Chocolate Stalker

So let's recap the rundown of my favorite inanimate things in life.

1. chocolate
2. hot showers
3. pizza

Also, anything made with chocolate.  Namely, chocolate chip cookies, cake, brownies, and... aww, hell, let's just say anything made with sugar fits the bill just fine.

The problem with chocolate is that it doesn't quite fit in my diet.  (Ya, I know, real surprise).  And for some reason this past weekend I was having big-time chocolate withdrawl.  So what did I do?

Stalked that chocolate like TMZ on Angelina Jolie.

I went to all its favorite haunts:  The grocery store, the pharmacy, the other grocery store, the discount mega-store.  I crept up the aisle, looking furtively around because I felt like everyone would know I was cheating on my diet and they would call me out in the middle of the supermarket and I would have to leave all ashamed-like.  No one called me out.  I'd pick up a bar of chocolate, turn it over to read the nutritional information.  *sigh*  I'd put it back on the shelf.  I'd walk a little further .  I'd pick up another bar of chocolate and turn it over.  I'd sigh and put it back on the shelf.  I'd pick up a few more bars, put them down, then wander back to the first one.  Pick it up and read the nutritional information again, as if it had somehow magically changed in the last five minutes.  It had not.  *sigh*  Finally, unable to convince myself that I wanted any particular piece of chocolate bad enough, I would leave the store empty-handed.

I DID THIS EXACT ROUTINE IN FOUR SEPARATE STORES.


After I left the third store, I began to realize I might have a problem.  I was one set of binoculars and a telephoto lens camera away from leaving it 15 voicemails of nothing but heavy breathing.  Like a stalker.  A stalker of chocolates.

TMI Thursday, the first

Courtesy of the talented LiLu at Livit, Luvit it’s time for my very first TMI Thursday.

The rules of the game are rather simple: tell a ”completely tasteless” and “wholly unclassy” story about your life.
I'll start by sharing that one of my good friends recently posted on her Facebook status that she had “a small uterus.” This is, apparently, something her doctor had told her. To me it seems like an odd bit of information for your doctor to volunteer. But it got me thinking. What information can I tell 500 of my closest internet friends for this lovely TMI Thursday?

As far as I know, I do not have a small uterus, so I will have to think of something else.

Let's go with the old standby, things-I-did-in-college-that-I-would-never-do-now-because-I'm-sooo-much-older-and-wiser.  Heh.  Anyway, during my college days, I paid for my expenses by waiting tables at a local restaurant. We served a number of different types of pastas, and every pasta plate came with a small side of garlic toast. Make that *delicious* garlic toast, all buttery and warm on slightly toasted foccacia bread.

I will confess to you, here and now and just this once, that sometimes, near the end of my shift, I got really hungry. And sometimes, people ordered the pasta. And sometimes these were respectable-looking people who didn’t appear to have any communicable diseases. And sometimes these people wouldn’t eat the yummy garlic toast on the side of their plate. And sometimes, as I was taking their plates back to the kitchen at the end of their meal, I looked at that untouched garlic toast and thought, boy, I sure am hungry and that garlic toast sure does look delicious.

And. Yes. I did it.  I ate the garlic toast. I picked it up off the plate and took a big bite out of a stranger’s leftover food.  Nom nom nom.

Want more TMI Thursday? Visit Kate at Growth Spurt or click on the TMI Thursday badge at the top of my post for many, many more wonderful stories of things you probably never needed to know.  Read at your own risk.  You have been warned.

Define "Cheap" and "Reliable" Please

Back when Chris and I were in the market for a second car, I spent some time perusing the Craigslist ads. Chris said the criteria were “cheap” and “reliable” so I put together a list of a few cars we might like.

Option #1: a 1991 Camero

Selling Points:
• It could secretly be a really cool alien robot
• Blue

Option #2: a 1996 Neon

Selling Points:
• Racing Stripe!
• Um….

Option #3: an Audi Quattro

I added a few notes here.  I think it speaks for itself.

Now, this last option didn’t quite fit the “cheap” or the “reliable” category. But it sure fit the “cool” category... Click on the link: Option #4

Because who doesn’t need one of those?

Selling Points:
• Drives on land AND on water
• Could pretend to be James Bond outrunning a really, really, really slow enemy (did you look at the max mph that beast gets?)

Needless to day, Chris told me I wasn’t allowed to suggest any more cars.

Time to embarrass myself

The Husband and I had the following conversation.

THB:   So I just got caught up reading all your blogs.
ME:     Cool.
THB:   But I don't understand what the picture of me and my brother at Disneyland has to do with anything.
ME:     It was to show off your twin-ness.
THB:   I think it was just to make fun of us.
ME:    Technically, it was only making fun of Frick. He was the one wearing the pink shirt.
THB:  Yes, and I'm sure Frick really appreciates you pointing that out.
ME:    Frick doesn't read my blog.
THB:   I wouldn't be so sure about that.
ME:    Well, I could put an embarrassing photo of myself on the blog.  To even things out.
THB:   I highly doubt that Frick cares if you make fun of yourself.
ME:    I'll give it a shot anyway.

And here it is:

(I look angry, but I'm not.  I totally wanted to get my hair permed.)

Sunday Advice: Things You Shouldn't Eat

I hate grocery shopping. If I were to make a list of chores that I dislike doing, it would be:

1. Putting Away the Laundry
2. Grocery Shopping
3. Cleaning the Toilet

Oh and “Picking Up Dog Poo” is probably on there somewhere.

Yes, it’s true. I would rather scrub the toilet that put away the laundry. My husband’s socks, especially. Because there are so many of them and they are all white tube socks but some of them have gray letters on them and some of them have a blue Nike swoosh on them and some of them have a black Nike swoosh and HEAVEN FORBID I pair a blue swoosh with a black swoosh. Because I’m sure people look at his socks that closely.

So anyway this last time I did laundry I put away all the laundry except his socks. I left them in the bottom of the laundry basket for until I was ready to “get around to it” only the husband beat me to it and put away his own socks so it worked out well. (Editor’s note: please don’t take this to mean the husband does not help around the house. He does. I would say we split things about 50-50. The laundry incident was just fresh in my mind.)

But I was talking about grocery shopping. My point here was that sometimes I don’t go to the grocery store often enough and so I have to “make do” with whatever ingredients I have available in the house. Because this has happened more than once (I know, shocker!) I thought it might make a blog thing out of it.

Here it is, the first installment of Sunday Advice: Things You Shouldn’t Eat.

One April morning when I was in college I made myself a cup of coffee. After making the coffee, I discovered there was no sugar in the house. Since I prefer not to drink my coffee black, I went looking for sugar substitutes.

The way I figured it, Peeps were essentially sugar, right? And stale Peeps left over from Easter were hard, like sugar cubes, right? And since I wasn’t going to eat stale Peeps anyway, why not make good use of them and put them in my coffee? Right?

WRONG. For the record, stale Peeps that are colored blue and shaped like bunnies do not work as a sugar substitute in your coffee. My coffee had a floaty blue lump, tasted slightly weird, and my roommates made fun of me for weeks. I haven’t tried the other colors and shapes of Peeps, but I’m making an inference here.

TYSE #1: Coffee-soaked Peeps.

KStew and RPatz make the cover of Paper Plates

FACT: I have read Twilight.
FACT: I have also read New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn.
FACT: I've seen the movies.  And bought the soundtrack.
FACT: If for some unlikely reason I happened to run in to Stephanie Meyer on the streets of Phoenix I would totally ask her for her autograph and be all star-struck and crap.

OK, so these are all facts.  I'll admit it.  I liked those books.  That said, was there really a market for this:

Football Season

Maybe I was a little hasty about the whole TV-for-a-Couch deal being a win-win situation.  You see, I neglected to take into account one thing: football season.  Apparently there is a magical combination of

Big TV + High Definition + Male Roommates + Football = Let's watch football ALL THE TIME.

The sound system didn't help with the situation, either.  Or, Chris has been deceiving me our whole courtship and he's much more into football than he's previously led me to believe.  This past Sunday was the Arizona - Green Bay game.  Chris is a Cardinals fan.  Canuk is a Packers fan.  They both put on their jerseys and sat down to watch the game:

Things got a little heated.  I didn't have the heart to tell them that the referees and coaches can't hear all those "suggestions" they are yelling at the TV.  But football season is almost over, right?  How many days until the Superbowl?  Oh, wait, I forgot that NASCAR starts in a week...

Don't forget to do the math

"I gotta work out. I keep saying it all the time. I keep saying I gotta start working out. It's been about two months since I've worked out. And I just don't have the time. Which uh..is odd. Because I have the time to go out to dinner. And uh..and watch tv. And get a bone density test. And uh.. try to figure out what my phone number spells in words."   - Ellen DeGeneres

 Before the wedding, I worked really hard at the whole eating-right (mostly) thing and the going to the gym (mostly) thing, and I lost ten pounds.  Well, over the past year (after the wedding) I have steadily gained back every single one of those ten pounds, plus one or two extra.  Living with boys sucks at dinnertime, because your 6 oz grilled chicken with salad and ice water does not look nearly as appealing when set next to a plateful of garlic mashed potatoes topped with bacon and cheese and sour cream, a juicy marinated steak smothered in onions and mushrooms, and a roll of warm, crusty white bread with butter, all served with a tall, frosty, full-calorie soda or beer.  And I don't even like steak.

I won't bore you with the details, but just before thanksgiving I decided I needed to kick my butt into gear and go to the gym and start eating more fruits and veggies and a bit less pizza and cookies.  I got myself a trainer and have been fairly successful with my nutritional program, with only a few minor setbacks at Christmastime.  (Oh Fudge and Cookies and Taco Pizza, how I love you so). 

Since I sometimes find myself in one of those social situations where drinking beer is both appropriate and expected, and since I do occasionally enjoy a cold beer, I took the plunge and bought myself a 6-pack of MGD 64.  I figured, at 64 calories to Bud Light's 110, I could drink 3 MGD64's for less than the caloric price of 2 BL.  What a deal, right?  My first clue should have been right there in the supermarket display case.  The MGD64 was sitting in the section right next to the non-alcoholic beers.  Hmmm....

But I carried on and decided that if I squirted a little lime juice in it then I could totally pretend it tasted just like a Corona and lime.  Up until I actually compared it with a real Corona and lime, that is.

So of course MGD comes out with this 64-calorie beer, and Budweiser, in the interest of getting their share of the sorority-girl and middle-aged women's beer market, (because the market for early and mid-twenties non-sorority girls will never completely be wrested from the hands of jagermeister) does them one better and comes out with a 55 calorie beer.

Personally, I wasn't really that interested in the 10 extra calories.  I mean, frankly, if you're drinking beer and you're that concerned with ten measly little calories, you probably are better served not drinking beer at all.  But on a whim one evening during the Christmas break, I grabbed a 6-pack.  Everyone else was drinking Bud Light, and I didn't really feel like getting hassled for drinking something in the Miller family.

It was then I made my sad discovery.

Bud Light has 110 calories, and 4.2% alcohol by volume (ABV)
Bud 55 has 55 calories (duh), and 2.4% ABV.

Now the fact that it is stocked right next to the non-alcoholic beers is starting to make sense.  Boo Hiss, Budweiser for fooling us with your little games! (And for the record, MGD64 functions on the same principle... as one enterprising critic put it, "MGD 64 is about 2/3 the calories, and about 2/3 the ABV, and about 2/3 the taste."

*Sigh* it was fun while it lasted, I guess.

Doesn't Everyone?

I was sitting in the office today when one of my co-workers came out of the break room.

"Krista," she asked, "are those your keys in the refrigerator?"

"Yes."

There was a momentary silence while everyone in the office paused to find out exactly why my keys were in the fridge.  My coworker didn't suspect that I had intentionally put my keys in there, so my affirmative answer confused her.  "Do they work better when they're cold?" someone asked.  I really hadn't been planning on elaborating, but they all seemed to expect an answer.

I shrugged.  "I have half a sandwich in the fridge left over from my lunch.  If I put my keys in there, I won't forget to take my sandwich when I leave work today."

Everybody thought this was funny.  Personally, I thought it was just logical.  I can't leave without my keys, can I?  And if my keys are setting next to my sandwich, then logically I will remember to take my sandwich.

"You see?  You see?!"  Chris exclaims.  "This is what I have to live with every day."  Pause.  "And for the record, that is not logic."

The most beautiful thing

When I arrived home today, the most beautiful thing was sitting on my neighbor's lawn.

Perhaps you might ask why I am so excited the house next door is for rent.....  Because this means the old neighbors have moved out.

Did I hate my neighbors?  No, I hardly knew them.

It was their dogs I had a problem with.  Their god-awful-dumb-ass-twenty-four-seven-barking-dogs.

There were two of them, and they were beagles.  They barked in the morning.  They barked in the afternoon.  They barked in the middle of the night when I was trying to sleep.  They barked on the weekends when I was trying to relax with a good book.  They barked at breakfast, they barked at lunch, and they barked at dinner.  They barked all Sunday long while the neighbor was busy inside watching football.  They barked so loudly that if I was having a phone conversation, the person on the other end of the line would ask, "do I hear dogs barking?"  I'm telling you, these dogs Just. Wouldn't. Shut Up.

I had seen a moving van out front before the holidays, but I thought it was too much to hope for.  And when, for three whole days after we returned from Christmas vacation there was wonderful silence, I really began to get excited.

And today there was proof.  A rental sign in their front yard.  Hallelujah!

Things from my childhood

So I have this clock.  And it’s not just any clock.  It’s a talking alarm clock… from the 80’s.  You see, sometime in the mid-eighties my father got this alarm clock for free.  That’s right, FOR FREE.  It was either a promotional deal for his business or he won it in a raffle or something (hey, I was, like, seven when he told me the story.)  So he gave the clock to me, his cherished and beloved daughter.

It’s one of those early memories that you shouldn’t really remember, but for some reason it sticks with you throughout the years.  I can still picture my dad standing in his home office of our house in Nebraska, reaching for a box on one of the wall shelves, and handing it to me as a spontaneous gift.


Now don’t forget, this was an era where computers only made beeping noises (and ran black-and-green DOS screens), cell phones were just coming into existence, and most people still had record players alongside their tape players.  A talking clock?  That was revolutionary.  Not to mention JUST PLAIN AWESOME.

The clock, a Spartus model 1108 for those of you wanting to rush out and buy one (I hear they’re worth a whole $1 in the thrift store market these days), still works.  In fact, I still use it. Let’s do a quick run-down of it’s completely awesome features:



Yeah, you know you want one.  Other than a few sticky keys and some scratches, its held up remarkably well despite its age.  But there is one tiny effect of being so old that I must mention.  It’s loud.  And I don’t mean the alarm, I mean the clock itself.

Imagine yourself laying in the dark, trying to ignore the blinding lights of the Hobby Lobby that was build in your backyard last year, looking for a peaceful night’s rest, when coming from your nightstand is… HUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

Chris has put down a mandate.  We need a new clock.  One that isn’t louder than a freight train going past an demolition factory in a hailstorm.  And while I agree that the clock needs to go… what do I do with it?  I can’t possibly throw away the alarm clock that has been faithfully by my side for the past twenty-plus years!

Maybe the guest room?

The Best Time for Home Renovation

My husband has a twin brother, we call him Frick.  Together, they are Frick and Frack.



I have heard stories about what they were like as children.  I won't go into detail, but let's just say the phrase "double trouble" doesn't even begin to describe it.

Anyway, Frack's brother Frick (he's the one in the pink shirt... ahh hahaha) had a baby with his lovely lady, Yvonne, on the 31st.  (Yvonne is not her real name.  I don't think people are even named Yvonne anymore.)

Frick was also in the process of completing a home renovation.  With a pregnant Yvonne.  It was four days to baby, and the bedroom and the future baby's room needed paint, sanding, staining, varnishing, and trim.  And of course there were baby clothes to wash, bottles to sanitize, and hospital bags to pack.  There were sanders and saws going nonstop, family and friends running here and there, and dust covering every inch.  Furniture needed cleaning and arranging once the renovations were complete.  We decided that "Saint Yvonne" was a more apt title, as she sat calmly downstairs, away from the dust but still somehow in the midst of noise and chaos.

"How do you put up with all this?"  we asked her.
"Well," she replied, "I already tried yelling and that didn't work."

But before we knew it, there was a new precious little addition to the fam:



And, thanks to the hard work, dedication, and help of family and friends, Saint Yvonne and Brick (that's Baby Frick to you) came home from the hospital to a sparkling clean, fully-renovated house.  Completed just in the Frick... uh, I mean nick of time.