Phenomal Cosmic Typing...Itty Bitty Post

    We're so close to 2011.  I had this long year in review post typed up.  It included several deeply personal and emotional stories of events that happened in 2010.  It's been a bit of a rough year, and I sort of let it all spill out.  In the end, though, I just couldn't make myself post it.  It was definitely cathartic to write it all out.  A few tears escaped down my cheeks in some parts.  I think it was such a relief to write it all because it helped me sort out my feelings about everything.  This has been a year of extremes.  I didn't think it was possible to feel both surrounded by love and completely alone in the same year.  I also didn't think it was possible to one day feel that the world was good, and the next day question my very understanding of life.  Sheer excitement and elation to sheer exhaustion, devastation and uncontrollable tears, this has been a year that I will never forget, for better or worse.  It did have the effect of bringing me with closer with people I have been missing from my life.  It also made crystal clear how dearly I value the people closest to me.  Mom and Dad, words can't express how much you mean to me.  I wouldn't be here without you.  You have made me the person I am today, and I wake everyday with the hope that I will continue to make you proud of the daughter you raised.  Extended family, who I have missed dearly, and have loved reconnecting with in recent years- I love you all so much and I am blessed to count you among family.  My dearest and nuttiest friends- you make my life GREAT!  I miss a lot of you every single day, and treasure every text, picture, and chat we get to share. 

I'm really looking forward to all 2011 has to offer.  I'm getting married!  I guess that means I should really start planning.  Here's to a GREAT year.  I know the universe has one stored in there.  :)

Here are some pics that I had in my original post-  bye bye!

This was taken when I still liked Shreveport.  That all changed after we watched the football equipment truck leave the stadium while we were still waiting for our Diamond Jack's shuttle.

"Well, today really is the day.  Will you marry me?....I love you!"

Snow Day Photo Shoot

We woke up this morning to a snow-covered downtown, with the wind blowing and the snow continuing to fall.  The temperature has hovered near single digits all day, but that didn't stop me from snapping some photos of the dogs playing in their favorite environment- a cold, snowy day.

I love them!

What I want....

Christmas in the form of presents isn't really going to be happening this year, what with Scott and I trying to save for the wedding, and trying to help my parents save for the wedding also, but that doesn't mean I can't make a list of what I want!  I was just surfing the interwebs today, and I thought "what would I want if I could have a huge Christmas?"  So here we go.

1. Mr. Coffee Frappe Maker

Does anyone have one of these? I got so excited when I saw it on a website, because I love frapps.  I've never been much of a hot coffee fan, and as such I am the one who gets stared at while ordering a frappucino when it's 4 degrees out. 

2. The iPad

Unlike some people, I've been on the Apple bandwagon for several years now.  While I was late to the iPod party, I've had one for quite a while, I'm typing this entry on a rundown, but still going strong white MacBook, and sure do heart my iPhone.  So, the next logical step is the iPad!

3. Guess Carrie Lee Stilettos

I'm a huge fan of pointy-toed stilettos, and I love shoes that are more fun than just your standard black or brown heels.  I saw these and loved them.  They're so shiny and fun.  They come in a few colors, including this pewter, gold, and purple sequined (that sounds even more fun). 

4. Guess Pharrout Boots

It wouldn't be winter without a new pair of boots!  

5. Coach Mia Signature Lurex Carryall

"I'm a serious young professional, but I'm not boring." That's what this bag says.  At least to me.  They had a few colors to choose from, and I'm not 100% sure what color I like best.

6. Volkswagen CC

 

I'm aware this item on my list is slightly out of the standard Christmas budget, but I'd be remiss if I didn't mention how much I like it.  Growing up, I always listed a Jetta as one of the things I wanted, on the off-chance I actually got one.  Then, one day, I bought my own.  I'm sure Jackie is making someone very happy now.  Anyway, I like this car because it's still a VW, but it's more practical for the person who's all grown up.  Plus, it comes in AWD, which can be fairly important here.

7. Rhinoplasty

 I don't know who this lady is, but her "before" nose looks a little like mine.  Mine is probably bigger and more bulbous head-on though.  Shout-out to my 4th grade friend Becky and my study-abroad classmate Aubrey for my two broken nose experiences.  Long story short, my nose isn't horrendous, but it would be nice to have completely clear airways.

So that's my little list.  Of course a Target gift card is always a good one.

In the holiday spirit...

I think it's safe to say it's officially Christmas time.  I started with the decorations a little before Thanksgiving, sneaking in a few things here and there so as not to overwhelm Scott.  He's one of the "no Christmas decorations until after Thanksgiving" people (I'll admit, for the most part I am too).  So, I wasn't allowed to put up the tree and lights until after Thursday.  But, I did manage to sneak in the door wreath and garland outside, and some garland lining the banister up the stairs.

It's beginning to look (somewhat) like Christmas!  Pardon the quality, the lighting in the hallway doesn't provide for the best iPhone pics.

It wouldn't officially be Christmas time without an embarrassing childhood story.  That's right- they're back.

In 5th grade, I had just moved to Texas, and I was getting used to my new school and all my new friends.  I had already had a slightly embarrassing moment in which I was reading a passage in front of the entire class, and I pronounced the city of Lubbock "Loo-Bock" because being from New York, I had never heard of Lubbock.  Everyone in class started snickering and Mrs. Johnson, whom the pre-pubescent boys dubbed "the hot teacher", kindly corrected me as my face turned beet red.  Then came Christmas time.

During one of our homeroom classes, our teacher told us to use our creative time to draw a picture that represented what we like about the holiday season.  It could be anything, from the Christmas tree, to presents, to sledding, etc.  I decided I was going to draw a Nutcracker, because I liked the play and the music.  We all go about our business with the construction paper and crayons, and I got to work drawing my Nutcracker.  I'm pretty sure I drew a traditional looking Nutcracker- nothing special.  It probably didn't even look like a Nutcracker because I was 10 and not that artistic.  Anyway, I decided to add a caption at the bottom of my picture.  This caption would become the source of much teasing and would result in me having to cut the caption off the bottom of my picture before it could be stapled to the "Holiday Wall" in our classroom.  Keep in mind, I was a total innocent at age 10.  I didn't know any sexual innuendos or phrases.  So I thought nothing of my caption at the bottom of my poorly drawn Nutcracker:

"Crack that Nut!"

Yep.  In fairness to me, I thought, well, that's sort of his job, right?  I had no idea the implications of my little quote could range from actual holiday nutcrackers to a gentleman breaking his testicle(s).  Anyway, when we had to present our pictures and what they meant to us, I held mine up.  Before I could even start speaking, most of the class burst into uncontrollable giggles.  This got the attention of the teacher, who was only half paying attention.  I looked around the room at the people laughing and at first, I assumed they were laughing at my attempt to draw a nutcracker.  I was thinking to myself "well yea it's probably not great but WE'RE TEN!"  The teacher came up and pulled me aside as she instructed someone else to share his picture.  She asked me what I meant by my caption, and I said "well that's what nutcrackers do right? " She just smiled at me, aware of my clueless innocence, and told me that we should probably cut off the caption before I put the picture on the holiday wall.  The damage was already done though, because every stupid 10-year-old guy spent the rest of the school year making clever jokes about hiding their balls.  Looking back on it, how DID they know that my caption could be construed that way?  What are parents teaching their kids?!  Ridiculous.  

And so begins the holiday season!  Cheers! 

I'm a bit behind.

My apologies to my five to tens of readers for my lack of posting lately.  November has been a busy time!  Lots of work, job hunting, the whole deal. 

I think I'm still in my Thanksgiving food coma.  I had THREE meals.  My parents came to town and Thursday afternoon we went to spend time with Scott's mom's side of the family.  That included a meal and snacks.  Then Thursday evening we went to Scott's dad and step-mom Diane's house for more sophisticated fare and what ended up being a classier version of a college party considering pretty much everyone got drunk.  It's better when you're getting toasty on wine and aged scotch over Keystone Light and Burnett Vodka right?  Anyway, it was a delightful evening that not all remember.  I was focused on the Aggie game so I managed to avoid most of the post-dinner alcohol.  Probably good for me since it seems to take me longer than most to get over an evening of drinking.  :) 

Then, Friday, amidst the backdrop of the ridiculously loud music and yelling from the d-bags next door, we had our small family Thanksgiving.  Speaking of, if the guys next door don't STFU, I'm going to lose it.  They've been here for two weeks and I already want to move.  I loved my loft until they moved in.  Hopefully we can work it out. 

Let's see, what has happened in the past month.  Cherry ate some stuff.  I bet you're shocked. 

She ate a lint-roller that day.  She tried to hide the remains of the lint-roller under the couch, but she neglected to take care of the sheets of sticky paper that were clinging to her legs.  Cherry fail.

Cherry also managed to run into a restaurant one night.  The bottom floor of our building is also a restaurant (Lucas Park Grille for those who care).  The door to Lucas Park Grille faces Washington Ave., and the door to our building faces the courtyard on 13th St., right around the corner.  But, the restaurant has a back door that opens into our lobby/elevator area.  The door is usually used by servers who prop it open while they run in to get a snack at the vending machine in our lobby.  Well that was happening one night when I came back in with the dogs.  I wasn't holding their leashes very tightly because it was a Thursday night around 10:45pm so I didn't think there would be much to worry about.  As we rounded the corner in the lobby to go to the elevator, a server walked out and propped the door open while he got a snack.  When he walked back, the door opened, and I guess Cherry saw that as her opportunity because she took off running towards the open door before I could stop her.  She ran into the restaurant and was greeting the servers in the back room by the time I got in there.  Awkward.  She's just a mess.

So Simple.

Anyway, there really hasn't been much else exciting me for these days.  I love that it's finally the holiday season.  The tree and lights are up!  I'll try to post pictures soon.  In the meantime, I'm off to surf the interwebs. 

My Beautiful Family

Check out this sweet pic of my dad, aunts, and uncles at my cousin Amy's wedding. 

Isn't it such a cool picture?  From right to left it's my dad (many of you know him as Chigger Chiggerito, and odds are he's 'liked' something on your Facebook- love you Dad!) ;), Aunt Diana, Uncle Gary, Aunt Barb, Aunt Andrea, and Uncle Jim.  The fam has been through quite a bit this year, so I'm really glad they all got to spend time together for a HAPPY reason.  I wish I could have been there and I hope we can have a little reunion next year when I get married.

Anyhoo, that's all I have to say.  Have a good night everyone!

Simple Cherry

Well I am back, and it's time for another rousing episode of Simple Cherry.

Truman had his vet appointment about a month ago, and last week was Cherry's turn.  Cherry must have known she was going to be subjected to an anal thermometer and a shot in her nostril because she decided to celebrate by eating a lamp and scattering hundreds of little craft popsicle sticks from the craft drawer all over the floor.  Good times for me to clean up.  I decided to worry about it later and we take off down the street to the vet.  The vet adventure started with Cherry knocking over a container of dog bones for sale as soon as we walked in the door.  The vet we go to is also a doggy daycare, groomer, and boutique, so she loves to see what kind of mess she can get into.  We got into the exam room, and I also had Truman with me because he was getting his ears checked.  So they started having a good time, and Cherry knocked over one of the dog skeleton jaws. Oops.  She then started eating it.  Never a dull moment.  Long story short, they're both completely healthy, and Truman even lost a pound!  If I was only 5 lbs away from my goal weight I'd cry with joy, but for him it's a crisis. 

Anyway, we start out for home and I decided to take them down a different street so we could stop off in the grassy patch for a quick pee break before I went back to work.  I get to the intersection, and even though I don't have a walk sign, there aren't any cars in the street and the nearest cars are several blocks down, so I figured I'd have time to cross before they got to us.  Well, I would have had plenty of time, but Cherry decided she couldn't wait to get to the grassy patch, and she drops her proverbial pants in the MIDDLE OF THE ROAD and just starts peeing.  Truman kept walking so I start getting pulled in two different directions.  I try tugging on Cherry's leash but she is dead set on emptying her entire bladder in the middle of the road at Locust and Tucker.  I'm not sure what she drank all morning, or if lamps have the magical power to turn into bladder liquid, but she was literally peeing GALLONS in the road, and nothing I was doing was going to make her start walking again.  About halfway through, all the cars that were tiny little fly-size specks down the street are now stopped at their green light watching my dog pee everywhere.  I was beyond mortified.  I tried waving like "ha isn't this funny" but the general consensus among the stopped cars was that no, it wasn't funny at all.  Their faces were a mix of disgust, exasperation, and flat out anger.  I guess I know what it's like to be trying to get places, but maybe I'm just such a dog lover because while in the midst of all this I just started laughing.  How can you not laugh?  Maybe you can't, but I did.  Sorry to all the drivers that were privy to my dog's potty habits. 


So, that was that.  And now I'm off.  Please treasure this post.  I know I will.

This is all so new!

This baseball in October thing has pretty much never happened in Dallas, but it seems like people are getting the hang of it pretty quickly.  The crowd shots don't feature morons wearing Cowboys jerseys like I would have expected.  People seem to have figured out how this works.  I never really cared about baseball until I moved to Missouri, where the people actually care about baseball.  No one really gives two craps about the Royals (except fireworks Fridays), and since the company I was in included some of the most avid Cardinal fans out there, the choice was easy.  The Cardinals are to St. Louis what the Cowboys are to Dallas.  Not just a team- a way of life.  So it was quite natural to get caught up in it.  In my 13 years of living in Dallas, I went to about 2 Ranger games.  BUT, I am a proud Native Texan and I am ON the bandwagon!  And this bandwagon is flying along.  I sure hope I don't fall off! 

The fall air is so crisp and has the faint hint of fireplace smoke.  I love it.  I have the window barely open, lest my cats get any daredevil ideas, but it's open enough to pick up the nice breeze that whips through the courtyard between the two buildings. 

There really isn't anything new to report.  It's almost Halloween and I haven't picked out any costume ideas.  I did decorate.  I just don't have the energy to go looking for a ridiculously overpriced and poorly made costume.  Perhaps I will make my own?  I'm such a seamstress *sarcasm*.  To date this is probably one of my more involved costumes:

The picture was taken on a leisurely stroll from O'Bannon's to Dry Bean around 11pm, but if you look closely you can see an over-the-top Marie Antoinette next to Douglas the sex crusader and Spiderman.  No that's not my hair.  Anyway, that was about as creative as I got.  So any ideas would be appreciated.  I don't even know if I'm DOING anything for Halloween, but I would hate to be unprepared.  

Anyway, I'm off for now.  This was wildly entertaining, I know.  I know how to keep an audience coming back for more.  I leave you with Truman and his "stick."

He was so agile with this thing, bumping into shit and trying to carry it, but essentially just dragging it along.  Whatever keeps him happy.

Wedding Bells

Two posts in one day!  How rebellious I am!  I actually typed that other post a few days ago and just now posted it.  So, it's not really that scandalous.


Anyway, I went to a wedding yesterday.  When I first got engaged, I was in excited planning mode, and booked all the venues pretty much immediately.  Then, the bar exam happened and I started working all the time, so I haven't been as aggressive in planning for quite some time.  To be honest, the majority of the stuff I have to plan doesn't really get my creative juices flowing (as I've said before, I don't get excited by napkin designs, chairback ties, or menu styles).  Because of that, I had started to wish I hadn't booked anything, and instead we were just going to go on a super honeymoon with a quick courthouse wedding.  But, the wedding yesterday rekindled my interest in actually planning a wedding.  I still don't care about some of the supremely OCD details, but I am excited to revisit some of the ideas I found back when I first got engaged.  So I figured I'd share some of what I like.  I promise not to bombard you with post after post about weddings.  Every now and then I just want to post some stuff I like.  So, here goes:

The ceremony venue is the Jewel Box in St. Louis.  It was built in 1936, renovated a few years ago, and it's on the National Historic Register.

We sneaked in while they were setting up for a wedding to see what it looked like with chairs.  I like!

I like it because I think it's a pretty unique venue, and it has a pretty rich history in St. Louis.  That and there are beautiful flowers blooming year-round both inside the building and outside.  Well, they probably don't bloom in the dead of winter, but pretty close to year-round.   We went this year towards the end of August to see what it looked like, and I was impressed.  Even better that the greenery and flowers on the inside have some pink accents to them, matching the pink accents I want in my colors.

The reception is going to be at Windows on Washington in downtown St. Louis.  It's just a few blocks from our loft.  I was unaware of it's popularity when we booked it, but everytime I tell someone where our reception is they have great things to say about it.  So yay. 

 

This is our reception room.  It's on the top floor, and we have the whole floor to ourselves (no sharing bathrooms!)

When we took these pics, they were setting up for another event.

Once you book the venue, you don't have to pay extra depending on the room you choose; price is all based on the package you pick.  So we chose the top floor room because we loved the high ceilings.  The room seats up to 350 I believe.  Obviously our wedding will be nowhere near that big, but it will be nice to be able to spread out the tables a little bit, and give the room a more open feel.  

So now to the colors:

 

I love this color combination with the green and black.  I actually found a great deal on table overlays with a black and white damask table runner, and I ordered a sample to see what they looked like, and I was impressed! 

 This is way more pink than I want, but I just wanted to show the green/black/pink combo that I'm looking for.  The majority will be green and black, but I plan to use pops of hot pink in things like the flowers, and some small decorations here and there.

I like these wedding dresses because they are unique and they aren't too formal for a summer wedding with fun colors and a light, happy theme.  I really like the bottom one.

 

I LOVE the cake in the middle row on the far right.  It's simple and it's exactly what I'm looking for.  Square tiers with a black ribbon around the bottom of each tier, simple off-white icing (maybe with a pattern like the one in the pic), and then accented with fresh pink and green flowers.   

I saw this at Sam Moon online, and thought it would be a cute idea to go in the bridesmaids' hair or something.  I think I want to do black dresses for them, but accent that with some green and pink jewelry or hair accessories (maybe even fun shoes!)

Speaking of fun shoes:

Obviously it's highly unlikely that I'll be wearing Louboutins, but I like the idea of wearing some fun pink shoes with my wedding dress, and maybe I'll get a pink hair clip similar to the green one above to wear at the reception.

Anyway, those are my ideas so far.  If you have any good ones, pass them along, because I rarely remember important details!  Have a good day everyone :)

Canine Fight Club

Ok, so I'm aware that this blog is starting to look a lot more like Marley and Me than it is a blog about anything else.  Unfortunately, however, at this point in my life most of the "exciting" things that happen to me revolve around my animals.  On any given day, I wake up, take them out, get ready for work, go to work, work while daydreaming about the TiVo I'll get to watch that night, come home, take them out again, and proceed to drown my nightly boredom away with a glass of wine and said TiVo.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my job, and every week there is a new fire for me to put out, which keeps me on my toes. That being said, work tales are those "you had to be there"-type stories to begin with.  Add to the fact that I do a lot of work that I can't really talk about and there's just not much to say.  So, being that work and the dog park take up the vast majority of my day, you're left with dog park.  Deal with it.  My blog, my rules.

Now I know the first rule of canine fight club is that you don't talk about canine fight club, but I'm going to.  Again, it's my blog suckas.

Anyway, today I take them to the park like any other day.  It's pretty packed once again.  Everyone is playing and having a good time.  There is this little wirehaired fox terrier there that has a bit of Napoleon syndrome.  He's being a jerk to all the bigger dogs, trying to prove his worth or whatever.  At first I don't really notice him; but then he starts bugging Truman.  At one point he latches on to the fur around Truman's throat, and when Truman whips his head the little shit goes flying off with a tuft of fur in Truman's mouth.  Truman is so docile that he just goes about his day trying to avoid the little terror. 

While this is going on, Cherry is having a good time chasing the tennis ball with a few other dogs, and they all take turns tackling one another.  They're all running around, tails wagging, having some good old fashioned dog park fun.  Cherry winds up with the ball and lays down to relax.  She likes to protect the ball, and will roll around with it in her mouth, or put her paw on it to shield it.  Anyway, she's just laying there when little terror comes up and tries to get it from her.  At first he just stands there staring at her, and Cherry's tail starts wagging like they're about to play.  Then the little terror starts growling, and Cherry's tail stops and she looks at him in alarm.  Before I can stop them, the little terror unleashes an angry bark, and lunges at Cherry's face.  Cherry can handle quite a bit of nagging from other dogs, and for the most part, she likes wrestling, but this dog really pissed her off, and she responded by losing it.  She gets up and attacks him right back.  It's a mess of tails, legs, and angry growls.  While I'm trying to get over there, the other owner is just WATCHING, like an asshole.  I finally grab Cherry's tail and pull her away and the little terror keeps coming at her, so I essentially have to kick him away.  Without a word, the little terror's crappy owner leashes him up, and they silently leave the park.  After he's gone, another owner is the first to break the silence by saying that the little terror was a mean and improperly socialized dog and his owner should know not to let him around other dogs.  Everyone pretty much agreed that Cherry could have killed him if she wanted to.  I'm glad it didn't get that far.  As an owner of bigger dogs, it's my responsibility to make sure they play safely and don't get out of hand.  I can't stop Cherry from defending herself when she's attacked, but the hard part comes in making sure she doesn't hurt anyone because some small dog is stupid enough to pick a fight with a giant.  It's the stupid dog's fault, but if he gets hurt because he attacked my dog, that's on me. 

So anyway, Cherry is officially a badass, or something.  I don't condone doggy violence, but I can't stop her from defending herself when she gets face-murdered.  Fortunately no one got hurt and I hope I don't see that little crap dog there anymore. 

The Bird and the Window

So, as many of you know (but some may not), I have a veritable zoo living with me.  For those that aren't familiar with the cast of true characters that I share my residence with, here is a rundown:

 

Evie.  My "first born."  She's actually a month younger than Truman but I had her first so she is my first born.  Anyway, she likes eating, getting in your business, and judging you.

 

Truman.  The real first born.  He likes playing games, sitting on your feet, chasing Cherry, and rocking the 80's denim jacket.

 

Shelby.  Consistently voted least favorite because of her tendency to be ridiculously obnoxious.  She does, however, entertain with her constant desire to chase the dogs' tails around the house and her propensity to do back-flips for a feather.  She has dreaded middle child syndrome and as such she requires constant attention and affirmation.

Cherry.  The baby.  The runt.  She certainly has a few screws loose, and she has been quite the adventure to raise.  She enjoys chasing anything, eating anything, and taking naps in really weird positions.  

So, there they are.  From now on when I tell stories about my zoo, you'll know who I'm talking about.  Yesterday was a beautiful day in St. Louis.  It was sunny and the temperature was in the low to mid 60s.  I decided it was a perfect day to open the windows of our loft.  Sadly, we don't have screens on our windows, so I was really careful to only open the window enough where the breeze could come in, but not enough where an animal could cause a problem.  So I thought.  

I go about my business and glance over to the window, and Evie is OUTSIDE on the ledge.  Six stories up.  I thought for sure her fatty butt couldn't squeeze through, but there she was.  I almost had a heart attack.  Meanwhile, she's just walking back and forth across the 4-inch wide ledge like it's no big deal.  I yell "Evie!!!" (not thinking about the possibility of startling her and sending her plummeting to her death) and she just looks at me with her usual judgmental scowl like "is there a problem?"  I run over to the window to help her in and she just squeezes right back through the window no problem.  My cat cheated death!

And then, there was today.  I get off work and get home to take the pups to the park.  The park is right across the street from our building, so it's an easy walk.  We get all leashed up and head over.  The park is pretty busy, which I like, because it means the dogs will actually run instead of chewing on random sticks.  Well when we've been there for a few minutes, I look over and see a flailing pigeon across the park.  My reflexes are too slow as ALL the other dogs in the park have already noticed this too.  They're all poking at it prancing around it.  Then here comes Cherry.  Of course, out of ALL the dogs at the park, MY dog would be the one to actually go there. Before I can stop her, she's got the flailing bird firmly gripped in her jaws and she's trotting around the park with extreme pride in herself.  I pick up my pace to catch her and at that she takes off running.  

Whee look at me!  This is so awesome I can't believe I really got a bird!

Truman, who has been idly watching this whole scene unfold, suddenly takes off after Cherry.  All the other dogs follow in quick succession, and I'm left to chase the ringleader of this entire bird fiasco as she plays keep-away.  The other owners call off their dogs, most of whom listen.  But not mine.  She's transfixed on this creature in her mouth and she's not about to let it go.  So, I continue to chase her, trying to corner her, while Truman happily barks and the other owners leash up their dogs to minimize the madness.  I reach out to grab at anything and I get a wing.  Because I was expecting fur and not feathers, I shriek and let go before I'm left holding JUST a wing.  Cherry takes off again, tail wagging as if this disaster is all some fantastic game and I purposely placed the wounded bird in there for her.  By this point I'm mortified because every other dog has calmed down on their leash and the other owners are either (a) similarly mortified, (b) LAUGHING, or (c) judging me for being unable to catch my dog.  I can feel my excuses flowing out of my mouth like verbal diarrhea..."well, she is a retriever"..."she's still kind of a puppy"..."she likes to run!"  But, I mean when you think about it, all of those are true.  She is a retriever.  Retrieving things is in her blood (nevermind that she didn't actually retrieve it, she ran around it with it)!  Obviously all the other "retrievers" at the park are shitty at their job...right?  

Anyway, after a few minutes of sheer chaos I manage to catch her and release the bird from her vice grip. At this point the bird is just sitting there flapping like a moron and we all have no idea what to do.  Suddenly, this pigeon whisperer homeless guy comes in and gently picks it up and hums to it as he escorts it to safety outside the park fence.  I'm pretty sure the bird needs to be...eliminated.  He's obviously gravely injured.  

After that, the madness slowly died down.  Some owners laughed; some left immediately.  The immediate leavers need to remove the stick from their ass.  I'm sorry my dog ran around with a flapping mad, near dead pigeon in her mouth.  These things happen.  She was quite pleased with herself, and being the good Mom I am, I love to see her boost her self-esteem.  

Anyway.  That was that.  Time to go meet sweet little baby Holden!

When being sworn in, you should probably recite the oath correctly.

Hello, loyal blog readers!  PS, tell your friends about my blog if you want, and I can invite them to read.  We can start a whole grassroots movement for ME!  It's brilliant.

Well, yesterday I was sworn in, and I am now a licensed attorney in the state of Missouri.  It was a long day for me.  The ceremony was in Jeff City, which is about 2 hours from downtown St. Louis, give or take depending on traffic.  I, of course, got the very first registration time- at 7:45AM.  If you're even minimally capable of doing math, you know that means I had to leave my house very early.  I woke up around 4:30, a time of day that I'm not very familiar with and hope to never become familiar with.  I left downtown around 5:15 and it immediately starting raining.  I love rain, but not when I'm driving in it, because that means that the normally slow-moving drivers in St. Louis go even slower.  It was all good though, because when I got about 50 miles from St. Louis, I was able to pick up the Kidd Kraddick feed from the station in Columbia.  Victory!

I got to Jeff City around 7:20, checked in, and then had an hour to waste because my ceremony wasn't until 9:20.  So I wandered the delightful streets of downtown Jeff.  I'm of course being sarcastic, because Jeff has one cute street.  The rest is just...there.  FINALLY, my seating time came.  I went through security, signed the Roll of Attorneys (this GIANT book everyone signs.  I'm sure it dates back to the dawn of lawyer time in Missouri), and went to the courtroom.  Apparently, even though I walked into the building when I was told to, I was late.  When I walked upstairs a guy approached me and asked "are you Nicole?"  I told him I was, to which he replied "oh, they're looking for you."  What?!  I wasn't even late.  Whatever.  So I had to make the walk of shame in front of everyone who was already seated.  At least I got there before it actually started.  Then the ceremony started.  For all the hoopla with getting up early, driving two hours, and then waiting some more, the ceremony lasted about 20 minutes.  The Chief Justice of the Missouri Supreme Court made some remarks, and there was a motion for admission, which was seconded and then sustained.  And then we all had to recite the oath together.  There were written oaths on our seats, so we just had to read from it.  As the Chief Justice started, we all joined in.  We were reading along and got to the word artifice, and the guy next to me mispronounced it.  And then stumbled trying to fix it while we all kept going, so for the rest of the oath he had no idea where we were and was just mumbling words like you do when you're trying to sing a song and don't know the lyrics. "Law...constitution...mahrumm....watermelon."  It's pronounced "arti-fiss" but he said "artif-ICE" (like frozen water).  And then he looked shocked that everyone else said it differently.  Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I think if you're going to be an attorney, you should have a better than normal grip on the English language.  I'll even go as far as to say superior.  He tried to play it off afterwards by saying that he had looked up and lost his place.  Whatever dude!


After the short-ceremony, I didn't stay for the reception.  I was already tired and wanted home!  I got back, went to lunch with Scott, and then I had to take Truman to the vet for his ear infection.  Let me start by saying that I don't usually like taking animals to the vet, because I feel like the vet is looking down on me for anything that might be wrong with my pet.  And they always make a million different suggestions about things I SHOULD do, or services I NEED.  They make it sound so dreary. 


So, after I waited for about 25 minutes past my appointment time in the stuffy, animal smelling exam room, the vet finally came in.  I explained to her that we had tried cleaning his ears a few times and at first we thought it was just dirt from his new surroundings but we figured it was more so we brought him in.  LIKE GOOD PET OWNERS.  She looked into his ear and made a face that was a mix of shock and disgust and then she goes "Oh my."  Well duh lady, that's why we're here.  She then goes on to tell me how Truman is overweight, and that could lead to severe health problems later on.  Basically telling me my dog was going to die a traumatic death.  Again with the doom and gloom.  For the record, Truman is 111 lbs.  His ideal weight is about 105.  So, yes I agree he needs to lose a few pounds, but he's a healthy boy.  He's not a giant sausage with legs.


Then she starts running down the list of "recommended" vaccinations. Including the doggy flu shot.  I shit you not.  She starts talking about the effect of the weather on dog immune systems, and how just like humans they can be more susceptible during certain times of year.  I'm sitting there thinking to myself "Bernese Mountain Dogs are bred to live in the SNOW OF SWITZERLAND."  I think his immune system can handle the natural flu triggers.  Then she suggested the doggy Lyme disease shot.  This is apparently for dogs who go into the wild a lot- camping trips with their owners, hikes, etc.  Truman doesn't even like to step on wet grass.  I don't think we'll see him scaling a mountain anytime soon.


Then, to top it off, she says he has tartar, and recommends a full teeth cleaning and scaling.  He's not even 3 and his teeth are fine.  My family's 14-year-old Bichon JUST had her teeth fully cleaned last year.  He could probably use a greenie or two, but everyone has tartar- get over it!  I'm not going to spend 700+ dollars for you to sedate my dog and clean his teeth, when we can do at-home stuff to fix it.  I know that's extremely disappointing to the money machine that is the vet's office, but she'll survive. 


Anyway, $200 and a few vaccines and ear medicine later, he's as good as new.  He did not enjoy the ear cleaning, and he hates the ear medicine dropper that gets stuck way down in his ears, so it's always a good time wrestling with him. 

I think I'll go to Target now.  Farewell for now.

Things I'm Afraid Of

I had a near-death experience today with an elevator, which reminded me of a lot of stuff that I'm terrified of.

Ok, so when I say near-death experience, I MIGHT be exaggerating.  I was getting onto the elevator when the doors started to close, and I panicked.  In my imagination the doors were closing on me, either crushing me or trapping and holding me as I am killed when the elevator starts to move.  In reality, the sensors stopped the doors, and they opened back up to let me on.  My deep-seated fear of elevator doors comes from this story:

OMG

Ever since I read about this I've been convinced that any elevator whose doors come close to shutting on me is going to decapitate me.  I think this fear is legit, given the circumstances surrounding that poor guy's untimely demise.  Because of that, anytime the elevator doors start to close anywhere near me, I start making nervous whimpering noises and use my cat-like reflexes.  I did this today, and instead of gliding gracefully into the elevator, my heel got stuck in the crevice between the floor and the elevator, sending me awkwardly tumbling towards the unsuspecting man who was already standing inside.  I'm also pretty sure the security guard who watches the footage could be heard laughing from his post in the lobby.  Whatever, safety is my number one goal. 

I'm also afraid of the grates in the sidewalk.  This is for two reasons.  One, I'm convinced that I'll step on a bad one and I will fall through into the underworld.  I don't even know what goes on down there, but I remember in a movie that there was this giant alligator that lived in the underground city sewers, so therefore that is real and happens in every city.  The second reason I'm afraid of them is the high probability that I will get a heel stuck and fall face first onto the sidewalk (it's a reasonable fear, considering that combined with my fear of elevator doors, this has happened).  Long story short, I don't want to get eaten by an alligator, and I want to avoid any situation that puts me at a high probability of making an ass of myself.


Anyway, that's all I can think of for now.  Solid entry I know.  I'm practically a Pulitzer winner over here.

A dose of reality...

Sometimes we're all guilty of getting caught up in what's going on in our own lives, we forget about what our life means in the grand scheme of things.  Yep, that's right.  I'm going serious on everyone tonight.  It's really easy for me to lament my misfortunes and challenges in my life, because it's my perspective and my definition of good and bad is based on the parameters set by my lifestyle and upbringing.  When I was nosedeep in books, or when I worry about my future, it seems like the most important thing happening.  That being said, sometimes it's good for me to get a healthy dose of reality.

I'm blessed.  No, I didn't grow up living in a mansion and my first car wasn't a Mercedes (RIP Party Prizm...with your two A/C knobs, requiring the removal of one to use on the knobless A/C control), but I never knew I was missing out.  My parents (the best in the world) made sure I had everything I could possibly need to thrive.  I didn't care that my playhouse was made out of a giant wardrobe box.  My dad cut a door and window shutters in that thing, and I was set.  I never missed out.  And even today, I might not yet be living the highroller life I imagined when I started law school (thanks economy!), but overall I'm surviving.  I live in a great place, and I have the whole world ahead of me.  It's easy to get caught up in the negative, but sometimes all it takes is a walk in the park to really remember what fortunes I do have.

Everyday in the park there are a variety of homeless people that come and go.  Sometimes they hang out on benches; sometimes they just go for walks.  When I first moved here, they made me nervous because they were part of the unknown.  Now they make me feel safe.  Granted some are probably sex offenders (I've looked it up and a vast majority in my zipcode are listed as homeless), but most are just people that have fallen on hard times and are making the best of it.  One in particular has really had an impact on me.  He is an older guy who often brings his little dog to the park.  His dog is this cute black dog that's well-nourished and not missing out on anything.  If anything she's well-taken care of, getting to go to the park all the time.  Everyday, this man brings his dog to the park, and he watches her as he sits on a bench.  His soft eyes have a quiet wisdom behind them, and the laugh lines that cross his face silently tell his story.  He never frowns, and no matter what, he always has one eye on his beloved dog.  I've never had a lengthy conversation with him, but when I do, there is so much I want to know.  People like him make me wish I could do more.  I've already promised myself that I'll never forget where I came from, and I'll never forget how fortunate I truly am, but it's people like him that will make sure I keep my promise.  It would be so easy for him to turn inward, and stumble along through the confusion and despair of living without.  But he doesn't.  He smiles everyday, and even on my worst days his quiet happiness and love for his dog make me stop and watch.  And when I do watch I can't help but smile too. 

On a different, but equally important note, I want to send a quick shout out to everyone who has believed in me all these years.  Thank you to my parents as always, who have made me their world since I was barely a plan for their future.  Thank you to my family, who have always supported me, even though we're separated by time zones.  Thank you to all my friends, who have always made me feel like a rock-star, and never doubted me, even when I doubted myself.  And even though he doesn't read this, I have to thank my love, who never fails to tell me and show me how much I mean to him.  If you DO read this, never doubt that the feeling is mutual.  Look out for us, because we're going to take on the world together.

Anyway, that wraps up my serious side.  Back to the regular programming.

I tried to get into someone else's car today.  A Jeep Libby that looked a lot like George.  The disconcerting part of this whole event is that a) I've done this before.  I tried to get into a grey Jetta a few years ago, failing to notice the BABY SEAT in the back, and b) my Jeep has some distinguishing features that you'd think I would notice.  Like, for instance, the fact that my Jeep has New Mexico plates.  Or the fact that my Jeep has an A&M and a Mizzou emblem on the back.  Or, perhaps the most obvious, the fact that my Jeep is BLUE, not BLACK.  "Wow Nikki, how do you not notice that this car isn't even the right color?"  I don't know, but if I were to pick an excuse, I'd go with the dimly lit garage.  Also curious about this situation is that I got off the elevator on a completely wrong floor of the garage and had no idea.  So when I discovered that I was essentially attempting grand theft auto, I panicked while frantically looking around for my own car.  I started pressing the lock button to hear the horn honk, and was baffled when it was coming from the floor below mine.  Sigh.  Some things never change.

And now, I've exhausted all my creative juices for the day.  So I bid you adieu, leaving you with the pic of the day.

Aww look at her go!

I've been doing this for over half my life...

What you might wonder?  Watching Brett Favre play football.  Including right now.  He hasn't thrown an interception yet, because, well, he hasn't thrown the ball yet. 

So, how are we all?  I'm doing just dandy. I went to Target yesterday because I got a giftcard as a belated graduation present, and I needed a few things.  I walk up to the checkout counter (with the "I'm open" light on), and set my items on the conveyor belt.  The cashier finishes with the guy in front of me and then she turns to me with a look of pure annoyance on her face.  She simultaneously switches off her lane light and begins this conversation:

Her:  I'm closed.
Me: (pause) I just walked up and your light was on.
Her:  Well it ain't anymore and I'm closed.
Me: (with a curious expression on my face) It didn't even blink to let me know you were about to close.  You just turned it off right now.
Her: Yea because I just decided to close my lane.
Me: I have 3 items.  You can't just ring me up really quickly?
Her: No.  I'm closed.
Me: ....but you were just open?  And then you just decided on a whim to close.
Her:  Yep.
Me: Ok, I just wanted to make sure I had your inexplicable actions straight.

At this point I'm starting to get fairly irritated that she can't take the less than 2 minutes to ring up my chapstick, binder, and shampoo.  She then CALLS OVER the manager to complain that I'm being unruly.  Are you serious?!  Yes, I am serious.  I calmly explain what actually happened to the manager as Cashier McPanties-in-a-Wad rolls her eyes and tries to interrupt me.  Finally the manager leads me to an open lane, to which I ask her if this cashier is also going to make up her own schedule, and she assures me that the new cashier won't.  And I go on my way.  I'm still not sure what happened in there, but I do know that I got my chapstick, binder, and shampoo home safely.

Let's see, what else.  Ah, yes.  The blood drive.  They had a blood drive at work a few weeks ago, except unlike the blood drives at the law school, this one didn't happen in the middle of a common area.  They did the actual drive on the Red Cross mobile lab outside the office.  Yet somehow, the office STILL managed to smell like blood drive.  The scent makes me nauseous.  And the thought of being stabbed and drained makes me slightly light-headed.  I admire and praise people that donate their blood.  My dad is one of them.  Every time he can, he does.  And it doesn't even phase him.  I pass out.  Literally.  I have to be near cool wet cloths and orange juice/crackers every time I need a shot or blood test at the doctor.  I'm pretty sure that during a TB skin test the bubble in my skin made me faint on sight.  I just can't do it.  If there is every anyone I know specifically that needs my blood, I wouldn't hesitate, but I just can't do it for fun. 

Anyway, so the whole office smells like blood drive.  Latex, and blood...matter.  I can't really explain what exactly the smell is, but it's very distinct.  And then, somehow the blood drive smell infiltrated the air vents in my car, and EVERY TIME the air is running now it spews out blood drive odors into my car.  And this was weeks ago!  I don't get it.  I can't escape it. 

I suppose I'll finish with a count of things Cherry has eaten lately.

1. A dead bird off the sidewalk (she didn't eat it, but she really tried, necessitating me actually prying it from her mouth).

2. A frisbee.

3. Clothes hangers.  I don't even know where she got them.

4. My clothes.

5. Scott's contact case.

6. My almost-empty old shampoo bottle.  (???)  She actually walked INTO the shower to get this, took it to the guest bed, and went to town.

7. Cat litter.

8. The stuffing from one of her massacred toys.

9. Another pen.

10.  Truman's fur...that she pulled from his body while playing tug-o-war with his tail.


So, there you have it.  Have a good night everyone!

Holy crap it's September?!

Wow.  Time flies, does it not?

I'm getting married in less than a year (cue coos and "aww"s).  I'm the antithesis of bridezilla.  The thought of all that planning and detail sort of makes my head hurt.  I apologize to those who thrive on deciding whether the napkins should be folded like a pocket or an origami bird, but thats' not me.  And chair-back ties?!  Who in the world decided that there should be 1736482991 ways to TIE A BOW on the back of a chair?!  That's just ridiculous.  Just make a bow.  Or a knot.  Or wrap it around the chair straight-jacket style.  I don't care.  Just point me to the food and the cocktails.  And the cake.  I like cake.  Speaking of cakes, I came across this atrocity a while back and then saw it again today in one of my picture folders:

Are you serious?  When I see this cake, I think of Easter Bunny vomit.  And murdered flowers.  It honestly looks like an old disastrous bedroom/bathroom color palette I had in Frisco.  Add in yellow and you've got the "Clown Puke Display" (as my dad liked to call it.  He obviously wasn't a fan).

Anyway, what else.  Ah, yes, I'm brainstorming a novel.  Any ideas would be appreciated.  I hope to make it as a best-selling author as a back-up plan to my dreams of being an attorney.  It's good to have options.

Short entry, I know, but I'm tired.  Night!

Air Delivery

Every now and then, I like to throw in childhood stories, to keep you guys on your toes.

So, as I've said before, my family moved to Ontario, NY when I was about 7.  After getting over my initial despair and disgust about the desk and bus-boarding situation (see "Meltdown in Ontario"), I settled into a nice little life there.  Part of my excitement stemmed from having my own bathroom for the first time ever.  And because it was my first bathroom, my parents gave me free reign to choose all the fixtures and colors.  That was a terrible choice on their part, because when we moved I was in the middle of my "I love pink" phase.  And not cute pink either.  As a result, we ended up with a bathroom that included a sink, toilet, and bathtub that all resembled Barbie's vomit.  I guarantee if we had stayed there longer than 3 years I would have insisted, and thrown an only-child tantrum, to have those changed.  But, at the time, I was in love.  I also happened to have the only bathtub in the house.  The other two bathrooms only had shower stalls.  NY didn't do Texas-style master baths in those days.  So, I would charge my mom to use the bathtub. I was a savvy businesswoman even then.  Now, before you go all "wtf?!" and call me terrible for charging my mom to use something she and my dad paid for, it was her idea.  Everytime she wanted to take a bath, she paid me something like a nickel.  I don't understand how I never got rich that way.  I should have played my cards better, I wouldn't even need a job now!

Another hobby of mine was riding my bike.  My bike with the HANDLE BAR brake.  Not the slam your feet backwards, child bicycle.  This thing was amazing.  The pads on the bike were purple, with neon yellow lightning bolts all over them.  Slick.  You probably think I took that bad boy off-roading, and raced cars through the neighborhood.  Well, you'd be wrong.  Instead, I liked to pretend I was a mail-lady.  Yes.  You read that right.  I liked to ride my bike down the street, stopping at every person's mailbox, and pretend to give them mail.  After I did this a few times, I got the mail handling lecture from my dad.  He warned me to never actually touch the mailbox or whatever was inside, because that was a felony.  I had NO idea what a felony was at the time, but I certainly didn't want to go to jail.  I was only a wee lass!  So, to make my hobby even more lame, I didn't actually deliver anything to my neighbors, or touch anything.  I just stopped in front of their mailbox and made delivery motions in the air.  I even had friends that did this with me.  We'd split up the neighborhood and then make small talk like adults do when they run into one another out and about.  Don't you wish you had been part of this?

During one of my many mail delivery air-motion sessions, I was coming up on a house, and I was super excited about their fake delivery.  That day, they were getting a giant air box, and even though I made this whole thing up, in my game I didn't know what was in the box.  I was just excited to deliver it.  Anyway, I got distracted on my mail-truck phone (probably one of those crappy grocery store "cell phones" that used to be popular until kids actually started using real cell phones), and before I knew it, I was flying end-over-end through mid-air, landing in someone's front yard.  I had actually plowed into someone's mailbox, flew off my bicycle, and came to a stop some 10 feet away in their grass.  The mailbox post snapped in half (wooden post, not brick mailboxes), and was laying on the sidewalk next to me.  I FLIPPED OUT.  Having remembered my dad's warning about touching the mailboxes, I was convinced I was a felon.  I still didn't know what that meant, but I was certain I was going to jail.  Imagining being in a cell with dirty drug dealers and murderers, I burst into tears.  (Obviously, in my mind, ALL criminals were kept together.  Murderers with mailbox felons).  With no other ideas, and terrified of being detained by the neighbors while they waited for the police, I got on my bike and raced home, running into the house sobbing.  I might have even begged my dad to keep me out of jail.  And then ensued what was I'm sure ANOTHER embarrassing conversation between my dad and someone on account of something I did and/or wanted.  We went back to their house where we knocked on the door.

Neighbor:  Yes?
Dad: Hello, we live down on Centennial.  I'm not sure if you've noticed, but your mailbox is, um, a bit messed up.
Neighbor (looks around us into the yard): Oh my God, what happened?!
(Dad looks at me)
Me (sniffling): I hit it with my bike.
Neighbor: I'm sorry?
Dad:  She was...."delivering mail" (I don't know if he made air-quotes, but for this he did), and she lost control of her bike.  Obviously we'll pay for the repairs.
Neighbor:....ok.  Thanks, I guess. 
Me (still sniffling): I'm really sorry.
Dad:  Yes, she's sorry.

At this point, I was waiting for the neighbors to call the police and report me for touching their mailbox, but they didn't.  Instead, the whole thing blew over and after my parents paid for them to get a new mailbox.  All was well. 

I continued to "deliver mail" after that incident, but I was completely focused on the road. 

I promise I'll post loft pics soon.  We're almost completely unpacked....finally!  And now, I'm out.

A week!

I've officially lived in St. Louis for a week now.  The loft is slowly starting to look like a loft and less like a federal disaster area, so that's promising. 

For the most part, the animals have adjusted to their new life.  Cherry seems completely oblivious that anything has changed, and happily rides the elevator and plays around in the park across the street.  Truman was another story.  For the first few days he absolutely refused to go to the bathroom anywhere but the park, and even then it took several minutes.  He preferred to walk around with pee literally dripping out because he had to go so badly than submit to this new life.  But, after a few days him not having his good old backyard, he finally caved.  Except he still won't go to the bathroom at night.  Whatever, it's not my problem.  He'll stop being a diva eventually.  This coming from the dog who refuses to walk on wet grass because he doesn't like getting his feet wet.  He'll stand safely under an overhang, while Cherry beelines for the nearest mud-puddle to roll around.  Quite the contrast. 

I like having the park across the street.  It makes it much easier having two dogs in a downtown loft when I don't have to go far for them to be taken care of. 

The upstairs part of our loft is pretty much always 10-15 degrees warmer than the downstairs.  As a result, I sleep with a fan pointed directly at me, like some sort of sweaty old person.  Don't judge.  The upstairs consists of our bedroom, a bathroom, and an open office area that looks out over the living room.  I'll try to post pics of everything once we are fully clear of the mountains of boxes and newspapers. 

Back to the dogs for a second- I'm amazed at how many people are completely terrified of them.  They're a great self-defense mechanism.  I'll be walking along and some people will walk up to pet them, noticing their excited bounce.  Others think the excited bounce is a sign of impending death, and make a giant arc around me to avoid them.  Others jump back into stores they've just exited.  I'm glad my completely harmless and defenseless animals can provide such protection!

And now, I make dinner.  Have a good night people.

New City

Well, you will all be pleased to know that I survived my first night in St. Louis, and I didn't get murdered, raped, or robbed.  I call that a victory.  Here are a few things I've learned in my brief 24 hours as a resident of downtown St. Louis:

1. While I've been given reliable directions, I'm still not sure how to get to any major highway from my loft.  I do, though, know where the Arch is, and if I can find that, I can get places...albeit the long way.

2. The radio stations here play maybe 4-5 songs.  Among those are Katy Perry, Jason DeRulo (sp?), Mike Posner, and Rihanna and Eminem.  That's it.

3. The shootings near my building happen on Sunday nights.  This is because of a certain nightclub that's open, and that nightclub attracts a certain kind of clientèle.  So, that being said, I won't be going out much on Sundays.

4. My parking garage reminds me of a particular scene in "Saw."  Those who have seen it know what I'm referring to (where the guy gets abducted in the shady parking garage).  I will be investing in some excellent pepper spray, and perhaps even a rape whistle. 

5.  There is an "elite" dog park group.  I didn't even know those things existed.  But, there is a park across the street from our building, and there are two fenced in areas- one is fine, but the other one is far cooler.  It has sprinklers and toys and stuff, and you need a key to unlock the gate.  THAT one is the elite one.  It's like $50/year to join, and they have meetings and stuff.  (For example, the next meeting has an agenda that includes talking about new benches).  Apparently the elite park is kept cleaner, and it drains much better after a rainstorm.  We will be looking into this.  I like being part of something elite.

6.  The sliding doors to our bedroom do not keep our slut of a cat Shelby out of our room.  She reaches into the crevice and forces the door open.  Once she has it open, she proceeds to jump on/walk all over our stomachs and faces, as well as play with every possible object she can...loudly.  She got locked in the bathroom at about 4am.

7. DirecTv still sucks. 


8.  At times, karma really DOES work.

I think that's all I've got for now. 

And, it's over.

That's pretty much all I have to say about that.  I have NO idea how I did; I couldn't even hazard a guess.  I will say that MBE was much harder than ANY practice questions I worked on.  I just hope I guessed right.

Anyway, the bar itself is quite the experience.  First off, we woke up around 5:15 on Day 1 to leave by 6.  We had to be there by 7:30, but I had no idea if we'd run into stupid traffic or encounter livestock blocking the highway or some other bizarre event that would ONLY happen if we didn't give ourselves enough time to get to Jeff City.  Anyway, when I say "woke up", I mean actually got out of bed, because I didn't really sleep at all Monday night.  I rolled around, staring at the clock, browsing Facebook on my phone in the dark, telling laws and rules to myself...I'm pretty sure at one point I even played the "what if I won the lottery" game in an effort to chill the eff out.  But, nothing worked.  I think all in all, I got about 2 hours of sleep spread out throughout the night.

A few of my favorite fellow bar takers:

1.  Bat shit crazy girl who told us her life story over the course of the three days.  She was one of the first people I saw on day one, and with one glance at her Shape-Ups, I knew she was something special.  According to Scott, the only people that wear Shape-Ups are old people, crazy people, or Joe Montana.

 Sup?

This girl was #2.  While we were passing time, she started talking about how she was surprised she passed her character and fitness because her husband lost his job, they had no money, they had tax problems, loan problems, and they had defaulted on several of their credit cards.  Um, hi, I'm Nikki, and I hardly know you.  And all these people around you?  They don't know you either.  Maybe you keep your real-life secured transaction problem to yourself.  She continued this for the duration of our time together, at most points just talking to the air and looking around at people to see if they were listening.

2. Meltdown girl.  I'm sure there's one (or more) every year.  This year she sat by me.  She had a constant leg twitch to begin with, and it just got worse as the day went on.  I looked over at one point and she was gripping clumps of her hair so tightly that her knuckles were ghost white, her head shaking like she was about to have a full blown-exorcism in the midst of essay number 9.

3.  The 44-year old who finished everything several hours early.  I hope it was because he sucked.  I'm a nice person, but I need to be better than some people to pass this thing.

Today sucked.  No two ways about it.  Both Scott and I were somewhat pissy during our lunch break, having just been quietly and discreetly molested for 3 hours, and facing 3 more.  We went to Chipotle for lunch, and horror of horrors, they were out of chicken and wouldn't have any for 5 more minutes.  Sadly, we didn't really have a lot of time, so Scott had to settle for barbacoa.  This did not please him, and he had some snide remarks to me about the chicken situation.  They weren't directed to Chipotle, but they were overheard by the burrito-maker.  Comments such as "they're already out of chicken and it's not even the lunch rush.  That sounds like good food management"...and the like.  He knows he was a butt, but at that point our brains weren't firing on the same cylinders as our mouthes.  Anyway, they comped his burrito, so one was free.  And then, to top it off, while we were eating an employee came over with two cards, good for two free burritos on our next Chipotle visit.  Moral of the story- be an ass, get prizes.

After making it through that, I wondered what would be the best way to illustrate my general brain function.  So I made a picture of myself.

Tiaras, unicorns, centaurs, and smeared lipstick.  A good combo.  For the record, when I was trying to come up with centaur I googled "manotaur", which is not the same thing.  But I did learn from Urban Dictionary that "a manotaur is a female that is highly fit and displaying a high level of muscularity.  A manotaur is not unattractive per se, and can still be thought of as hot to some.  However a manotaur will not fit the expected cultural norms for what a female should look like."   I know a few manotaurs myself.

After coming up with that pure masterpiece, I decided to do a representation of my dearest Scotty.

A suave man, running the rose through his moustache as he tilts his pilgram hat to one side.

As you can see, I've lost it.  I should probably stop talking.  I'm going back to relaxing now.