When will I ever learn?

Probably never.



I have little to negative willpower. Unless you count forcing myself to sit through a Jon & Kate Plus 8 marathon, followed by The Real Housewives of New Bubbies, topped off by 12 new epidoes of TrueLife on MTV. In that case, I am the fucking willpower champion. But usually, I don't know my limits. It's always, one more, I'll just have one more. And then another after that. And then, well. Needless to say it's not pretty. Basically, I need help. If I have it anywhere around me, I'll mindlessly partake. Work. Home. Driving. Anything. And the consequences are always disastrous. What did Einstein say? Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? Well, kids, surprise! I'm nuts.



Listen to your Auntie Blythe. JUST SAY NO!

No matter how good you think these colon bombs are, please, limit yourself. Turns out your body cannot actually handle 150 grams of fiber in one sitting. If you are going to hit it, though, oats and chocolate is by far the best flavor. I just hope you have a private bathroom at work or a sphincter of steel.

Too much?

Fun Fact of the Day

Did you know that Bobcat Goldthwait turns 47 today? I could've sworn he was at least fifty something by now. In any case, happy birthday Bob! Cat.

Zach Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Summer Jam Edition

Is Passion Pit's "The Reeling" the Summer Jam of 09?

Sundays are for Cracker Barrel

When you venture out on a weekend morning, I suggest you steer (literally) clear of any Cracker Barrels* in your area. They are dangerous places of death and destruction and I'm not just talking about cholesterol and race relations. The speed limit might say 40, but sure as shit every oldie wheeling their obsolete Buick into the parking lot will be racing along at 5, maybe 7. BEWARE.

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*I will never ever, even under duress, admit to immensely enjoying the hashbrown casserole. NEVER!

Note To Self:

When erasing all evidence of your now nearly forgotten ex-boyfriend from your life, do not forget to also minimize Facebook newsfeeds from his family. Nothing like a fresh photo of your dog and his new family.

In which I am attracted to my own armpits.

As you may or may not absolutely did not read, I have fallen prey to a little marketing scam called clinical deodorant. Basically, the shit's pit crack. It's getting all warm in the OKC and that means sleeveless shirts, outdoor activities, and night sweats. I guess the last one isn't really related to the weather as much as my effed up subconscious* so that means added layers of pit protection has become necessary. Also, sometimes I go to the gym. I ran out of the stuff this weekend and thought, well, I'll save myself $7 (beer!) and roll on the old regular standby. WRONG! Thanks Secret, for literally making me chemically dependent upon your super overpriced product. I ponied up the dough for a new stick tonight after work, but they were out of my normal scent! I picked up the sport version, with fresh marathon scent. Fresh marathon makes me think of vomit, bleeding nipples, and gatorade shit, but ok. I'll try it. I rolled it on as soon as I got home because I'm an addict and BAM! I smelled like a dude. And I like that smell. I keep liking that smell. I lifted my arm to stir the mushrooms for dinner tonight and bang! Who's that? Oh, it's me. Hey me...

*For real, the other night, I had a dream about developing an Astral Weeks era Van Morrison lyric generator. There was one column of colors, one of fruits and one of bodies of water. Tell me you don't think "springs of viridian plums" couldn't fit.

Semi-Nude Pictures of My Friends Playing Twister

If you're from Oklahoma, and I am, there's only one legitimate kind of twister*. And it involves these people (who are neither my friends, nor semi-nude), not the classic game that I wish I'd invented because, basically, it's a plastic sheet with brightly colored dots all over it and now someone's super effing rich. Really? I couldn't think of that?

*I pray to Bob Stoops that no such photos exist.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Back in the Saddle Again Edition

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Pandora rocks my socks off. And other things too. I'm not great at managing Pandora, it kind of reminds me of those thingies, Tamagotchie? Remember? Anyway, my Tamagotchie died and my Pandora doesn't fare much better. I sometimes tell it songs I don't like, and more rarely tell it to remember songs I do. Right, so, I hit next a lot. But, these are the Blythe approved Pandora provided songs as of late:

Falling Into Space - Don Dilego (surely, this was on Scrubs)

November - Azure Ray (only listen to this if you are a 13 year old girl cueing up music to listen to while you scribble away in your diary)

Once Around The Block - Badly Drawn Boy (I forget about this guy 99% of the time)

In Transit - Albert Hammond Jr. (Infectious. Jerk.)

Kiss The Sky - Shawn Lee's Ping Pong Orchestra (What? Weird.)

How The Story Goes - The Redwalls (Did anyone read those Brian Jacques books?)

Coming Home - The 88 (I like really terrible music sometimes.)

The Ballad of the Dead Rat - The Teeth (I just like all of those words forming a band and song name.)

Until the Morning - Thievery Corporation (Old standby.)

Face It - Old Canes (Note to self, learn more about Old Canes.)

A Little More Time - Zox (This is all time number one Pandora song stuck in my head. I have no idea why.)

Since I Fell For You - Nina Simone (I collect all versions of this song.)

Ice Cream - New Young Pony Club (Lady rap!)

hope you at least bought your mom a card, if applicable

Sadcakes

Yesterday, the fam got some not so good news about my g-pa. Because my parents were young when I was born (24!) and their parents were even younger, we have collectively avoided the parental mortality issue. Hell, I have a great grandma still kickin' it at 87 or so. That's how we do in the OK. Right so, the news is not good. It's not entirely surprising, but still sobering.

Yesterday, I drove my brother to the ol' homestead from the hospital where the testing was conducted and rummaged around my old room for forgotten treasures. I like to do this once in a while when I get a serious urge to shop, so I shop for my own stuff! Pure genius, I know. I opened my closet to see what booty was held within, but instead of finding an awesome pair of shoes from college or cds that've been missing for five years, I found lots of small boxes mailed from said g-pa to my dad.

I opened several (they'd already been opened and they were in my closet, so it was justified snoopage) and discovered that my g-pa has been sending my dad trinket upon trinket from Dad's childhood for the last few months. One contained an engraved pocket knife given to my dad God knows when. Another contained the yellow stuffed bear Dad carried around for years, completely intact, preserved in a Ziploc bag, accompanied by a note detailing its origins. There's a jar of marbles and a box of old metal Tonka trucks. A neatly folded eagle scout kerchief. Recordings of poems written and read by G-pa's dad. Cards, books with inscriptions, handwritten notes, receipts with stories of their inception, photos with names and dates scrawled across the back.

These tangible things. The crumbling stuffed bear, weathered photos, withered papers. My memories are still somewhat tactile, but my brother, seven years younger - what's he left with? A flash drive? MP3 player? Screenshots of emails sent? Digital photos lost in the throes of Facebook? A NintendoDS? I'll preoccupy myself with the larger implications of technology outpacing our hearts instead of the physical evidence of a great mind recognizing its impending limitations.

Got me hoping you'll save me right now

Ring the alarm, I am addicted to Beyonce/Sasha Fierce. It turns out, the only way I can motivate for a run is to pump B through my earbuds at an unreasonable volume. I've purchased every worthwhile song from her extensive catalog from this:

To this:



To this:




Doesn't someone want to upgrade me? And Rihanna/Princess Alien doesn't count. Help!

Swine flu, schwine flu

NMF! Woo woo!

Well folks, it's time for the second, now annual, Norman Music Festival. Not too shabby for a blip on the radar like Norman, OK. This year's line up includes a shit ton of local bands crowding the more than 10 stages camped out on downtown Main Street and beyond. So maybe, what, two of them won't suck? It's not me, just the odds. The headliners are Of Montreal, the Starlight Mints, Tea Leaf Green (who?) and someone else I already forgot. Rumor was Joaquin Phoenix was in the mix, but I think that fell through. Balls. I'm super psyched that the throngs descend upon Norman's historic downtown to hang out in the open air and partake of local businesses, but the line up fucking blows*.

I know we're limited, since it's, you know, Norman, but really? The best we can do is Of Montreal and a local band? Of Montreal performed at OU a couple of years ago (remind me to shoot myself for living here that long) and it BLEW. Their sound went out and they were rendered completely useless. Hipster sadness abounded. Also, I think my taste in music is decidedly female. For whatever that means. Like indie easy listening, I guess. Like what my mom would listen to if she were down with the psuedo-indie commercial scene. Like, how about the Hold Steady? That would actually be a good festival band. Or Spiritualized? That would be good. Vampire Weekend's too good for the OK? Dr. Dog? King Khan and the Shrines? Shit, even Hosty?** Anyone besides Of Montreal? Dunno why I'm so negative, but it seems like a good opportunity wasted.

However, of course, I will attend because what is better than wandering around in the sunshine with lots of peeps, dogs and beer? Answer: nothing. The BF and I are scheming to find the best way to beverage ourselves without paying for drinks. As in, seriously considering parking a beer packed car right now in a lot close enough to walk to from the venues for easy access. We shall see. It might be the perfect day for a flask.

Album that's getting me through the day: Jim - Jamie Lidell.



Cannot get efuckingnough of this guy. This album's a patented commute buster. Get it. It's this weird composite of schmaltzy Stevie Wonder, super 80s Zapp ad Roger, weird Prince, and the choir from Sister Act 2. It works, though.

Another Day and Out Of My System
Little Bit of Feel Good



*Yes, I realize we are lucky to have anyone agree to play this place. See here.
**Do you live in the area? Have you not yet been to Hosty? Are you rere?

summer summer summertime (except it's still spring)

Duuuuude! It's hot out there. Hot on my arms. Hot on the part in my hair. Hot on my nose. Hot on my bare feet. Bring it, vitamin D. 91 degrees! On April 22!


Irises* are blooming. Grass is greening. Who needs post work happy hour when you can find some books, some Boylan, and some serious sun?

*I'm not actually sure what kind of blooms those are, they just appeared in my yard.

F$#kbook

I am currently conducting an experiment of sorts. This is what happens when you don't have a car or bike to take you places. As you may or may not care, I work in HR at a university. I know, awesome, right? You may also not care that I'm really bad at the FB. Like rere. I don't post pictures, useful/funny updates or comments, nor do I have a mobile device made in this decade, so there's no spontaneous posting of super awesome stuff. The moral of this story is that I have five friends. On FB. In real life, I have two. And one is imaginary. That said, I realized that work is a source of FB friends that I haven't tapped into yet. But, I work in HR. So, will people be willing to accept my request knowing that, well, I work in HR. And conversely, do I have to be careful about what I post so as to not offend anyone? Surely, I will learn the answers to these questions and more in a totallly awkward/job losing way.

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Car troubles. I has them.

Have you ever been driving to work and your car makes a popping noise, then a grinding noise, then a dying noise, then another dying noise, and some more popping and clicking before all of the dash lights come on signifying death? So that happened today. As I wait for it to be towed and to empty my savings and to keep from crying at the thought of emptying my savings over a fucking water filter and timing belt, let's all look at this and smile.


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Is that a taco in your purse or are you just happy to see me?

Did you know, that on no less than two occassions, I have found a taco in the side pocket of my purse? Sometimes, I go to Taco Cabana (jealous?) and order too many tacos. So, I put one in my purse for safe keeping, until I'm ready to eat it at a later date. And then, you know, later, I find a taco in the side pocket of my purse.

XOXO,

Blythe

mmm... beer...

Guess where I am? In Austin, TX, overlooking 6th St. from a Hilton. For an awesome HR related conference. Guess what that means? Beer. Beer they won't sell in OK. Namely, Fat Tire.

Yeehaw!

Remember when I used to blog (badly) semi-regularly?

Yeah. Me too.