Tea Baggin', Dancin' and Shaunin'

It's Tuesday and I'm feeling random today. Get on board with Super Keely’s Tuesday’s Random Thoughts. If you're not doing it, you're doing it wrong. Here goes:

Yesterday, my morning Facebook status was Am I the only person who is actually a fan on Mondays? According to my friends that commented, apparently I am. I can't believe how rigorous you all are in your hatred for Mondays. Now, if we could all somehow channel that hatred into something a little more constructive, say like getting rid of pleated pants, well...then I could definitely see myself joining the bandwagon.

Speaking of bandwagons...

Today there is a Tea Bagger Express rally here in Utah. I'd really like to go if for no other reason than to get my face on Fox News and to tell the organizer folks that they should have googled the term "Tea Bagging" a little more thoroughly before they married themselves to the name. Come on people, urbandictionary.com is your friend. Use it.

Certain people have been asking me if I have given up my obsessive crush on Shaun White since I haven't talked about him for a while. Let me address those people directly:

No, Jeremy, I haven't given up on the ridiculous dream (your words, not mine) that Shaun White will stop by our house after a day of hittin' the half-pipe. I will also not give up hope that The Shaun will tell me I make the most delicious chicken curry casserole he's ever tasted and ask if he can move into our basement. It could happen. Think of the income supplementing possibilities here. I'm doing this for our family. Stop being so selfish, Jeremy.

Also, I fully recognize that "hittin' the half-pipe" sounds somewhat dirty, just like "tea bagging" did a few paragraphs ago. Believe me, the irony is not lost on me here.

Another also, this happened at work the other day during a moment of low-productivity.

Actually, this has happened many times during many days. My girl Jessica just happened to capture it on film.

I've wrangled Jeremy into watching Dancing With The Stars (DWTS) with me this season. Every time Evan Lysacek waltzes onto the stage (Get it? Waltzes?) I secretly hope that Evgeni Plushenko and his hipster mullet pirouettes in front of the camera and tries to claim victory over Evan on a reality television show. Not that I don't love The Evan, because, for the love of spray-tanner, I do. He's my pick this season, but I just can't resist beating that joke to death. At the very least, the Evgeni vs Evan DWTS drama would make for an awesome SNL skit.

Well, that's about all I have rattling around in my brain right now. I've been overwhelmed by trying to console Jeremy through the whole Sandra Bullock-Jessie James fiasco. See, besides Susie-Down-The-Street, Sandy is the other girl on his "Kitchen Pass" card for celebrity-neighbor hook-ups.

300

Here is the the second half of my 300th Post Extravaganza. Today, it's all about the ladies representin' and asking questions of me...

First up is Pamela from The Dayton Time. She and I first crossed paths over soap nuts. I kid you not. She quickly became one of my favorites. Pamela and her husband The Mister are making a run to be the next Jon and Heather Armstrong.

Pamela’s Question: I would like to know if you, yourself, have ever fried sausage in bacon grease?

My Answer: Honestly, reading this question, let alone envisioning the prospect, made me dry heave a little bit and caused my cholesterol to shoot through the roof. This also sounds dangerous. All I'm sayin' is I hope Pamela and The Mister were fully clothed when they attempted this culinary feat. I mean, think of the splatter in unfortunate places people.Tracy of Kaply, Inc. and I go back well over three years. She’s sarcastic, feisty and awesome all wrapped up in one hot package. She describes herself as witty, humorous and almost creepy. Honey, I couldn't agree more.

Tracy’s Question: What or who was it that made you start blogging? Did you read others before you began writing?

My Answer: Like everyone else, I set out to be a blogger because I heard it would clear up my skin and bring me instant fame and fortune. Sadly, only one of those things has happened since I began writing on the internet. I had no idea that I would find such a wonderful network of people whom I consider close friends even though some of us have never met face to face. Too bad, you should really see my skin up close. It’s soft and supple now, or as Henry calls it, “squishy”.

Jen of Blissfully Caffeinated and I found each other four years ago. She has given me friendship, joy, coupons and some questionable birthday greetings over that time period. If you ask her what I’ve given her, I’m sure she’d tell you that I’ve given her a complex and an unsightly rash.

Jen’s Question: Can I be your sister wife? Also? From one curly headed gal to another, what hair product/routine do you use to tame that mane? How did you and Jeremy meet?

My Answer: Phew! Jen sure is curious isn’t she? Well, I am always searching out additional sister wife. So, welcome aboard. Girlfriend, I look forward to braiding your hair after our delicious casserole dinner.

As for my hair? It’s simple. Minimal shampoos, maximum leave-in conditioners and I love, love my diffuser. I use an old jersey t-shirt to towel dry my hair so as to not break the natural curl pattern and I pray every night before bed to the picture I have of Diana Ross, the Patron Saint of Curly Hair, to have a good hair day the next day.

And as for how Jeremy and I met? Well, like most couples, we met at work when he caught me making multiple copies of Diana Ross’ picture on the office copier. In order to distract him, I asked him on a date to Lagoon (a local amusement park). He said Maybe. I laughed and said, No really, what time are we going? We ended up hitting it off and kept our “romance” a secret from everyone but a few people in management. When we mailed out our wedding announcements, I kid you not, most people at work thought it was a joke. They couldn’t understand what a quiet, intelligent guy like Jeremy was doing with a quirky, frizzy chick like me.

We had a massive turn out at our wedding from the office folks. I think they came just to see if Jeremy would actually go through with it.

Thank you to everyone who participated in my questions and thank you for reading me. It means more to me than you know.

299

Today marks my 299th post. Not very impressive if you count the fact that I've been blogging for 4 years. I wish I could say it's all about quality, not quantity, but who am I kidding? You've read my stuff. It's not quality.

I decided to call upon my oldest bloggy friends, the ones I first met on the interweb and asked them to help a sister out. I asked each blogger to send me a question, any question, and I would answer it on site to commemorate my 300th post milestone. As is typical, my responses are a bit wordy, so I've divided this post into two portions. The sacred 300 will be up later in the week.

1. The first question comes from one of my dearest friends, Captain Dumbass of Us and Them. He is the third blogger I ever commented on. The first person ignored me. The second person ignored me WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE. (I still haven’t gotten over that one.) But the Captain? He replied right back and the rest is history.

Captain’s Question: Are you now, or have you ever been a member of the Osmond family?

My Answer: All Utahans can either trace their lineage directly to an Osmond or they become what is known as a “Naturalized Osmond”. This event happens unknowingly when you cross the county line into Utah County, childhood home of Donny and Marie.

Of course, if you can directly trace your lineage to either side of the Osmond family (you’re either a little bit country or a little bit rock-n-roll), you are considered sort of pseudo royalty here in the land of Zion.

2. The amazing Kat of 3 Bedroom Bungalow was my first girl bloggy friend. I may have loved her too hard because she found it necessary to pick up her family and move across the pond to a foreign country to get away from me. Le Sigh.

Kat’s Question: What are the best and worst parts about living in Utah?

My Answer: I would say the worst part is the fact that it is still not legal to own a monkey or even transport a monkey in the state of Utah. But I hear the State Legislature is going to debate this soon in an upcoming joint session so, let’s hear it for the primates, people.

The best part of about living in Utah would have to be what I call the “3 Ms”; Mommy Bloggers, Mountains and, *fingers crossed*, one day, Monkeys.

3. During our first email correspondence, Jen Cohen, aka, Sprite’s Keeper, told me she didn’t think there was enough room for two Jen’s on the internet. In reality, she is the sweetest person out there.

Jen’s Question: If you had to give up one part of your body, appendage, organ, whatever, be creative! what would it be and how would you get along without it?

My Answer: I don’t think I could voluntarily give up any body part. I’ve got 20 pounds I’m looking to lose, but you can’t give those things away. Believe me, I’ve tried.

4. I found Jen Pompi of Oscarelli while stalking a very windy blog (you know the one). Her avatar picture and her witty comments over there caught my eye. I just had to be friends with her.

Oscarelli’s Question: What is the one thing that Steenky readers don't know about you that would surprise them?

My Answer: Remember my whole “I can’t dance very well” post where I graphically showed you that I couldn’t dance?

Well, that’s only partly true. Oh, I have the worse white girl overbite when I shake my money maker in da club, but I was actually quite an accomplished trained dancer in my younger years. I was involved ballet, jazz, tap, and gymnastics ages 4 thru 22. I competed in several national dance championships both individually and as part of a team. (My mom has a trophy wall!) After I finished my "dancing career", I went on to harshly judge both team and individual dance competitions. I hoped that my career as a judge would land me lucrative endorsements, or at the very least bribery money from desperate stage moms, but all I received was minimal compensation and the realization that when someone works gun fingers into a routine I will give you extra points every time.

So jazz hands? Yeah, I got wicked jazz hands.

Questions 5, 6 and 7 will be up later in the week. Thanks for tuning in even though I've been out for a little bit!

Most of All, I'll Miss the Flushing

Our office is in the middle of a huge, multi-phased move this week. Things are chaotic and highly stressful. Needless to say, the posting / commenting on my end with be minimal and almost nonexistent for the next little bit. For this, I apologize in advance.

If you’ve read Steenky Bee any length of time, you may already know that both Jeremy and I work in the architectural industry. Our firm is retrofitting an old abandoned Bally’s Fitness Center and redesigning it to be the highest rated sustainable building in Utah. (LEED Platinum rating)*. We’re talking minimal lighting and HVAC usage, so basically, I’ll be working in the dark, sweating and/or freezing (depending on the season) and fussing with low-flow toilets. (I think we can all collectively agree that no one likes public toilets. The only saving grace they offer is their powerful flushing prowess. Well, starting next week, I can kiss that perk goodbye.)

Besides the tragedies that are bound to happen in the new office rest rooms, the firm's management is extremely proud of our redesigned space and what it will mean for our sustainable design practice in the future. The employee's, however, are most proud of the fact that we now have an assigned space for the office ping-pong table. IS AWESOME.

Back to the move… Amidst all the moving bins, and riveting meetings on parking procedures and access card policy to our new building, I did find something that peaked my interest. For the past three weeks or so, employees have been encouraged to organize their desks and rid their personal space of any clutter.

The project managers of the move designated a table on the west side of our office for employees to place unwanted items that are still in reasonably good condition. Items on this table are free and up for grabs for anyone who wants them, first come-first serve.

Tuesday, I had just finished flushing the last of several incriminating documents down the industrial strength toilets (goodbye old friend) when I found a few extra minutes on my hands. I decided to browse the selection of unwanted items to see if I could give any of them a home. Boy, am I glad I did.

Witness the items free for the taking on the west side.

A flask. At work. IS ALSO AWESOME.

Now, I must go. They just announced a meeting to reveal the location of the parking spaces for the employees that drive a hybrid vehicle to work every day. (I told you we were being green.) No word on where the designated space for my bitchin’ Camaro will be. I'll keep you posted.

*Somewhere back east, Irish Gumbo is shedding a tear filled with pride.

Gettin' Fit and Gettin' Random

Today is reckoning day, the "Come to Casey" day. Every first Monday of the month I do two things; I treat myself to a meat lover's pizza and I post my fitness progress online for you all to read and for Casey to judge harshly.

(The meat lover’s pizza is to console myself after I do my post of shame. The greasy bits of meat and cheese are my friends.) So is the pizza delivery guy. Note to self: we order out pizza way to often.

But today, my friends, I come to you a changed woman. I have been exercising (what’s the opposite of religiously?)...fairly often. As of late, I have been getting up at 4:21 am to treadmill and lift weights with Jillian Michaels. She’s mean. She yells at me through the TV to stop being a whiner and just do it already. I love her.

Why do I get up at 4:21? Well, first of all, I think to get up at that time is high-larious. Second, I hit the snooze button a few times then I get up at the more reasonable, but less funny 4:42 am and do the fitness routine for about 50 minutes. I need to start so early because I have kids to get ready for school, a husband to nag into packing a lunch and then, of course, there is my very lengthy shower routine. Remember that?

If you want to join the fitness revolution, then get yourself that P90X thing everyone's talking about. I hear it works. If you want to join a community of supportive women striving to meet their fitness goals together then check out Casey's HASAY Challenge over at her site.

*Warning* Abrupt subject change ahead:

I know it’s only Monday, but I really want to participate in Super Keely’s Tuesday’s Random Thoughts. If you're not doing it, you're doing it wrong. I’m posting this an entire day early. I’m not only very random, but extremely overly prompt. Here goes:

Do people still wear skorts? I have no clue.

Are you people following @Badbanana on Twitter? If you’re not, you should be. Last week he posted this tweet and it made me laugh.

Are you people following @Gingela5 on Twitter? She tweets often about her dogs, her feet and the fact that she likes pineapple. She’s actually one of my favorite people to interact with on Twitter.

I’m going to BlogHER 2010. Oh joy! I’m super excited and nervous at the same time. Jenni at Oscarelli is one of the ladies in my super fun group and is really the brains behind the whole organizing of the hotel / lodging / rooming / gossiping about boys / matching outfits thing. The other day we were trading emails back and forth about getting all the ladies into a couple of rooms and this was the tail end of my email response to her:

“….I won't do any foot stomping if we need to shuffle bodies in rooms a bit. It’s well known that I'll sleep anywhere. (That rumor about me has been floating around since high school, anyway.) Bawahahaha!”

Okay, so that might only be funny to me. I promise it’s not true. The actual rumor floating around me in high school was that everyone I slept with said I screamed in my sleep. So...who's excited to room with me at BlogHer?

Oh Utah, They're Just Jealous of You

As a Utahan, I tend to think of my state as I would a sibling or a strange second-cousin. Oh, it's okay for me to tease her and give her a wedgie or two. I may, if the mood strikes, even tell her to go suck it. But if someone else comes along and picks on her? On my Utah? Oh NO. I am not trying to hear that noise.

According to our recent motto, Utah is “A pretty great state”. And? According to our license plates (which, by the way, check it - are off the hook) has the “Greatest snow on earth!” Take that, Colorado.
Our current state motto is “Life Elevated”, and while nobody here really knows, or cares what that means, as a state, we (read: I) have just sort of rolled with it and concentrated on more important things like becoming a reoccurring sister-wife on HBO’s Big Love or finding out exactly where Apolo Ohno lives.

Because, ladies (or gentleman – if that’s the way you roll, no judgment here, only love) Apolo most definitely DOES live in Utah for part of the year. I’ve seen him. I was close enough to smell him. More importantly, I was close enough for him to hear me when I whisper-screamed at my friend, “Oh. My. GAH! How does my hair look?” My friend, brutally honest as always, looked me over and just shrugged her shoulders and said, “Meh, it could be worse.”

Yes, Utah is a strange (liquor laws) and magical (see Ohno reference above) place, but we’ve given the world some pretty stellar things too. Take Mitt Romney’s hair, for example. Have you ever seen such an immaculate head suit on anyone besides Ronald Regan, who, by the way, is most definitely Mitt’s idol both politically and hair-wise? To the world I say, you’re welcome**.

*Spoiler Alert* Old Mitt up there is planning a run for president again and I, for one, can’t wait to sit and judge both him and Sarah Palin harshly on their coifs during the primaries. Just to make it fair, I will be equally critical of Joe Biden’s hair plugs, but not his face lift, because hasn’t it settled so nicely?

Recently, Salt Lake City was named to the top 8 most romantic cities in the US. Apparently, if you buy enough Barry White CDs or romance novels (read: Twilight), you’re considered somewhat of a Casanova in Amazon’s eyes.

Utah hosted the Winter Olympics, invented fry sauce, made jell-o into unearthly creations and for the love of Donny and Marie, we gave you the Osmonds. THE OSMONDS! Have you seen their teeth? Whiter than white and bigger than life, my friends.

So, internet, I guess in a way, I am confessing my love for my state. You may point your finger at us from afar and sit in judgment of our peculiar laws, but without us, ketchup and mayo would have never found themselves together in such a delicious and unholy union.

*Technically Mitt Romney is from Detroit, but we’ll go ahead and take one for the team on this one. You’ve got enough to worry about (General Motors.)

This post was thrown up here today as participation in the ever so lovely Sprite’s Keeper and her Spin Cycle on Confessions. If you aren’t part of it, you should be. If you haven't been to Utah, well you should. The sister-wives are hotter than you think.