Moving Day

I decided to take my blog to a new home and that a move to WordPress was the way to go for me.

If you got to this page, please update your link to:

http://www.uthostage.com/

And come join me at my new home!

Stacey

Mormon Graffiti

Driving down Bangerter Highway, you will often see messages written in the fences that cross the highway.

In plastic cups. True story.

You will see anything from birthday messages to welcome home messages for missionaries. Even marriage proposals. They usually don't last long. You might see the messages intact once as you drive by. The next time you pass by? The messages are most likely distorted, possibly even transformed into something totally different from the original message.

I took this picture on the way to work this morning. This message has been intact for I think 3 weeks now. I'm amazed at how much effort was put into it and at how respecful people have been to not destroy it. Of course now that I've said that.....well, you know.

Wordless Wednesday

Now if only I could remember what I did with the disk.....

Hell really has frozen over and I can prove it.

Theorem - Hell has frozen over.

Proof - According to Miriam-Webster’s Dictionary, one of the definitions of hell is:

2 a : a place or state of misery, torment, or wickedness.

Misery.

Torment.

Wouldn’t living in a state I loathe for the past 7 years (7 YEARS? WTF?), dealing with the end of my marriage, and getting laid off from my job in two months qualify for being in a state of misery and/or torment? Yeah, I think so too. *snort* (I promise you there’s more to that list, but then we totally go off-topic and skirt the realm of TMI, so it’s best for me to just keep those to myself.)

Therefore, I am in hell.

And since this is what it looks like today:

We can conclude that hell has truly frozen over.

Purge, purge again, and just when you think you're done, purge some more.

I wouldn't consider myself a pack rat.  Now.  When I was younger, though, I started to come pretty darn close.  I kept EVERYTHING.

You, know how it is.  You keep every little thing because you just KNOW that someday you will need it or be able to use it.

You need more space to store every little thing you keep because you just KNOW that someday you will need it or be able to use it.

You need a bigger home to get more space to store every little thing you keep because you just KNOW that someday you will need it or be able to use it.

You need more money to pay for the bigger home to get more space to store every little thing you keep because you just KNOW that someday you will need it or be able to use it.

Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. (There was an old lady who swallowed a fly. I don't know why she swalloed the fly. Perhaps she'll die.) I guess you could say the things I have kept are my fly.

Moving has always offered an opportunity to get rid of some stuff. Why pack it when you can purge it, right? Right. But no matter how much I get rid of, I think I only get through the surface and maybe 2-3 underlying layers. Tops.

And then I just start amassing NEW stuff. Such a vicous cycle.

Well, I'm getting closer to breaking the cycle. The downfall of my marriage, my impending "over the hill" status, and getting thrown out on my collective career-ass, just to name a few, have me thinking of ways to simplify my life. FAST.

I'm starting with closing my MK business. Honestly, it's time. I've been trying to decide what to do with it ever since I started, but never actually DOING anything with it. On any level. I just don't see that getting any better in the near future, so I'm kickin' it to the curb for now.

Another purge category that is long overdue is my craft items. For years, I was a psychotic craft shopper. Let me clarify something, though. SHOPPING does not imply CREATING. I had ideas of really cool craft projects out the wazoo! Sadly, the ideas never quite panned out or didn't look as good in real life as they did in my head. Man, everything looks/sounds/feels/is SO much better in my head. Maybe I should just go live there!

The last on my list right now are my collectibles. The Bradford Edition plates that hung on a wall for a mere year out of the decade and a half that I have had them. Oh, and my Cherished Teddies. What the HELL was I thinking? Sure, they are freakin cute as hell, and did manage to be on display in my house(s) for a little longer than the plates. But ever since the hostage crisis began (I really do need to explain that sometime, don't I?), they have been nothing more than garage dust collectors. I don't really think that was the artist's intention and it certainly wasn't mine either.

eBay/Craigslist/KSL.com and the like are prolly gonna become my temporary best friends here soon. And hopefully things get a little (or a lot) simpler in my life. Think I can sell the husband? Cuz that would REALLY simplify my life lemme tell ya.

So, I'm curious who else out there is a closet pack rat? Come purge with me peeps! You know you want to.

Up yours Winter.

Winter is nature's way of saying, "Up yours." ~Robert Byrne

Winter was just screwing with us a couple weeks ago when the temperatures finally dropped 30 degrees and there was snow on the ground for about 8 hours. But now I think it may finally be starting to dig in for the long haul.

Then again, maybe not.

The weather people say we're gonna get snow this weekend and the temps are gonna stay in the 30's and 40's for most of the next week. Except you I can never believe those people, so it will probably be balmy 80-degree days instead. It could happen!

Last night, it was raining on my way home from class but I didn't think anything of it. And then this was what I woke up to this morning:

Pretty, huh? I still think it's too early, though, to say the weather people were right. I'M KEEPING AN EYE ON YOU PEOPLE! YOU HAVEN'T WON ME OVER YET!

So, it was below freezing this morning, snow on the ground, ice on my car door handles, and what did I do?

Went to Starbucks and got a mocha frappuccino. Just in case.

Happy Birthday USMC.....damn you're old!

I'm just kidding about the old part.

Today marks the 234th birthday of the United States Marine Corps. 234 years. Wow. I really did not know that the USMC had been around for that long. Growing up, I could only really equate the Marines with Gomer Pyle, which didn't mean much except that the show was funnier than shit!

Aw come on! Are you kidding me? What do you mean you don't know who Gomer Pyle is?

Well Go-ollly! Talk to the hand. TALK TO THE HAND!

So, Happy Birthday USMC! And thankyouthankyouTHANKYOU to all past, present, and future Marines.

Wait a minute. Don't go thinking that I'm playing favorites with the Marines. My thanks go out to ALL branches of the military. I'm an equal opportunity military supporter. Why else would I have married first an Army guy and then a Navy guy? I'm totally supportive of the military. Either than or I'm totally sadistic. What's next? A Marine? Hmmmm.....there's a thought.

OORAH!

Spooky Six Word Saturday? Perhaps not.

I've missed that past few SWS (so sad) and my six words today are not spooky (well, I guess they could be depending on how you look at them LOL), but here they are:

Husband's leaving for two weeks. WOOT!

*updated* I will not let Twitter ruin my good mood.

Overall, today wasn't that great.

I attended two hour-long meetings that were a complete waste of time (but they were shorter than the hour AND A HALF that they were actually scheduled for, so there is that), talked to the secretary of an attorney who can't seem to get it through her head that they ALREADY GOT THE DAMN CHECK (gotta love Payroll, right?), and got extremely frustrated with my problems getting on & viewing tweets (wonder if Brizzly is going to be blocked here at work soon too.....possibly and then I'll REALLY be screwed).

I got a break, though, when I was talking to her about her about her day. We were getting ready to say goodbye, when all of a sudden, OUT OF THE BLUE, she says, "I love you."

And it sucks bcuz I can't tweet it.

Update - And by 'her', I mean my daughter. I guess Twitter flustered me more than even I thought. Great. NOW I'M AN ADDICT! Does that mean it's time for TA. Noooo, not T and A. TA. Twitterers Anonymous.

Getting a spider put on your fingernail is a bad idea. Cuz you'll probably die. Or go to prison. Where you'll die. Or become someone's bitch.

Basically, nothing good can come of it, so just don't do it.

I have acrylic nails. I have had them forever and I maintain them RELIGIOUSLY. I really don’t have a choice. I have to keep them up. If I don’t, I will have no nails. None. Cuz I’m a nail biter. No, you don’t understand. I’m a BAD nail biter (or would that be a good one?). I’ve been one as long as I can remember. I even think I remember my mom saying once that I came out of the womb with no nails. Which means I probably had it from conception. I totally blame my mom. And she is a former biter too, which supports my case. Thanks so much for the genetic defect MOM!

I go in last Saturday for a backfill, like clockwork. The nail place I go to has a HUGE display table full of examples. Anything & pretty much everything you can think of, they've got. Plus they rotate in some seasonal examples cuz they're greedy mothers cuz it's just good business. I head over to the display table looking for something Halloweeny (WTF is wrong with me? Halloweeny?). But anything I remotely give a second glance to is like an additional $30+. I don’t THINK so. Then my nail tech comes over to ‘help’ and I know I’m in trouble. Actually, ‘in trouble’ doesn’t really cut it. I’m screwed. I just can’t say no to her. So, I let her talk me into getting a spider on one of my nails. Great. Just great.

She gets the backfill done first just like normal. Then it’s time for the spider. She puts a big glob of black acrylic goo in the middle of my nail. I just KNOW that there’s an egg sac in there that's just waiting for Halloween night to bust open and take me as a human sacrifice. But how do I tell her NOOOOO! I’m not ready to die yet! without coming across as rude? I just can’t do it. I just can’t tell her that her idea scares the living shit outta me. So I suffer in silence. And while the end result is quite attractive and season appropriate, it does nothing to calm the horrific fears I have of what is to come on Halloween.

And since then.....

I have to hide that fingernail. I have noticed the spider eyeing people around me looking for more potential victims. YIKES! I can’t let that happen! I’d go to prison for murder cuz who in their right mind would believe that a spider on my nail killed people? Plus, I would not make a good inmate. I would completely freak out. Which would leave me a prime candidate to get a shiv in the prison yard. Yep, I’m that girl. Or another inmate would corner me in the shower and make me her bitch. Neither of those are good options for me.

Also, everytime I catch the spider out of the corner of my eye, I freak out screaming, “Spider! OMG! A SPIDER!” Then I grab my stapler and start banging my hand with it yelling, “Kill it! Kill it! KILL IT!” And then my biting habit kicks in, but I CAN’T GET IT OFF!

So now my hand is a sick combination of black/blue/purple/yellow and that finger is all shredded and bloody. It’s pretty much completely useless. Which is why it took me a week to write this post. And my job is in danger of ending even earlier. I keep getting written up for being a disruption in the office. But then again, my job will be over when I get arrested for murder anyway.

Can anyone recommend a lawyer? I’m gonna need a good one to keep me from going to prison. And then I think I'm gonna sue my nail technician. It's all her fault. Better yet, I’ll sic my spider on her. Yeah, that would work.

Six Word Saturday

Lounging around and avoiding homework today.

Check out Six Word Saturday here!

Gigglesnort of the week

Mondays are rapidly becoming work avoidance days, so I'm getting caught up on my to do list from yesterday.

Many of you are asking, "WTF is a gigglesnort? A lot of my friends can tell you just exactly what it is. A gigglesnort is something that is so amazingly funny, so outrageously funny, so laugh-out-loud funny that it causes me to snort. And it's no itty bitty snort that leaves you wondering whether or not you really heard it. It's loud. There's no mistaking EXACTLY what is and EXACTLY where it's coming from (i.e. me). And I want to share the things that make me gigglesnort (or come really close to it). Cuz I don't wanna be alone. I KNOW there is someone else out there that will react just as I do. You know who you are.

So to start it all off an email I received this past week from a friend:

A professor at the University of North Carolina was giving a lecture on 'Involuntary Muscular Contractions' to his first year medical students. Realizing this was not the most riveting subject, the professor decided to lighten the mood slightly. He pointed to a young woman in the front row and asked, "Do you know what your asshole is doing while you're having an orgasm?" She replied, "Probably deer hunting with his buddies."

It took 45 minutes to restore order in the classroom.

Disclaimer: I did some research so that I could properly credit the source, but did not find it at the time this was posted. If anyone comes across it, let me know and I will update this post. Thank you!

My mood at the beginning of the evening would have fit in better at a 2 Live Crew show instead of a Rick Springfield show.

Well, I just finished my homework, so let's see if I can downshift and talk about this weekend. I know there are some curious minds out there. Now, it's entirely possible that this will make sense to no one else but me. And I will not be in the least offended if you run screaming from this post. LOL

Last Friday is the Rick Springfield concert in Wendover. The show starts at 8pm and the trip takes 2 hrs from our house(especially going down Bangerter). I plan to leave home around 5 pm to allow time for motel check-in and maybe food (big maybe). The husband leaves work at Noon to take our daughter to stay with his mother. Even with travel time, he has plenty of time to get ready. I leave work at 4pm, like I planned, cuz I can't take the day off or leave much earlier than that. I plan to dress casual, cuz it's not Vegas people. It's just Wendover. But I want to fix my hair and makeup a little, though. Anyone who really knows me knows that I didn't already have my hair and makeup done for work. And I still need to pack a few things. I get home to find the husband dressing up. And I'm all, "You don't need to dress up. I'm not." He says he wants to dress a little nicer. Fine. Whatever. I pack my stuff in the suitcase and all that's left is to change my top and fix my hair/makeup. Husband says he thought about going to the bank, but didn't actually do it cuz we can stop by on the way out of town. That makes no sense to me since he left work more than 4 hours ago, but fine. Whatever. He then remarks that he didn't realize this was a dress rehearsal. And I'm all, "Dress rehearsal? WTH is that supposed to mean?" And he says nevermind, which of course pisses me off. So when he does finally answer me, it's a derogatory remark about me wanting to make myself look a little nicer. And I'm all, WTF? You're dressing up and you can't understand why I wanna do my hair and put on some makeup? You left work when? And you couldn't bother to stop by the bank to save us some time? Seriously? Ok, so that was all in my head, but still. I was pissed. So I go into the bathroom (slamming the door for the desired effect) and realize that there's no time to do my hair or makeup. That's just great. Thankyouverymuch. I throw my hair up in a ponytail and come out of the bathroom to start throwing my last few things together. Maybe I'll have some time once we get there to put some makeup on. I tell the husband that I'm upset about not doing anything wrong, but yet being made to feel really small for needing to do a few things. The husband then decides to tell me to go by myself and to have a good time. I NEED to have a good time by myself, he says. And I'm all, "Absolutely not! I'm not going to give you an opportunity to throw it back in my face later that I was a bitch who kept you from going to this concert! You're going!" I may not speak to you for the entire trip, but you are FUCKING GOING! Ok, so that last part was an exaggeration. I grab everything except his CPAP and stomp down the stairs. The husband is behind me mumbling how I'm stubborn for not letting him carry anything. And I'm thinking, Dood, you just need to shut the hell up and get in the damn car before I change my mind! I throw everything in the car. And realize I'm starving. I know I won't be eating before the show and I WILL be drinking. A LOT. That's a given at this point. So I search the pantry for something to eat and the husband asks if I want yogurt. And I'm all, "Yogurt? And exactly how am I supposed to eat that?" He says with a spoon. And I'm all, "Seriously? While I'm driving?" Cuz I'll be damned if I'm gonna let YOU drive! We get on the road and he doesn't say a word. Not one. For like 30 minutes. And I'm thinking, Dood, you are SO not helping your case. He finally apologizes, and for once it actually sounded sincere (Long story. Really REALLY long story.). And he offers to drive so I can get ready. No way I'm letting him drive when we're in a time crunch. HELL no. So we settle into a slightly less awkward silence for a while, which is just fine by me.

The rest of the drive was uneventful until the last 30 miles or so, which is where we encounter a bunch of drivers that are freakin' STOOPID. They have no idea of how to drive on a two-lane highway (hint: YOU DON'T CAMP YOUR ASS IN THE LEFT LANE! I'm just sayin.). My tolerance on the road is...oohh...zero. Zilch. Nada. Especially now. So, to get away from them, I end up doing 100 the rest of the way to Wendover. The husband looks over at one point, and I'm all, "Yes, I AM doing a hundred!" Just stay on your side of the car. You're still on my shitlist! Ok, so I only really said that first part. But the rest was on the tip of my tongue, I promise you.

Capping off the night? The motel. I have a reservation, but there's a delay checking in. The desk clerk goes to get someone's help. Oh shit. This other person comes out and says that the reservation was cancelled. Ummmmm, I didn't cancel my reservation. The new clerk says they have one room available (a suite) that's $129.95. Ummmm, I STILL didn't cancel my reservation that was booked at $60. She says they'll get it fixed. She calls customer service who tells her they cancelled the reservation per a phone call on 9/6/09. Ummmm, oooook. I supposedly called to cancel my reservation that I made ONLINE and no one thought to send me a confirmation ONLINE that it was cancelled? Sure, I totally get that. I do it all the time. Amazingly, I stay calm (I have NO idea how at this point). The clerk says they'll fix it and gets us a room. I'm all, Didn't you just say that you only had one room? Sweet, we're gettin the suite? Niiiice! Oh, we're getting a regular room? Fine. I'll take it. We're running out of time before the show starts, so I don't fucking care anymore. I just want a place to sleep tonight. Wait! Didn't you just say that you only had one room left?

We head straight to the concert hall after that and I'm so close to spewing forth the slew of 4-letter words I've been bottling up for the past 2 hours. Ask Twitter. I've got just enough time to throw on some mascara before the concert. And with a wave of that magic wand, I'm transformed into Princess Cinderella who gets swept off her feet by Prince Charming. Ok, so maybe it wasn't quite that magical. Rick never got anywhere near me. But I got to see a great show.

And I can't believe it just took me 3 hours to write this. I was reliving it.....in real-time. Great.

My 1st Girl Talk Thursday

What kind of undergarments do you wear? Panties? Bra? Underoos?

I think this topic is a brilliant way to start participating in Girl Talk Thursday, don't you? Sadly, it will be pretty short cuz I'm writing this kinda late and I'm starting to get sleepy. I probably will re-read this tomorrow and add some brilliance to it that I just might miss tonight (watch for the update! LOL).

I have a little late-blooming love for undergarments. But if I had money, it would be a full-blown obsession! I would need a separate closet for just my undergarments! True story. I have my comfy undergarments for some days. The girls need support after all and I'm all about support. But...on the flip side...I just love sexy, frilly, racy, steamy undergarments that just plain make me feel hawt! I am not (I repeat NOT) afraid of thongs. BRING ON THE BUTT FLOSS! Even if no one sees my underwear, I know they are there. And that knowledge it a huge ego boost. HUGE. And the times when someone does get to see them? Honey there's not enough water in the WORLD to put that fire out!

And since Victoria's Secret can't seem to get a fucking clue of what size a REAL sexy woman wears, I have to say how much I love Frederick's of Hollywood. Frederick's is this sexy woman's saving grace. I wouldn't be able to indulge my addiction without them. Actually, I think it's time I head upstairs and do some indulging. For me. My ego could use a boost.

Dancing in the street? Maybe not today.

It's raining. The first big fall rain of the year.

Not that sprinkly shit that decides to tease everyone with the possibility of a temperature drop, but then says "PSYCH!" and stops leaving us hot AND wet. Not from the rain, though, but from the following muggi-ness that hangs afterwards.

Afternoon rain reminds me of another afternoon, a freakin' million years ago (a.k.a. high school). I can't remember what time of the year it was (cuz it was a freakin' million years ago. What part of that did you NOT get?). My friend Robyn and I were at my house and it started to rain. Only it was still sunny outside. So what did we do? We went outside and danced in the rain. In the middle of the street. True story. Cars drove by and we waved. WAVED. We waved at them and kept dancing. After, we went back in the house, soaked and laughing.

There are times when I miss those days. Like today. The first big fall rain. And I would love nothing more than to go outside and dance in the rain. Maybe not in the middle of the street. I'm not crazy. I AM NOT!

Ok, so I just looked out the window. It's raining REALLY hard. And it's REALLY windy. And there's thunder and lightning. I think I will have to postpone my rain dancing for now.

Fuck. My car windows are open.

One week down.....

I actually finished my college checklist. WOOT!

Apply/get accepted (completed)

Take placement tests (completed)

Complete New Student Orientation (completed)

Apply for financial aid (completed)

Select classes (completed)

Register for classes (completed)

Start classes VERY IMPORTANT! (completed)

I survived my first week, amazingly, considering how much things have changed. I'm taking one in-person class and one online class, but all my homework is online. So weird. I spent hours yesterday doing my homework for my College Algebra class bcuz not only am I learning how to use MyMathLab for homework, I'm re-learning a lot of Algebra (or more accurately refreshing my memory).

The online class I'm taking is Computer Essentials. If I don't ace this class, I deserve to be bitchslapped. And I already have friends waiting in line to help me out with that. Gotta love 'em!

I haven't written here anywhere near as much as I would like. I hope it doesn't get worse over the next few months. But who knows, maybe my college experiences will give me even more to write about.

Tales of a 5th grade superstar!

 

She's a superstar in my eyes, of course.

This child, who regularly sends me to my *happy place*.

This child, who is not a mini me, but is a spot-on mini him (in personality more than anything).

This child, who couldn't wait to get rid of me on her 1st day, even at a brand new school.

This child, who was FINALLY able to give us the details of her day at school without a single "I don't know."

This child, who was AMAZED at having more lunch choices at her new school (and actually had a salad on her 2nd day. WHO IS THIS GIRL?).

This child, who is growing up so fast. She truly is a superstar.

*updated* It's blog play time with Stacey.

My blog is in need of an overhaul. I think. Or I'm just SO bored today that I'll play with my blog design to pass the time. Either way, you guys are gonna LUUUUUUUVVVVVV me! Maybe not after I burn your eyes with some gawd-awful background color that is immediately blinding. LOL

Suggestions are welcome, along with (contstructive) criticisms. I imagine this will be a work in progress for the next............oh let's just say forever! :)

Let's have some fun!

Update - Ok so it's pretty bare bones right now. Bear with me. It's temporary. And I expect to hear from you if MY temporary lasts for weeks months years forever!

*updated* The series of tweets that became a blog post.

I've totally figured out the cure for my insomnia..........going to work.

It’s a payroll week and I’m busy, but all I can think of is closing my eyes and going to sleep.

Fuck people’s paychecks. They don’t need to get paid, right?

Oh all RIGHT! I’ll pay them, but then I’m putting my head down and going to sleep!

Ok, so I keep forgetting that I’m sending things to the printer. I get up to do something else and then realize I don’t have what I printed so I print it again.

OMG I’M KILLING TREES! I should be burned at the stake!

I need to be stopped cuz it's not enough that I'm killing trees by wasting paper. Apparently I need to burn them down too for my self-mutilation/self-sacrifice.

I'm going to hell.

Good thing I don't believe in hell.

And that the liquor store is just down the street.

Update: So that last line doesn't really make sense to me, which means I imagine that it *absolutely* doesn't make any sense to a lot of people. So, let me add that if I'm going to hell, I'll be the geeky popular wanna be who brings booze to desperately try to fit in.

Look out Satan.....here I come and I'm bringin' a keg to get the party started!

I had to do it to make the voices go away.

I just couldn't help it. Not one bit. While taking my daughter to return her library books (b cuz she told me *tonight* that the books were due back *today* - of course they were), I heard a voice quietly calling my name "staaaaacey". Then I heard it again a little louder "Staaaaaaaaaaacey". Well, I guess the voice wanted to make sure it wasn't ignored, cuz the next thing I heard was "STACEY GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND BUY ME ALREADY, OK?????" What could I do? Sure, I could have resisted temptation, but who needs a waistline anyway? I hear they're overrated.