holy flooded downtown metro!

This morning, when I got in my car at 6.45am (yes, 6.45am) to travel to work, I had no idea that three hours later, I would still not be at work and could've been to Dallas. Sure, the commute's a bitch, but not like this! It was smooth sailing for most of the trip north until torrential rain came down making every slow down to about four mph. Then the shit really hit the fan. Every exit I could take to get to work was closed by the highway patrol due to high water. So, I headed downtown to take an alternate route and shit just got worse. Hours later, after driving through many of ill-advised puddles, taking a break in a parking lot, turning around on closed roads, scooting around abandoned, submerged cars, I finally thought I'd schemed a way out of of the mess by heading west then north. But, turns out I headed west then south, because I am awesome at directions. South means home, so home I am. I only have one car. If it gets effed , I'm effed. Now I'm at home, safe and sound, catching up on work, Glee and Jezebel.com. Ah, Oklahoma weather.

This is from msnbc.com, but it's pretty much what it looked like this morning. For realz.

In a related story, doesn't Helen Mirren look stunning (as seen by my fortuitous perusal of Jezebel). On that note, I would like to marry both Ryan Reynolds and ScarJo.
Holy crap are they hot.

It's starting to storm again. What the face, OK?

Dear Gary England,

You owe me $140.

Yesterday, you got on the tube and starting creaming your pleated front Dockers about "weather events" running amock around the state. And I listened. Like a 'tard. Your incessant screeching about baseball sized hail ripping through Noble heading toward Norman compelled me to seek shelter for my new (to me) car.

Now, I don't have a garage, per se, but a detachable old-timey garage-shed-type-thing at the end of the long gravel driveway. Classy, yes? So, the BF and I make a run for it into blinding rain to open the doors to this thing and jockey the cars around so I can pull in. Which I do. It's when I get out that I hear a hissing sound. The sound of a punctured tire. AWESOME! Soaking wet, the BF and I head back inside to wait out the impending weather armageddon before surveying the damage. We wait. And wait. And wait. Guess what? No hail. No straight line winds. No tornado (in spite of the screaming sirens all night). NO FUCKING ANYTHING! After the rain ended, skies cleared and the sun shined. And my heart closed forever to the Oklahoman in me that reveres all things Gary England. He is dead to me.

Much like my tire. The BF put on his man pants and put on the spare. I got the new tire put on this morning. Yes, $140 is cheaper than hail damage, surely. But still, Gary, you can make the check out to I am an idiot.

RIP (in my heart) Lord Gary

p.s. This is why I was motivated to move my car and attempted to believe these weather jokers.

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.

Hold onto your M-Fing hats, y'all.

There's gonna be a blizznado. Lord Gary must be creaming his wrinkle-resistant JC Penny pleat front slacks like nobody's business. I predict that all the hype of this freak storm will amount to about -.347 inches of snow in the metro.



I secretly hope I'm wrong and will have ample excuse to watch the Battlestar Galactica finale again tonight. Yeah, I said it.

I'm back.

But there's a tornado in my office. More later.



I'll regale you all with tales of Awesomefest09 tomorrow.

Blythe's Recession Tip #46: Have an ice storm!

When unable to scrape and snap the layers of ice from your car, you can't go anywhere to spend dollar dollar bills y'all, and voila, you save money! I'm already up like $400 from not buying stamps to mail my bills. Best. Ice. Storm. Ever. I suggest you put on some old school winter brooding music, and stare out your window. 100% free!

I highly recommend Van Morrison - Astral Weeks (because, this can lead to, you know... also, usually, free).

and/or Janis Ian - Between the Lines (this won't lead anywhere but self loathing).

This might also be a good time to get some pre-spring cleaning done. I'd suggest starting with your liquor cabinet.

Happy Ice Day!

Last thing, if you have half an hour on hand and want a lifetime of jokes, just watch THESE.

Oklahoma! Where the wind comes sweeping down the plains.

Except replace "wind" with sleet and "plains" with asphalt of death. It only took me an hour and a half to get from 23rd and 235 to Nompton. In the middle of the afternoon.

I blame you, Gary England.

Oh snap.

I kinda knew this would happen. Deep in my heart of sports prediction hearts. Does it make it any easier? No. Now, the SEC will be all we'reawesomethebig12isforpussyteamsthatscuck. And also, Texas and Utah will be all thiswouldneverhavehappened to us. Well, guess what kids, it would've. Know why? Because, in spite of it all, Oklahoma is a kickass team that succeeded at not losing to Florida, but to itself this evening. Also, we are destined to lose all bowl games presided over by our dear St. Stoops. There I said it. So sue me. Finally, I am terribly drunk, so I will surely either regret or forget what I have said. In the meantime: boomer sooner. We will prevail! In 2018. Or something near that.

Hamburgers.

Christmas blows jingle balls.

An Oklahoma Christmas

Why is the most wonderful time of year the least? As I've mentioned, the season puts me in a severely foul mood, which can only be remedied by online shopping and the promise of days off from work. It was a rather dull holiday, which is all the more depressing, since I'm obviously a heartless robot incapable of feeling any joy.

1. A few weeks ago, one of my g-pas offered me a rather new 42" TV as he and g-ma had replaced their set recently for a new HD model. Sign me up! The fam crammed our overfed asses into my mom's Matrix to ensure we had trunk (hatch) space to accomodate the TV, which we intended to pick up on our annual pilgrimage to a place that might even be worse the Worcestor, MA, Woodward, OK. Upon arrival, I was greeted by said g-pa, who led me to a closet with an old, decrepit, maybe 25" set encased in what appeared to be fake wood panelling. I accepted it graciously and tossed it in the cavernous trunk of the car. I noticed that they had clearly reallocated the TV in question to the playroom where my little cousins had set up Christmas camp. Bah.

2. Part two of the same trip, with the same g-parents (it's confusing because my parents share the same hometown, which means two birds, one stone when it comes to holidays), all hell breaks loose because of a four year old girl. The grandparents have a spacious house clearly built with the intention of holding extended family over holidays. However, there's simply not enough room for all of the family members who arrive from all over the southern US. This year, the assortment included my step grandmother's daughter, husband, and four year old daughter (oh yeah, I forgot to mention she's the step 'ma - it's been over 20 years, so sometimes I forget, but it's important). Christmas Eve, four year old girl gets a room, the parents get a room, and my uncle (not step) gets a room. Christmas day, uncle is informed that he will be sleeping on the couch because step g-ma's number one son is arriving with his wife. So, now we have four year old girl in one room, parents in one room, newly arriving couple in one room, 48 year old uncle with bad back on couch in living room. Uncle says oh hell no. They think he is kidding because what sensible adult doesn't understand that a small child needs their very own queen size bed? I mean, really. He's not. He's driven in from Houston (not a quick jaunt, you see) and decides to hightail it back to Norman for a real bed at my house. Ok. Makes sense. We're heading out (after Christmas number three at the OTHER grandparents house complete with assorted cousins, aunts and uncles), and are about 45 miles outside of Woodward, when uncle's beamer starts spewing smoke. After leaving him on the highway and a trip to the Seiling, OK gas station that is thankfully open on Christmas Day night at about 11pm, we determine that he's got a cracked radiator. Guess where he's headed. Oh snap.

3. Ex-boyfriend sightings. Boo. It's still so strange to me that a) he's never responded to what I thought was a clever b-day card that said, hey, we're over all the weird crap, let's put it behind us and laugh, and b) that someone whom I shared almost everyday with for seven years is wandering the streets of my town with no inclination at all to inquire about how I am, what I am, all that stuff. Baffling. Current boyfriend drama. NSFB. (Not safe for blogs.) We'll see!

4. Recession is the new economy. I usually rely on making bank at Christmas to get me through the winter or allow me to buy something much needed (washer and dryer!!!), but it was a super stingy Christmas this year, understandably. So, I apologize for wearing either the same smelly thing over and over again, or for showing up ridiculousy under or overdressed because I'm down to the formal or loungewear portion of the ol' wordrobe.

My life without a washer and dryer. Sad, isn't it?

5. NYE! Go fuck yourself. I give up on this. $10 says you can find me with a bottle of scotch and a self imposed SATC marathon on my shitty, not 42" TV.

6. Happy holidays. More later.

Hey look, we're in the paper! The NY Times Magazine, no less.

Get a load of this. (For those not in the know, Oklahoma City is the location of Oklahoma's only professional sports franchise, the newly transplanted Seattle SuperSonics, now known as the Thunder - probably not on the radar of most NBA fans.)

Where the Thunder Comes Dribbling Down the Plains

Here is a highlight:

With Seattle on a roll — it’s home to Microsoft, Amazon.com, Starbucks, Costco, Nordstrom — it is difficult to fathom why any team (or business, for that matter) would leave the city and its famous quality of life for a metropolitan area one-third its size. And why Oklahoma City? Even in its own state, Tulsa would seem to have greater national prospects, with its rolling hills, mansion-filled neighborhoods and cultural accouterments of a serious place, as opposed to flat, brown, insular Oklahoma City, where unseemly oil wells blight even the Capitol grounds.

Ok, fine. It ends up being somewhat fair in the end. And, it was the best written piece about Oklahoma I've seen in a long, long time since we're usually stuck with The Oklahoman. In any case, I gotta find me some tickets.

Pop Quiz

Where have I been?

a. Working security at the DNC.

b. Winning like 5,000 gold medals in field hockey. *I did go to a college for ladies...

c. Welcoming baby Bee-Spot into the world!

d. In a room at 900 E. Main St., Norman, OK.

e. Washing my hair.

f. Two words. Gender reassignment.

g. I'm now Mrs. Bee-Spot!

h. Preparing for ACL by immersing myself in thousands upon thousands of mp3s and irony.

i. Filming with the rest of the new cast of Real World: OKC.

j. Waiting in line at Wal-Mart to pay for just one tube of toothpaste.

k. First month of medical school!

l. Boycotting all things blog.

m. Watching every possible Lost episode and webisode in preparation for the impending season.

n. Hospitalized for Diet Coke OD.

o. Totally sweet and awesome vacay!

p. Preparing for the US Open, only to be knocked out in the first round.

q. On the campaign trail with McCain.

r. Lost in Forever 21.

s. Knocker reduction surgery.

t. Drinking.

u. Drinking.

v. Painting my face and body crimson and cream for tomorrow's opening game!

w. Hosting the eighth hour of the Today Show.

x. Just watching the Today show (full time occupation).

y. I predict no one makes it this far down the list.

z. Wallowing in self pity, despair, laziness, beer, wine, and Taco Bell.

1-2-3-4 tell me that you love me anymore (like you ever did)

I am not so good at the blogging with all of the working and the sleeping and the solitary drinking and such. Apologies. My job continues to dominate 80% of my time that I don't spend thinking or talking about my job. The other .01% of my time I spend bitching about everything else, including this blog and the lack thereof. However, this weekend, I took a little break from my self imposed prison of work and bitchiness and ventured out into my community with the following results:

1. Apple Store, Penn Square Mall, Oklahoma City, OK: My dad called to let me know that TurboTax had felled our mighty eMac from 2004. Surprise. He was freaking out because now he had no computer with which to go online and order a new computer so that he could complete filing in a timely manner. I suggested that instead of ordering a computer and taking a day off work to await its arrival that we go to the Apple Store conveniently located near a J. Crew. He agreed, with reservation - about what, I don't know. We completed the purchase after about 500 hours of luddite torture inflicted by Dad toward myself and the poor, annoying apple guy who says he will email the receipt and call us when the additional memory stick has been installed - yes, we had them do it. When we return to pick up the computer, the concierge/dumbass asks for our receipt. I say it will be emailed to us with our Apple Care information. Dad then completely freaks out because it dons on him that without his old computer working, he can't possibly check email to print out the new receipt. FOR REAL! I calmly try to tell him that he can access his email from any computer and that we need only to turn on the new computer so that he can log in to gmail. He thinks this over and clearly thinks that he has spawned a complete and utter retard for thinking that email can exist on more than just one's personal computer. Seriously, folks, it's amazing I can even read. Also, he has a Ph.D.

2. Meacham Hall, OU, Norman, OK: Later that night, Darryl/Craig Robinson, the endearing warehouser from The Office performed his stand up routine at OU. It bordered on totally lame and awful and made extensive use of a Casio and the word "panties." I could make better jokes in my sleep, if I were funny. Later that night, we saw him holding court over a mixture of fratsters and sorostitutes (who probably don't watch The Office unless it's on in the background while they're blowing dudes with their boat shoes* still on) at the bar. Ew.

3. East Lawn, OU, Norman, OK: Later, later that night, we returned from the disappointing "comedy" show to whine and complain about the lack of interesting shit to do in Norman, the boyfriend stumbled upon the fact that Voxtrot would be performing at OU, right where we had been a mere minutes earlier. We finished our Keystones and braved the streets filled with the remnants of OU's first scrimmage to listen to approximately 1.5 songs before they finished. Oops. They are darling! Like all good hipsters, they are mini. Super cute, teeny tiny musicians. Oh well, random indie bands are always clamoring to play in Norman, so there'll be more... Actually, if you read this (ha!) and you're from the area, the Norman Music Festival happens the 26th. The line up isn't bad including British Sea Power, The Polyphonic Spree and lots of not totally sucky local acts.

Enjoy: The Start of Something - Voxtrot

4. Cain's Ballroom, Tulsa, OK: Mr. Shain and I hit the turnpike for a quick trip to Tulsa to hear my favorite Feist perform Monday night. Shain is truly dear sometimes, but I don't know why, and frankly, it scares me. He picked me up from work and promptly handed me a Boylan lime seltzer, my favorite, for the trip. I thought for sure this meant that he was the Silvio to my Ade. After a pit stop at McDonald's so Shain could stuff his face with the new southern chicken sandwich (what does that even mean, McDonald's?) we arrived in Tulsa to get lost in the totally dead downtown area. It was weird. We were afraid to park, but we did and made it inside. Now, I love Feist and you will not convince me otherwise. I have Let it Die and The Reminder memorized. I will fight you if you say she sucks unless it looks like I cannot win. Right, my point was that I suspected, as we entered the venue, that the Urban Outfitted attendees did not share the same kind of love. I was right. Instead of singing the The Park, she railed the audience for their behavior to the melody. I imagine this is not unusual for her, that she probably rehearses admonishments for mid-western audiences, but I got her point. Shain thought it was preachy and tacky. What was actually maybe more tacky was her outfit - I couldn't decide if her white fringed mini dress with white leather booties topped with beaded Native American inspired necklaces was an homage to her surroundings or just bizarre taste. More disturbing was the continued audience behavior. This chick beside me totally flipped her shit on the security guy near us chatting up a totally drunk girl. The security dude actually told her to shut the fuck up. I was stunned. But then I returned to the hypnotic effect of the music accompanied by this super hot piano player and the boyfriend's doppleganger on guitar (he seriously looked quite like him). She played all the old favorites including new versions of Inside and Out and Let it Die. She forgot a verse of Mushaboom, but came back with a fantastic encore of Sealion Woman. One of the most compelling things about the whole show, besides Shain's clothing choice which involved a stuffed in t-shirt and vest, was the shadow imagery projected on the back of the stage area. Usually, I hate that shit, but now, of course, I want to change careers. We got home about 2 and I headed into work by 8. Awesome, but worth it.

Enjoy:
So Sorry
Gatekeeper

5. My Bed, Norman, OK: I went to bed last night a about 7pm and woke up at 6.30 this morning. Hence the bloglessness. I'll try to be better about reporting my totally boring life and inane observations, but no promises.




*Has anyone noticed this trend? WFT? They are the summer equivalent of Uggs, I suppose. I will never understand and assume that's for the best.

OHMYGOD WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE: Part II.

Oh, to be an Oklahoman. This morning, as I was listening to NPR, the local news had a story about State Rep Sally Kern spewing hate. I was going to post it, but The Lost Ogle beat me to it. Jesus Christ on a stick. There is a war, a recession and American Idol. Who has time for this shit?

Sally Kern is a jerk via The Lost Ogle.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Beer instead of music edition.

You may not know this about me, but I like beer. A lot. More than liking beer, I like to complain about the lack thereof here in the Sooner state. After spending a million years in the MA, I grew accustomed to the multitude of microbreweries dotting New England and beyond, their microbrews available in package stores, bars and restaurants. I miss a lot of things about New England like seafood, liberals, snow storms, independent video stores, all varieties of Cabot products, villages, mountains, soft serve stands, but I think I miss the beer most of all. I would vote for McCain if you offered me a Harpoon UFO at this point. Oklahoma's liquor laws are more mysterious than why No Country for Old Men won best picture last night over There Will Be Blood or why I'm so attracted to Helen Mirren. I guess I'll just never understand. In the meantime, if you're headed to the NE or are already there, pour one of these out for me.

Harpoon UFO - so wheaty.


Long Trail Double Bag - so malty.



Smuttynose Old Brown Dog - so brown.



Magic Hat #9 - so magic (and apricot).



Brooklyn Pilsner - so golden.



Rapscallion Blessing - so comes in an awesome brandy snifter like glass that you can steal if you bring a large enough purse.

BREAKING NEWS: Mr. Shain may not be so bad.

Today, or yesterday, I don't really know, longtime bee-spot reader and friend/hater, Mr. Shain, formerly of *The Life & Times, sent me an email. Within this email was a link to the website Stuff White People Like. Maybe you've heard of it already, chances are, I don't care. In the meantime, the site provides a bit of hilarity during a long day at the office blogs. To tell the truth, and listen carefully, because I am rarely honest (also, you guys are the most awesome readership ever!), it's more a site about what yuppies like. I can get behind that as some day I aspire to be a yuppie, but until then I will drive a Camry instead of a Prius. Anyway, my point is, this list makes sense if you live in Connecticut or Vermont or maybe Edmond. For the rest of us (especially here in Oklahoma), I think there's a different list to be had.

George Bush
Matchbox 20
Cracker Barrel
Jack and Ron on 98.9
Buying American
Lake Hefner
Sam's Wholesale Club
The Blazers
local banks
Diet Coke/Pepsi
The Lake (where ever that might be)
Gary England/weather preparedness
Bricktown
Edmond Public Schools

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with hating on this election. Seriously, no one is undecided. Fine. If you are, you are either a complete luddite and I applaud you although you are certainly not reading this, or you aren't really going to vote, so quit pretending like you are. Primaries are a useless joke, especially if you are from a state like Oklahoma. Unless you live in one of the important states, no one gives a shit. And if you do live in an important state, Chuckabee's evangelical God bless you. That must've been a nightmare. Maybe you'll get an extra chunk of change in your really well thought out economic incentive package rebate for tolerating your civic duty and Chris Matthews barreling into your living room spitting on your furniture. In the meantime, I hate all media, in spite of being oddly attracted to both Mika and Joe on Morning Joe (MSNBC weekday mornings from 3am until 11am). Right, so, since no one is actually undecided, let's just vote now. The obscene amounts of money candidates have raised to purchase tacky suits (Ron Paul, seriously, go to fucking Nordstrom or something - you have those in Texas), commission absolutely retarded and insulting commercials, and buy hordes of useless staffers can be donated to something worthwhile, like my student loans.

Tear that, Mika. Rip it up. Are you wearing your super sexy black boots today?

I owe a cock us

Hey look! After a self imposed exile from technology ranging from blogs, email, phone, digital camera, and electric toothbrush, I'm back! And I'm pissed and/or feeling wittily insightful about a number of topics ranging how to properly load a dishwasher, the best way quell murderous feelings towards one's family, why it is always a good idea to show way too much cleavage at Christmas Eve mass, how to be utterly disappointed in your football team and the benefits of eating your weight in ham. Yay! I didn't mean to scare y'all, I just needed a break. More later, I promise.

Love in Christ,
B.

P.S. If you live in Iowa, please just don't go for Romney, Huckabee, Giuliani, Thompson, or any of the Retardlicans, really.

Cringesday: D.O.R.K.

Guess what's even worse than OKC morning traffic? (And it's really not bad because of congestion, it's bad because people in OK think the left lane is for trucks and minivans going 63 through a 70 uphill with Jesus fish stickers plastered to the rear bumber.) OKC traffic with no stop lights. I left extra early this morning to account for this possibility, but alas, I ended up tacking on an extra 20 minutes from sitting at 4-way stops as dumbasses tried to figure out how they work. WTF!? Anyway, to quash my road ragicidal tendencies, I took my morning routine to the extreme.

DearJustice (pron. justeece according to Shain),

Your hit single, D.A.N.C.E. is personally responsible for the remaining modicum of sanity I have during this time of state-wide emergency. Listening on repeat for an hour somehow really calmed my already threadbare nerves. I refuse to tire of this song, even though they played it on MTVu. Thanks weird French dudes.

As strong as you might
Working day and night
Whatever happens
Do the DANCE (do the dance)

48 hours of pure hell and an ice storm.

Hey there. Perhaps you have read of my plight. I think it's been a leading story on cnn.com, so that means it's a big deal. Yesterday, I awoke to the strange combination of snapping trees, thunder and sizzling power lines. A veritable winter symphony that Dickens himself couldn't have better written. Or something. A few hours later, the power finally went out. You were right Mike Mitchell England (only funny to native Oklahomans, apologies, also, it might not be funny to them either). Shain (for his version, click HERE) forged a path across town amidst tree debris and stoplightless traffic (what's so tough to understand about a four-way stop people?) to pick me up so we could do important things like seek out coffee, pastry and toilet paper. Shain chose to dress for the occasion by wearing a freshly pressed white button down oxford, pin-striped mid-weight pants and shined dress shoes. With no real coat - some puffy thing he claims he got in Prague or some bullshit. Business homeless chic, I say. (I had on fleece upon fleece, mittens, scarf, heavy coat, etc - like a normal person.) Anyway, we make our way to SuperTarget where in addition to toilet paper, I remember my mom has requested hot dogs in the event she was able to start a fire in our fireplace. I left her as she was frantically tearing pages out of our second copy of The Riverside Shakespeare to use as kindling, so I was skeptical. Turns out it didn't matter as all that was left on the shelves turned out to be pepperoni. Mmm. After my superhappyfuntime with Shain, I spent some superhappyfuntime with my fam in the dark. We only had scented candles. Our living room rivaled my brief stint trapped in a ventless office at Yankee Candle Co. headquarters. Ugh. However, power was returned and I finally succumbed to the migraine graciously supplied by my mother and went to bed retardedly early beneath a pile of quilts and a dog. I awoke this morning to a bevy of texts from my workstudies happily alerting me that XXX had no power. No school! Yay! I went back to sleep and continued to drool while dreaming about appearing on The Barefoot Contessa. I wish I were kidding. Work's back on for tomorrow, but after almost 48 solid hours of family time, I couldn't be happier.

That's the sadness that is my backyard and a tree that used to be more complete. It continued cracking and breaking all day till there's not a lot left.

Close up of crunchy, frozen grass. But I finally got to break out my Montrails and clomp around just like the old days of New England!

More tree sadness. And my neighborhood was pretty fortunate in that it's a cheap, newish subdivision with no real trees, just crap Bradford pears that snap like my mom when she misses her 4pm snack.

Hey, yeah, I'll just run out and grab something from the store. NOT! That's probably 1.5 inches of ice encasing my car, folks.

Hmm. Pepperoni or pepperoni? I just don't know!

Ice encapsulated holly. Pretty. Sort of.

Music for winter misery:
All That I Want - The Weepies
Cold December - Matt Costa
Sister Winter - Sufjan Stevens

Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

no work tomorrow. Please? I only have one car. And I'd like to not end up some mangled piece of frozen roadside debris on 35 tomorrow. Also, I will have to start de-icing my car now in order to make it to work on time. So far, my university is the only one that is remaining open in the entire state of Oklahoma. Sweet.

Gary England, if you are reading this, and I suspect that you are, please send Val Castor out to XXXXXXXX XXXX University and film someone getting in a wreck or breaking their leg on the sidewalk. Then email it to President XXX XXXXXXXX and then give me a call so I can know whether or not to finish this bottle of wine.

kthxbai,
bee.