
You make me feel like I couldn't love another
I can't help it...you're my kind of man

Why do the good girls always want the bad boys?

So I pacify problems with kisses and cuddles
Diligently doubtful through all kinds of trouble
Then I find myself choking on all my contradictions

'Cause I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn't love another
Share a toothbrush...you're my kind of man
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Make me feel like I couldn't love another
I can't help it...you're my kind of man

No I can't help myself
I can't help myself
I still love to wash in your old bathwater

Talkie, Talkie

My mom and I went to watch the Texans play the Saints in an exhibition game. Thank goodness it was exhibition because the Texans defense looked like crap.

But anyway, two guys who looked to be about in their forties sat next to us. And I think during the whole game, they said maybe 10 words to each other. They didn't talk about the weather, their kids or even the game. They've done studies that show women talk three times more a day than men. These guys were doing their best to bring that number down even lower.

I talk a lot. A whole lot. But even if I didn't I can't imagine spending three hours with someone and not talking. It's not like talking would interfere with watching the game. TV timeouts are long. I kind of wonder if those guys rode to the stadium together and sat in silence the whole way to Reliant.

Those are the kinds of things I think about alte at night when I'm trying to sleep.

Ramblings

I have already mentally checked out for the weekend. Next week will be a little crazy around the office. So instead of pretending to work for another two hours, I thought I'd type up some thoughts for you all to read.

I've been in a little bit of a funk lately. I don't feel bad or anything, I'm just not motivated to do much. I really need to start making a to-do list. I have several things that need to be taken care of, at home and at work, and I have just been pushing them further and further back.

My schedule is about to get a little more hectic. It's finally time for football season. The first home pre-season Texans game is tomorrow and then in two weeks, it'll be time for some trips to College Station. Hopefully the Aggies will make it a little more fun this year. If not, I'll be in the parking lot drinking excessively with some of my favorite drunks.

I'm going to Nashville next month with some friends to visit and to see the Texans play the Titans. I've never been and I'm really looking forward to it.

Another set of friends and I are talking about going on a long weekend trip somewhere. Everyone is spread out across the states so we're trying to pick a destination. Their first choice was Nashville and they want to go the weekend following my Nashville trip. Oops! So now we're tossing around some other places.

I printed out some calendars earlier this week and wrote down all the football games and trips and whatnot I have coming up. I have a blackberry with a calendar on it but there were things saved on it, some on my work outlook calendar and others I just had scribbled on a post it note. (I freaking love Post Its by the way) I am a huge fan of computers and technology but sometimes I just need to see it all out in black and white. If I get industrious (unlikely) I might put them all in the blackberry calendar. Someone informed me I can sync my BB with a google calendar. That might be a better idea. But again, that involves me actually doing it instead of talking about it.

Hopefully by tomorrow I'll have something funny to share. I'm meeting a friend for drinks and dinner tonight so maybe that'll improve my mood!

Insomnia

I have always wanted to be one of those people that can lay down and fall asleep in less than five minutes. Night after night I lie awake trying to shut off my mind. My brain is almost as talkative as I am in when I'm surrounded by friends.

People who have never suffered from insomnia always have cures, none of which actually work on insomnia. Warm milk, a dark room, a cool room, only using the bedroom for sleep. They all sound like great ideas to people who occasionally have a little trouble trying to sleep. So, they think those are actual cures for insomnia. Those are the people I kind of want to punch in the face, especially after a night where I slept less than 4 hours (and that was with the aid of an over-the-counter sleep aid). Most people really don't understand that you can be exhausted, physically and mentally, and still be unable to fall asleep.

William Shakespeare suffered from insomnia. He apparently used the time more wisely than I do. I toss and turn and try to force sleep. He wrote plays and sonnets and left behind a legacy of greatness. I'll probably leave behind a legacy of laziness and clutter and dolphin laughs.

Shakespeare is one of my favorite writers. Several of his most famous characters were insomniacs. I guess he could relate. One of my favorite quotes on insomnia is from Henry IV:

O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
And steep my sense in forgetfulness?
William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part I

Tonight I might use the extra hours of awake-ness to spruce up this blog.

I can handle being 30 and fat, I can't handle being 40 and dead

I kind of had a new post mapped out in my head about my trip to Georgia and whatnot. But I'm just not feeling up to it right now. I've had some other things on my mind.

I decided today that I have to start being healthy. I have to work out. I have to stop drinking so much. I have to cut way back on the food intake. I really don't want to die at 40. So, I brought my lunch to work today and actually ate it, even though I met some friends for lunch.

I came home all motivated (that's a lie, but if I keep saying it, maybe I'll believe it) to work out. I put my workout clothes on, tied my tennis shoes tight, filled my water bottle up and walked to the apartment complex gym only to find a sign saying it was closed until further notice for updating. It's like the universe wants me to be fat (or they had a sign up for weeks and I never saw it because I haven't been in at least a month).

Day one of the gym was a failure. But I did some half-jumping jacks (jumping jacks for women wearing two bras to workout and still having to hold their boobs to keep from pulling a muscle or getting a black eye. Basically, i hold my chest down and do the jumping part) in the living room. I added in some lunges and arm lifts and what not. I figured since I already spent 10 minutes putting a sports bra on, I might as well do something active. It's been so long since I've worked out, I'm sure I'll feel it tomorrow and it was only 15 minutes worth.

I've gained 75 lbs since I started my job almost five years ago. I'd like to lose all of that plus another 20 or 30. I have some jeans from 1997 that I'd like to wear again. Yes, high school jeans that are out of fashion now. The waist is probably up under my boobs; the rises have come down a lot in 12 years. (holy crap! It's been 12 years since I graduate high school. That doesn't seem possible.) But I've moved those pants from apartment to apartment to my parent's house to apartment -- you get the idea -- over the past 12 years because one day I'll be able to at least pull them up. I won't worry about actually buttoning them.

Tomorrow is another day (I have Gone With The Wind on my mind). Tomorrow I'll exercise, eat well and go to bed early.

It's a good thing I live alone

I am in the worst mood, and I have no idea why. I was tired all day but I'm not sure that's why my mood is so bad. I think if someone asked me what was wrong, I'd snap. So I think I'll go read Gone With The Wind (which I'm never going to finish apparently; I'm only 500 pages in) and call it a night. I will update you all on the good times I had in Atlanta tomorrow.

No ma'am!

It's the first full day of ATL vacation and we're being lazy. It's awesome. Later Jami and I are going to get out and see a movie and hit up Orange Julius. YAY! I know you are all as excited as I am.

We played Wii last night and it turns out, that I'm naturally a pretty good Wii bowler. But I am not good at Wii tennis, baseball, or Mario Kart. I think I can improve my Mario kart tonight. Maybe I need alcohol to drive a cartoon kart. There is a bucket of margaritas in the freezer with my name on it (well, and Jami's name).

The trip here was pretty uneventful. I woke up at 3:20 yesterday because I couldn't sleep. I swung by Shipley and picked up some kolaches for the Georgians. Apparently Georgia hasn't discovered the yumminess of kolaches yet. I was at the airport bright and early by 5:30 for my 7 a.m. flight. Security didn't even notice the pursefull of kolaches. Every time I got something out of it though, my nose filled with the smell of cheese and sausage. drool.

The people watching at the airport is always awesome but the best thing yesterday was a lady on my flight. She had on her "I-am-going-to-Atlanta" pants.

I couldn't take a pic at IAH because it was so quiet at our gate and the Blackberry doesn't have an option to turn the sound off on the camera. (I'm guessing stalkers don't use blackberry camera phones.) Luckily she was right there when I walked off the plane. I give you Atlanta Pants:


The red squares are your standard Coca-Cola logos and the white squares have the vintage saying "it's the real thing" on them. I am guessing she bought them at the World of Coca-Cola on a previous trip (or she's really odd and lives in Atlanta and wasn't being a tourist). I'll be on the lookout tomorrow for any of those pants' cousins.

Today's highlight will be the Orange Julius I'll be drinking later.

Oh, these are the essentials?

I leave for Atlanta in the morning and I'm feeling pretty anxious. Did I pack everything? Do I know where I'm going? Where I'm parking?

I haven't traveled much in my life. I've been on an airplane nine times. I could count because it wasn't very many! For my very first flight, I did a one-way to Phoenix and came back to Houston via the Car Ride From Hell. It wasn't anyone's fault, but I traveled back with my sister, her husband and their two kids. The youngest one (now middle), was about six months old. Every time it was my turn to sleep, she would cry and scream. I don't blame her, I wanted to do the same! Add in the dog and the cat, and it was a VERY long trip back home.

Of all those trips, I only flew alone that first one. That was pre-911 so not only were the security and everything different, but someone dropped me off and picked me up. So, this is my first real adult airport trip. I booked my own ticket, am driving to the airport and parking in the city economy lot and I'll be all alone.

This is one of those times where I feel like I'm a kid wearing an adult suit. I'm 30 years old and kind of freaked out about doing all of this alone. Is 6 a.m. too early to drink in the airport bar? Is the airport bar even open at 6 a.m.? Probably not -- stupid Texas liquor laws. I don't think they can serve until 8.

I've got my bag all packed. I've got a list of things to do in the morning taped to the back of the front door (am I the only one that does that?). I put a pair of underwear in my purse in case my luggage doesn't make it.

I'm about to go to bed at 10 o'clock for the first time in forever. The alarm should be going off .. shit, I didn't set the alarm. What else am I forgetting?

I leave you with one of my favorite clips from Brian Regan (This is the first time I've added a video so you'll have to click the link and watch it until I figure out how to embed them.)

I'll be coming to you live from Atlanta tomorrow. And I didn't proofread this so hopefully it makes sense and I didn't use the wrong homophone anywhere.

I am not feeling it

I'm just not feeling the funny tonight. I have to work tomorrow and then I am off for 9 days. I imagine I'll be in a much better mood with much better thoughts tomorrow.

Oh, I do think I have a good name for my grocery store though. Petite's Eats. Thoughts?

Singles in the Kitchen

I live alone and as an aloner, I rarely cook a big dinner. I can't remember when I started helping in the kitchen. I know Mema (my grandmother, who I miss so much) would pull a chair up to the stove so I could stir the boiling pot of chicken broth and PET milk for the dumplins she was dropping in. I'm not sure letting a kid that couldn't see over the stove near an open flame was such a good idea, but it worked out for me. I was cooking easy dinners for the family by the time I was 12. Jarred spaghetti sauce and noodles? I can do that! Tacos? Done!

So, when I cook dinner now, I make way too much food. I buy way too many groceries to make one meal and I end up throwing a lot of food away. I can only eat Mexican casserole so many times before I'm sick of it. I will sometimes throw it in the freezer, but it just stays there for a few months until I toss it. I don't know why, but I never eat leftovers out of the freezer.

Even when I do cook a meal for myself, I have to buy more of things than I need. I don't need a whole bag of carrots to make chicken noodle soup. Same thing goes for celery ribs (mmm, ribs ... oh sorry, I got distracted).

So, if I had the money to do it and I wasn't a lazy ass -- I mean, seriously, I'm almost too lazy to post on this blog every day -- I'd open a chain of grocery stores for singles and people that don't buy for more than two.

I throw away sleeves of crackers and half-boxes of cereal all the time. I'm not a big ice cream person, so if I buy a half gallon of Blue Bell, I end up tossing at least half of it because it gets freezer burn. (I know, you're all thinking, a fat girl doesn't throw ice cream away. I would rather have an appetizer than a dessert. So I do throw ice cream away)

So, my propsal is this: The anti-Costco. While toilet paper (only Ultra Plush Quilted Northern for my hiney, please) by the ton is a good idea, food by the ton isn't a good idea for a single gal. I can't eat 25 pounds of carrots before they go bad. This anti-Costo needs a name. Dinky's? Pint Size? ooh, maybe PintCo. Mini Market? Petitez? Desparation? I like Petiez so far but maybe I'll come up with something awesomer.

Anyway, this grocery store would only sell the small size of things and you could buy a single carrot or a single chicken breast. Need a tiny amount of cliantro? We've got it. Need just one serving of Cookie Crisp and one cup of soy milk? We've got it. Got a late night craving for a grilled cheese? Come by Petitez and grap a couple slices of bread and a couple slices of cheese. Need one egg and a cup of flour to make cookies?

All of these items would be around the same price per oz/lb as items you buy in "bulk" at the grocery store now. If Ritz crackers are $2.59 for 4 sleeves of crackers, one sleeve would be about 75 cents. A carrot would be like 20 cents. An chicken breast would be $2.

I know I'm not the only singleton with issues like this. According to recent numbers from the Census bureau, there are 92 million single people above the age of 18 in the US. Which is 42% of aged 18 and up Americans.

Plus, when a you see a woman in a regular grocery store with a cart full of cat food, boxes of wine, chocolate bars and Lean Cuisine, you know she is most likely single. If you shopped at store for singles, maybe you wouldn't be the only one wheeling around the cart of hope and desperation.

(BTW, I'm sure everyone caught the sarcasm in that last line, but if not, I like being single and never feel desperate.)

Memories, misty water colored ... (see, I have a problem) ..

I'm going to Atlanta next week to visit some amazing people and it turns out they have Orange Juliuses (Juli?) there. Back when you could only get Chick-fil-A at the mall food court, there was an Orange Julius a couple of stalls down at the mall we frequented. (Willowbrook Mall was the only one close, so that's where we went. Nothing was really close to Magnolia).

If you aren't familiar with Orange Julius, it's basically a smoothie place. Think Jamba Juice but in the 1980s. Their famous drink is made from orange juice, ice and the eyelashes of a unicorn. OK, so I don't know what is in it. I do know that it was delicious. I'm not sure when OJ left Willowbrook Mall but it's been a very long time. So I'm really looking foward to stopping in for one. I wonder if the people who run OJ and the Coffee Bean get pissed off any time they see someone holding a Jamba Juice cup or a Starbucks' Frappucino.
I kind of wonder though, if it'll be as good as I remeber or if it'll taint the awesome memories I have of the mall food court and it's delicious concoction. Seeing New Kids on the Block did not taint the memories of the Astrodome 1990 show. I just made some great new memories involving NKOTB. Good company goes a long way, so I think that even if the drink isn't as good as I remember, something memorable and meaningful will happen.

Sandpaper pedicure

Can someone explain to me why my cat likes to lick my feet? Because Katanna does. And if I move my foot under the blanket to make her stop, she crawls under there and continues licking. Anyone that knows me very well knows I hate feet. HATE.THEM. So the fact that she likes licking them grosses me out. Even more than the fact that she licks her own butt. But not as much as the fact that if she barfs, Pan will try to eat it before I can grab paper towels to clean it up.

And while I’m on the subject …when do you know you’re a crazy cat lady? Do the old women with 30 cats living in their house know they are crazy cat ladies? Or are they in denial. I joke around that I have a crazy cat lady starter kit, but what if the people laughing when I say that are just laughing AT me and not WITH me. I might be a few Facebook photos uploaded away from owning fuzzy sweaters with pictures of cats chasing yarn on them and no one has told me.

It’s one day (er, not even 24 full hours) since I started this blog and I’m already not sure who I should share it with. Do I really want everyone I know to know that I sometimes eat queso cold, straight out of the fridge and that I once peed on the floor a little because a giant tree roach was crawling on the bathroom wall and I was mid-stream? (TMI?)

Hmmmm.

We'll see how it goes the next few days.

Welcome.

When you’re 15 and envision what your adult life, I don’t think anyone plans on being 30, single, overweight and living with two cats in the ‘burbs. I sure as shit didn’t. But that’s what happened. And it’s not like I’m unhappy with the way things turned out, they are just different. And I might be unhappy if it weren’t for the lovely medication brought to by the letters G, K and S. Thank you GlaxoKlineSmith.

So I thought I’d start a blog because I’m self absorbed enough to think I’m hilarious. And if no one else laughs, well then that just goes to show you that everyone else’s sense of humor sucks. I went to sign up for a blog and I had a great idea for a name: Houston, I am the problem. Turns out some bitch - that doesn’t even live IN Houston - already took that name. Boo. So, maybe I have a problem instead of knowing I do? And by problem, I mean problems, plural. Oh, maybe that one is available. Sweet. So, now I have a blog. With a name. And it needs some TLC but I’m lazy so we’ll see how that goes.

So, the name. And the blog. I have been reading all of Jen Lancaster’s books (which you should read if you haven’t. They are hilarious). She’s inspired me to actually write down the funny shit I think of while I’m home alone. I went into the kitchen a little bit ago and decided on chips and queso for dinner. With a mimosa. What? It’s not like I don’t have 100 lbs to lose or that I am reading a book about a fat girl trying to lose weight (Such A Pretty Fat). So I decided that I'd like to incorporate the name of the city I live in (and love) and the fact that I have issues. Plural.

So once again, I’m going to start tomorrow.

Hopefully I stick with the blogging and the dieting.