um. seriously?

Yesterday, after a mindnumbing 10.5 hours of work*, I commenced the long commute home, planning to veer my car toward the ol' homestead to walk my** dog with my mom to stretch out my legs after desk jockying for so long, but instead, ended up at happy hour with the BF. As I was sitting outside, drinking an IPA, feet up in the chair across from me, staring into the setting sun, I looked down at my chest, because, well, why not, it's awesome, and noticed something out of place.

At some point earlier in the day, I had been chewing gum. I don't know when I ceased chewing this gum. But, I guess I did, because there it was, stuck between the top of my dress and my cardigan. I thought, for a moment, maybe it's not mine! Maybe someone else threw their gum at my lady lumps. But no, it was green gum. I only chew green gum.

How did this happen? When did this happen? Was I talking to someone, and suddenly, the act of moving my chaw to masticate became too much of an effort and I simply let the gum drop out of my mought while I thought, huh.




*My job really isn't that bad. Sometimes days get long.
**This is my dog from high school who resides with my parents at their behest. I would prefer her to live with me. Claire, the dog, would prefer to eat bacon all day long.

No Whine Oh-Nine

You may not remember this. Turns out I'm not getting married to anyone, including myself.



While I kicked it up a notch at the gym, I didn't reach my goal, yet somehow managed to purchase a Le Creuset dutch over sometime in March. Don't ask. I extended my deadline through August and started a bootcamp class at my gym last week. Two days a week, one hour, 5.45 am. AWESOME! Right, in addition to doing something at the gym or outside every day but Sunday. I've actually been able to do it, and have been rewarded by gaining a pound. And being rendered a paraplegic.

Yesterday morning, we did stripper squats. Like 10,000. Naturally, I was quite good at them. What I'm not quite good at now is sitting up in bed, walking, leaning over, bending, driving, breathing, getting out of a chair, living. FUCK! That shit hurts! DOMS is kicking my ass. How am I supposed to run tonight so that I don't suck ass even worse tomorrow morning? F U vicious cycle! I will prevail. It's only six weeks. I can do anything for six weeks, especially if it involves not getting a hair cut, washing my car, or paying bills.

Also, how many ibuprofen is too much? Are too much. I think i just got my answer.




Bath time!

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

BREAKING ELECTION NEWS!

Psych! I know there's an election and all or whatever, but I think the following newsflash wins out. I don't want to sound like a douche or anything, but...

I'm kind of a big deal.

Check it: 75 Great Oklahoma Websites via Oklahoma Magazine. *Turn to page 76. I think/have it memorized.

I know, right! The TLO boys were also mentioned among many others actually deserving of making the list. I don't know if you've noticed, but... I kind of don't blog so much these days. When I let the BF know that he had the opportunity/obligation to buy a local celebrity a drink Friday night, he immediately asked whom I was sleeping with to secure such an honor. I'm 96% sure my parents paid for my mention as penance for this haircut.

**UPDATE** The dorkiest of all dorks, M5K has even noted this momentous, albeit undeserving and decidedly mysterious development. Recognize.

Otis Redding Wednesday

Sometimes, there is nothing that describes one's mental state better than an Otis Redding song.

The one where no one cares about my blog.

Man, if only I'd kept the genius coming instead of succumbing to the man.

This could've been me!

Hey Clinton, blogbuddy of ZFS, did that ramen come from Chinatown? Zing! Oh, no? Not a zing!? Ok.

Or this!

Lost Ogles, I met you at the NMF and you snubbed me. Then no mention in your 15 minutes of Oklahoma metro fame (which is equal to -25.8 seconds of national fame)? Ok, fair enough.

But, instead, it's just this:

It turns out that I am alive.

However, Christmas has sent me into a sadness spiral.

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.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday Except On A Tuesday & About TV Instead Of Music

Yeah, so this blog has been sucking hard core lately (and not in a good way). I know. You don't have to humor me (Shain). It turns out I'm quite terrible at balancing more than a couple of things in my life that require more than the attention span of your average Hills character. Also, my writer's off striking for the WGA and has been preparing for about a month. In support, I thought I'd come up with a list of TV shows to watch as the reruns will most likely begin at some point. Unfortunately, this blog will go into reruns too, so get ready for that post about how thongs make my butt hurt any day now. Or should I say fortunately? Semantics. Anyway, so clear out the old episodes of Law & Order:SVU and Good Eats, then get to your Netflix queue before the rest of America does. I think we're in this for the long haul.

Friday Night Lights - Duh! This show rocks my figurative balls off. Catch up and catch on.

Freaks and Geeks - Duh squared.

Arrested Development - Yeah, I've seen each season about four times each, but maybe this I won't be so stoned and/or buzzed that I'll remember. That I've made a huge mistake. By watching without being, well, you know.

The Wire - Maybe it's time to see what all the fuss is about.

The War - Dear Ken Burns, you went to Hampshire, so I feel compelled to be in your corner. For 15 hours.

Weeds - Mary Louise Parker is smoldering. Conrad is just ridiculous. Elizabeth Perkins is the best. Kevin Nealon isn't just for Weekend Update.

The British Office - And for good luck, Extras. Kate Winslet dressed up like a nun trying to lick her own nipple gets me every time.

My So Called Life - Mrs. Jordan Catalano. Someday, someday... I wish my hair smelled like oranges.

49 Up, etc. - Who doesn't love a good British documentary?

Well, it's a start. Questions? Comments? Concerns? Contributions? I think I might have to upgrade my Netflix account. The last strike went on for 22 weeks, or the amount of time I go between hair cuts. Date me! If you need me, I'll be buried under my comforter with my remote.

It's not me, it's me.

I've got a secret to reveal. You might be shocked to know that I've been in a relationship for some time now. It started off really sweetly - you know, just hanging out, laughing, liking ALL the same things, blah blah blah - it was amazing, I was in love. But recently, I dunno, I'm just not feeling it. Things are kind of getting a little stale. For example, the other night, we went to bed at 9.38pm and we were happy about it. Last night, we hung out and did laundry while drafting a spreadsheet of our fall TV viewing schedule and balancing the books to see if we can afford the 80 hour TiVo. (Seriously, how am I supposed to watch all of this? Contenders are: Lost, Pushing Daisies, Dirty Sexy Money, Weeds, Dexter, Tell Me You Love Me, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, The Office, 30 Rock, How I Met Your Mother, Cash Cab, Tim Gunn's Style Guide, South Park, Everything on the Food Network, The Sarah Silverman Program and of course, According to Jim.). Right, anyway, I'm bored. Restless. We never go out anymore. I mean, we go out, but it's just not the same because you always have to be home early because you have a "job" now or something. And we're constantly disagreeing over my drinking limit. We never do anything fun anymore, unless you count internet research about which kind of multi-vitamin I should be taking or silently reading back issues of Newsweek at Panera Bread over a bowl of French onion soup on a rainy Thursday night. Basically, this isn't working for me anymore - and I hate to do this in public, but, self, we're breaking up. I think we need some time to remember what brought us together in the first place. I'm pretty sure it was excess booze, loose morals, cream sauces and TMZ.com. Let's take this time apart to remember why we were together, ok? It's really important to me that we stay friends. I really care about you. Ok, good talk.

Oldie McBoringson

Guess what I am? Old and boring. How do I know this? The following is a list of things I either endeavor to do, or have done recently:

• shopped for two ply file folders at Office Max with Shain after we ate a sensible meal at BJs before going to Braum's for dessert
  
• got t-rashed off of three (3) watered down mojitos
• did work at home
• sat in my car to finish an All Things Considered story
• use some sort of fancy Clinique product under my eyes
• made a back up copy of my health insurance card
• got a new air filter and rotated my tires on a Saturday morning
• drove to work with the windows down instead of blow drying my hair
• watched a documentary - in a theater, then actually thought and talked about it
• took a (12) nap(s)
• drove to more than one gas station to comparison shop
• take flax seed pills (3 a day)
• bought the Blue Album (Weezer) and listened to it oh, 47 times in a row
• spent all Sundayevening grocery shopping and cooking dinner for the fam
• went to bed at 9.38pm on a Monday night

The thing that is disturbing is that I'm quite content with this. In fact, these are things I could do more of. Listen to NPR while hanging out in my bed Sunday morning? Sure. Read/drink coffee for hours at a book store? Sign me up. Alphabetize my old textbooks? Why the hell not. Hmm.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with the anniversary of this blog (but seriously, only because no one else is and I have to, it's contractual). SPOILER ALERT: this has the potential to turn into a sapfest. Either get out now or, yeah, just click the little x. But before you do, as this is my blog, I can use it for evil as well as good. In the words of Bobby Brown, it's my prerogative.

Last year was an extraordinarily bad year. I mean, mega shitteous. Coupla things: 1. tragically dumped by high school boyfriend of seven years/love of life (so I thought), 2. beloved dog Zealand stolen (and, unless you've raised a dog from a puppy, it's really hard to describe just how absolutely heartbreaking this was) as a result of my dumping, 3. sold myself out of gainful employment (long story), 4. moved back to Oklahoma from the remains of my seemingly happy life in Northampton, MA. I know people have been through worse, yes, but this was all so completely unexpected and expected. Anyway. Shitty. I started this blog while I was tinkering with spreadsheets at good ol' Yankee Candle as a way to kind of creatively get through this crappiness. A year later, it's strange to peruse the archives to see who I was and think about where I am now. Also, this is a good test to see if I know my months.

A year in the Blythe: a photographic and postographic retrospective.

September

I picked apples.

October

I went to a Halloween party in a barn. It was very New England. I do love Fall in New England. Something I already miss.

November

I met Augusten Borroughs.

December

I went home to the OK for Christmas. While Christmas is about family to most, to me it is about gifts. Too bad for me.

January

I decided to move home. Yup. That's all I'm gonna say about that. Oh, except that before I left, Party Cat (featured in November) got tape stuck in her ass.

(I suggest clicking to enlarge.)

February

I will be single forever! And ever! and ever!

March

I loved substitute teaching middle schoolers in Noble, OK. No, really. I actually did.

April

I got all nostalgic and shit.

May

Shain and I continue our tempestuous relationship.

June

I celebrated my the one year anniversary of my dumpage. Sometimes I can't believe I made it. Sometimes I can't believe I stayed with that kid for so long. Bygones! Also, L and I hung out a lot. This is when I starting thinking I would someday ask her to be my hetero life mate. This is also one of the best perks of moving home.

July

I got HPV(II).

August

I got old.

And now, well, looking back, it seems pretty mundane, but trust me. It was. Ok, seriously? It was a fucking awful year, but I think things are on the upswing. I really do. Well, as long as OU continues to dominate.

Um, yeah, so I'm kind of a big deal...

Sometimes, I check Sitemeter to make sure my mom's not reading as per our legal agreement. Guess what I learned when I logged on today? Bee-Spot has been nominated for a 2007 Okie Blog Award! I know, right? Obvs this is award winning blog (potentially/not). No? That's not what you were thinking? Oh. In any case, I'm truly surprised as I didn't threaten anyone to nominate me or anything. Not even my mom. I'm not sure how it happened (or why Mr. Shain didn't stop it because of his unbridled and unrivaled jealousy), but I'm relieved that I can now wear my "I'm kind of a big deal" t-shirt legitimately. And really, it's just an honor to be nominated because the bloggers of Oklahoma would have to be crazy not to vote for the The Lost Ogle, my favorite site re: the OKC.

Everything That's Happened To Me Since Wednesday or, Sorry to Disappoint, Crimenotes:

1. Work has kicked my ass. But I also might be offered a new job, which would result in less ass kickings and more $$. In the meantime, I am boring.

2. Ultimate extreme tragedy struck. My cell phone finally bit it. Bitch snapped in half. I, of course, followed suit. I had a total and utter meltdown Friday night that resulted in me drinking margaritas at Chili's. In a related story, I have lost everyone's numbers. To most, this would be absolutely devastating, but for me, it's ok, since I only have like three friends. But if you want me to call you or not screen your call since I won't recognize your number, send me an email with your digits, yo.

3. My dad runs on bacon. Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, my dad somehow managed to incorporate bacon into every meal prepared at the old homestead (no, Shain, I wasn't eating it - jerk didn't ask me if I wanted any). Now, don't get me wrong, I love me some bacon, but it's not really all that sexy to go out smelling like Waffle House.

4. See ya C-tina! C-tina made her brief, but triumphant return to Nompton before she departed for Slovakia for 10 months. We ate quiche at La Baguette just like the old days. We bought too much food at Forward Foods. We wandered around Guest Room Records for an hour. I bought Whatever and Ever Amen and was amazed that I still know every word to every song. We had ninth grade in my bedroom. It was wonderful.

5. I saw a movie. And a good one. I think. I might be the only one, though. Eagle vs. Shark played at the Oklahoma City Museum of Art. I was obligated to like it because Jemaine Clement is in it, so. Also, there were shark and eagle costumes. And most importantly, a supremely awkward relationship. All of those things are near and dear to my heart. The theater was really quiet, so I had to stifle my laughter quite a bit. That, plus my desperate need to pee, but refusal to get up proved to be a multi-media viewing experience. I'm fairly certain my viewing companion thought I was having a seizure. Which is cute right? No? If you can, see this movie. You'll like it. Oh, and then I went to this bar you'd also like. It's called Edna's. You can drink something called a Lunchbox. At first, I thought Edna's Lunchbox was akin to the Houston Ham Sandwich or Cincinnati Bow-Tie and was quite skeptical of the suggestion (but hey - I'll try anything once), but it's actually a delicious, yet cheap drink. That and other beverages required a trip to the bathroom. Which was fun, since there was only one stall and it had no door. Nothing like having to ask a random girl to guard your front. I did get felt up, though. I somehow always do in the ladies room. I dunno.

6. I bought a book. It's by Anthony Bourdain, of course. Is it weird I only read it before bed so I can dream of not (only) him, but the food?

7. I am contemplating the end of this blog. I am either depressed or thinking about being happy. I am no longer wallowing in abject misery, which seemed to be what worked best. What do you think?

My limit is three. THREE!

A note from the desk of Blythe: this post will be brief and unsatisfying, much like most encounters with me.

I have made a new rule for myself - the rule of three. Only three orange bejeweled skank shirts from Forever 21 in one outing, only three diet DPs at the office, only three viewings of Knotting Hill in one sitting, you get the idea. This also means only three drinks in one evening. Previously, I had made a pact to limit myself to three drinks per establishment, but I don't think that's going to work out. Last night, after a particularly easy day at the office, Lacey and I went out to dinner and stuffed ourselves with Mexican food. Delish times 4. We also had one ginormous margarita each - we totally got upsold by this creepy, yet charming waiter. Needless to say, we were a tad tipsy. I had planned to watch SYTYCD, but was informed that the results show would not be tonight and I just couldn't fathom waiting longer tan 24 hours to know who got the boot. It's a sleepless night already. So, I agree to meet up with high school friendish while he's in town for a drink. Let me just say that by this point, Margaritaville has taken the last train to Clarksville. Stone cold sober. But then I have a few Flying Dog whatevers and I launch into let me scare you with my life story mode. Poor kid. This is my least favorite of my drinking personalities. Blah, blah, blah I ramble about sushi, Native Americans and the War of Jenkins ear. Then it's pumpkin time and I'm ready to go. I start the epic search for my keys in the bottomless depths of my purse only to come up empty handed. They are simply not there and are simply in the ignition of my locked (totally sweet if you are into a totally lame) car. I am reduced to calling my little brother for a key, but he's out being cooler than I am and can't meet me for some time. So, high school friendish offers to take me home. I then realize that he probably thinks this is a line. Oh, I locked my keys in my car before I even started drinking, now you have to take me home.... But sadly, not the case, although, I might start using it. Fortunately, I was immediately distracted from this sad state of affairs by satellite radio. F-ing sweet! I need it. Like yesterday.

And then I found $5.

MY LIMIT IS THREE!

I'm cured! (SEMI SPOILER ALERT - literary, not near nudity)

of the HPV(VII)!! You may now speak to me about it.

On a side note, I want to get married sooo badly that I actually almost want to get married. Like to the first person that asks. And name my kiddos Lily, James, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Albus and Voldemort. I laughed, I cried, it was better than the Da Vinci Code.

Oh Harry! How I will miss you! Until the sixth movie or until JK most certainly begins to pen a lengthy prequel.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with love.

Perhaps it is the alignment of HPV [the movie, people - and yes, I saw it for a second time last night and yes, I spent a fair bit of the remaining night rereading HPVI in a red and gold scarf I knitted for the occasion and no, I don't have a boyfriend] and HPVII (the book). Perhaps it is the fact that my mother's cell went dead on her week long trip to visit relatives in the "resort" town of Galveston, Texas. Perhaps it is because the first OU game's like a month away or something and I've got tickets. Perhaps it is hearing from long lost friends. Perhaps it is sleeping with my windows wide open. Perhaps it is because I had a dream where I was actually on Red Eye. Perhaps it's knowing someone else loves to hate on Dean Blevins as much as me. Perhaps it is the impending visit of my great aunt and uncle who are driving down from Tulsa to distribute their emu oil, because yeah, my relatives run an emu ranch, to Dodson's Health Foods. Perhaps it is the word "incontrovertible," which I am really enjoying right now. Perhaps it is because I have pretty decent eyebrows that require little plucking (although, I do none) because I have enough other things to worry about. Perhaps it is the grand opening of Sooner Mall's Forever 21 (aka Hooker's R Us - or in my case, me). Perhaps it is tomorrow's farmers market. Perhaps it's tonight's drink that I will get all by myself like an adult at a bar after work because I am a grown up and can do things like that if I want.

But mostly, it's this fucking song that is making my robot heart leak oil like Lohan leaks drool when she passes out in Samantha Ronson's car. Fuck you Old 97's and your Zach Braffian ways into my heart.

Question - Old 97's

Whole Addiction

Since I have made my triumphant return to Oklahoma, I have done little more than enjoy the cheap beer and bitch about the lack of Whole Foods (and watch an alarming amount of HBO and dollar movies - hang out with me, I am so fun!). I just couldn't fathom how people here lived without an olive bar, stinky cheese case, patchoulied check out kids, and the possibility of buying in bulk. In fact, when friends visit places that do have a Whole Foods, they know to provide immediate documentation for fear of retribution.


This was snapped by Lacey on a recent trip to Beantown (although, I don't know which one this is - I always went to the one in Cambridge). She also picked up some lovely organic soap and two lip balms (vanilla with honey and tengerine!) of the Whole Foods brand - which I immediately used to replace my current soap and lip balm. Now, why would I replace perfectly good products? Because I am addicted to Whole Foods. I am conditioned to the idea of a Subaru driving, bike rack sporting, large breed dog walking, Costa Rica vacationing, luxury food item buying, self employed husband loving, and eventual Baby Bjorn wearing kind of life. I'm not proud of this. I blame Massachusetts. However, as Whole Foods continues to ignore it's northern neighbor (WF is headquartered in Austin) and as it was revealed that the CEO is a serious tool, I am over it. Turns out, Forward Foods, right here in Norman, can provide me with all the Boylan Seltzer and FAGE Total 0% yogurt that I need to sustain my ailing liver. Also, they have tons of cheeses and will give you samples! I bought some delightful Gouda yesterday. Delightful! Seriously, what is better than cheese? Olives (well, close second). They have olives. And pasta in bulk. And Mrs. Meyer's products so my whole life can smell like geraniums! I could have spent a lot of time in this tiny shop, but people were starting to look at me funny. Also, it's right next to the local record store, so I can feed all of my addictions (well, the legal ones anyway) in one stop. So, basically, screw you Whole Foods. I don't need you anymore. However, I wouldn't turn down a Trader Joe's. Not gonna lie. I could survive on an IV of the Roasted Corn Tortilla Chowder.

Because if I don't laugh, I will probably cry

not for any particular reason, just in general. Also, I'm trying to join The Shitty Bloggers Club, so there's that.

Last night was my first Sunday A.T. I've decided I'm not watching John From Cincinnati because I really don't like Cincinnati, so don't even ask. Entourage totally stepped up to the plate last night. There was no Lloyd, but that's ok because Billy Walsh was fucking brilliant. I'm wearing a scarf/turban as we speak. Word on the street is that the rest of the season starts sucking when the boys return to LA, but last night was pretty sweet.

After that I stuck around for the premiere of Flight of the Conchords. I've been listening to them for a while now and was thrilled about the prospect of a show. The show's been getting a lot of mixed reviews, but I thought I'd give it a shot. I found it to be quite hilarious. I might be the only one. I have what some have called "a retarded sense of humor" so I don't know if I count. Also, Bret is adorable. Just adorable. My favorite song is Jenny. My brother and I can do it in parts. It's pretty great. No, really.



Since I was already on the couch, I settled in for the Robot Chicken Star Wars Marathon thingy. It was a little slice of heaven. I laughed so hard I almost puked, mostly because I was hungover, but also because it was fucking hilarious. Just watch. Trust me.

Summer in the City

Norman, OK to be precise. I've decided to initiate a regular post in which I will suggest fun things to do in the Sooner State. I predict a max of three things per post. We'll see. I'm doing this more for myself than you (which is pretty accurate for most of this blog), but maybe you'll benefit a little. Who knows. If you live in Norman, get out there! Hell, give me a call, I'll see you there! If you don't, be grateful. This might be a horrible idea. I'm not sure yet.

Week of June 11:

Tuesday

-300 is at the dollar theater. I didn't see it in the theater and am half tempted. It's gotta be better than Hostel 2, right? Maybe not. 12:30, 4:05, 7:15, 9:50.

Wednesday-Harry and the Potters at Sooner Theater, 7.30p FREE. If you think that's dorky, check THIS out! If you're not on a sex offenders list, I would suggest at least entertaining the possibility of watching a couple of kids sing about Harry and co. It's kind of fantastic in an embarrassing kind of way. Poke fun if you must.
-Take your inner dork to the next level and learn to knit at the Happy Cat Yarn Shop.

Thursday
-Sunset Cinema - John Travolta night. Grease and Urban Cowboy for $5. Dusk behind the Melting Pot parking lot in Bricktown. I dunno. Could be interesting.
-Try some Red Hot Dutch Balls at Forward Foods. Buy some FAGE yogurt while you're there too. It's sooo good.

Friday
-Bricktown Blues & BBQ Fest @ corner of Sheridan & Oklahoma Ave. FREE! Food!
-Colourmusic and Ryan Lindsey at VZDs, 10p.

Saturday
-Farmers Market, 615 East Robinson, Norman, 8-12. Local produce and cheap too.
-Dim Sum at Grand House!
-Hosty Duo at the Deli. Always a good time.

Sunday
-Look at dinosaurs. Sam Noble Museum of Natural History. It's there. We should all check it out time to time.
-Laundry @ my house. Free!
-Black Rebel Motorcycle Club @ The Diamond Ballroom, 7p. Tickets $20. Too rich for my poor-ass blood, but maybe not for you.
-Hosty solo at the Deli. $3. Prepare to wait in line.