It turns out that I am alive.

However, Christmas has sent me into a sadness spiral.

Dear David Simon, I would like my life back.

The Wire, the much acclaimed HBO drama, is slowly sucking what little life I have during this holiday season out of me. If you haven't yet enjoyed, I encourage you to Netflix it and settle in while it's all shitty outside. It's kind of heavy, but sometimes irreverent and most likely always more accurate than we'd like to think. It's gritty in the best way, simultaneously infuriating and heartbreaking. Kind of like Christmas.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Two things edition.

1. Sometimes I wear dresses to work. Like today. I find them easier access for the 10bajillion times I have to pee in the course of a day and I am too lazy to pick out skirt/pants/top combos that match most days, as those who know me can attest. Today, I have tights on under my dress, because, well, it's cold, yo! Do you know what happens when you wear this combo? Sometimes, you sit in your chair, because of the tights covering your ass, you don't realize your dress is no longer covering your ass, e.g. I just showed the office my little more than fishnets covered ass. Sweet! And apologies.

2. I am a huge HUGE fan of Pandora. If you do not yet avail yourself of this site, please do so now. I'll wait. Ok, now that that's taken care of, I have finally, after months and months of searching, discovered the perfect station. Belle and Sebastian can do no wrong today. Try it, you'll like it.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with blogs! Just not mine. Mine sucks more than Giuliani as president. So, while I rework things, or wait for something funny to happen to me, or continue to be lazy, what are the best blogs I'm not reading? I really do try to make it through my blogroll every couple of days to see what's going on out there, but I know there's so much more. So tell me. Or else.

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.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

actually, more like toleration in this case. Christmas blows on a lot of levels. Last night, I had settled in for 30 Rock and a rerun of The Office, not to mention a new Scrubs (and yes, I realize I am the only person who likes and watches this show) when Mother Bee-Spot called in a panic. Yesterday morning, she awoke me to let me know I needed to be home that night to help her wrap gifts. I asked her which gifts she had recently purchased, because the shopping I had done included only gift cards. Five of them. But it was the gift cards she was stressing over. Wrapping effing gift cards. I ignored her. Back to the emergency phone call. She wants me to go to Wal-Mart (during my shows!) to pick up more ribbon so she can finish her wrapping effort. WHAT? Naturally, Shain and I head to Super Target at 10pm. Naturally, afterward, we head to Sonic where Shain orders the following: Sonic Blast with Butterfinger, no whipped cream; small vanilla Coke; five piece Cheesecake Bites (read fried cheesecake cubes). That's right. He also suggested that if anyone ever tries to assault me, all I need to do is put on a headband a la our super rere video and it will thwart any attackers. You're the best Shain. Really. I'll see you tonight. In the meantime, here's a little number that always helps me tolerate this terrible time of year. This is for you, far-flung Oklahomans. Sing it.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Stupidity

It doesn't take much to keep me alive (with a little extra for good measure). Namely sugar free Red Bull, Gerolsteiner, Fage Total 0% yogurt, and apples. I consume each of these (almost) everyday in some order. This is weird, I know. This morning, I had them all lined up in front of my at my desk (right next to my Nalgene of water, Bigelow's Rose Salve, bottle of Motrin, Nivea Creme and picture of Michael Cera) and noticed something was off, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I cracked open my Red Bull, swallowed four Motrin, hand cremed, lip balmed, then peeled the lovely parchment back from my Fage and ate a spoonful. More delicious than ever! That's when I realized the truth. It was not Fage Total 0%, it was Fage Total (original). 20 grams of delicious, delicious fat! I immediate threw the container the four feet to my rubbish bin (FYI - I will totally consume that much fat, I'm not one of those girls, obvs, but I don't think I can do it at 8 in the morning and ruin my whole day of Christmas candy eating and hot chocolate drinking - 'tis the season!). As soon as it hit the bottom, hard, the super yogurt immediately flung itself all over me - hair, cashmere sweater, chair, keyboard... This is not a good look. And I am heartbroken. I bought quite a few of these little buggers. If you're in the area, please contact me for several containers of Greek goodness.

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Cringesday: Deck My Balls

*UPDATE - Cringe this: So, I was just told only moments ago that I (me!) can have a membership to Sam's (Club) courtesy of work! How happy am I?! Really happy! Why? Because, seriously, there is nothing more wonderful than buying in bulk. Last time I had a Costco membership, I actually bought white gravy mix in bulk. Oh damn. It's gonna be a good year.

You know what Christmas means to me? Besides utter disappointment and those delightful chewy peppermint candies, the ones in the plastic wrappers with little Christmas trees on them, I think they come in both green and red (!) it means that I can freely listen to Mariah Carey's masterpiece, "All I Want For Christmas Is You." Truth be told(and that's not what we're really about here, so don't get used to it) I listen to this little diddy all year. In honor of the season, I present you with a brief list of the totally ridiculous things I want for Christmas. My material gluttony is quite embarrassing.

Le Creuset Cookware - Yes, I know these items are tremendously expensive, but I am a jerk. So what.



National Geographic subscription - The exbf's dad used to get me this as an annual gift. It was pretty sweet. I guess the new chick's getting it now.

Rabbit Corkscrew - Not to be confused by the other rabbit.

Cooks Illustrated subscription - Yes. I like to read, drink and cook. Call me. Let's go out. I'm so much fun.

Cashmere leggings from J. Crew - My ass looks just like this! Except not at all. Not even a little. Dear J. Crew, really? $150 cashmere leggings? What are you trying to do to me and my bank account?



Planet Earth DVD Set - Because I don't already watch enough TV. It's educational. Blow me.

Harry Potter Box Set - Hi, I'm a totalus nerdiamus.

Expensive girly underwear from Anthropologie - since my clothes are from the clearance rack at the GAP or F21.

So, if you are planning to purchase any of these items for your favorite blogstress (more likely, you've stumbled on this page while googling "Shain's lady garden"), please email me for sizes and my address. Seasons blessings and all that crap.

Zack Harrison Memorial Monday

I had kind of a ridiculous Monday. So, this is happening on a Tuesday. I know you're crushed. Or not. Whichever. Ok, so some random songs rumbling around my brain and/or in my iPod:

Prodigal Son - Two Gallants

Dream A Little Dream Of Me - Mama Cass

Two Headed Boy - Neutral Milk Hotel

Myriad Harbour - The New Pornographers *the line about PS1 is so genius, it blows my ungenius mind like every time.

Lebanese Blonde - Thievery Corporation *they've been playing this on NPR after segments about the Middle East. seriously.

Scythian Empires - Andrew Bird

Me Gusta - Manu Chao

Waiting Line - Zero 7

Love Love Love - The Mountain Goats

Ready Or Not, Here I Come - The Delfonics

Winter Windows - Sea Wolf

Kingdom of Doom - The Good, The Bad and The Queen

Girl Talk - Bounce That

Take The Skinheads Bowling - Camper Van Beethoven

Parentheses - The Blow

Let's Get Out Of This Country - Camera Obscura

Your Rocky Spine - Great Lake Swimmers

You see that?

Yeah. 38-17. Fuck you BCS. Even though I don't really understand how you work. And I suspect I am not the only one. In the meantime, have fun figuring out what to do as both W. Virginia and Mizzou got their asses handed to them. You know what I do know how it works or something? A bottle opener.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

Dear Claire,

You are, in spite of being totally neurotic and possibly part dingo, the best dog in the world. We've had probably the most continuously successfully relationship these past seven years that I've ever had. Yeah, you eat your own puke, but you're also eternally excited to see me when I return from a trip to the grocery store (to buy diet coke and stupid girl magazines, most likely) or from being away for an entire semester. Much to my relief, you have aged beautifully and healthily. This was confirmed by the vet a few weeks ago - the best teeth she's seen in years! That's my girl. You whimper and squeal with excitement like a puppy even when I'm just putting my socks on, in anticipation of a walk. Your enthusiasm is simultaneously annoying, ear drum busting and totally endearing. You seek me out during thunderstorms or when someone's vacuuming because I assume you're scared, which is weird, but I like it. You have bat ears. You are them most aesthetically pleasing mutt I've yet to encounter. You have horrible manners. You refuse to eat vegetables or grains unless they're doused in butter or cheese. You could be a professional watch dog. For better or worse, our evening walks are often the highlight of my day. You have a white diamond shaped patch of fur right in the center of your forehead. You always wedge yourself between me and whoever might be on my bed (mostly Lacey, and we're watching Project Runway or A Shot at Love with Tila Tecrappo). I will be forever grateful that I summoned some figurative balls and lied to my parents about finding you on the side of the road in Noble, Oklahoma (we both know I really picked you out from a pile of wriggling puppies caked in red dirt at a farm with a Jolly Green Giant Statue on the front lawn) when I brought you home as an eight week old puppy New Years Day 2000. Your head is laying on my knee right at this moment. I can feel you breathing through my jeans. You melt my heart on a daily basis. It might be silly, but I love you.

Almost famous, except not at all.

Do you ever have one of those days where you got inebriated Saturday night, passed out face down on your bed, drooled like LiLo and Hooch (or was it Turner?) combined and gave yourself a zit that's keeping you from social engagements so you're at your computer (with Proactiv goo all over your face) and you decide to check Technorati to see if anyone's noticed that you have a blog then you find out that a couple people have? That just happened to me! I am 1/1,583,921.24 of the way on my way to being famous/infamous/not famous!

Dear Shain, if you ever do anything like this again, I will tell everyone your big secret. YOU LOVE OKLAHOMA!

Cajun Boy in the City - Make.It.Stop.

Dear Lost Ogles, you guys are my favorites. Especially Patrick.

The Lost Ogle - All I Want For Christmas

This might seem conceited. To which I say, hi, do we know each other? Also, this might be the most recognition I ever get until I'm arrested for stalking Ira Glass.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Trumpet Triumph

Perhaps it is because my father is a trumpeter who raised me on a steady diet of Miles Davis and Blood, Sweat and Tears, but regardless of the cause, I do love a smidgen of trumpet in my music. Behold what I have found to be songs with delicious trumpet bits - some old, some new, most things I've forgotten or left out. Help!

Short Skirt Long Jacket - Cake: Now, there are several Cake songs that would qualify. In fact, maybe all of them. Perhaps this is why Cake is so dear to me.

Elephant Gun - Beirut: Dude, this kid's for real.

Does Anybody Really Kow What Time It Is? - Chicago: No.

Message to You - The Specials: Summer! Except it's winter.

Your Place - Zero 7: Hang in there till the end.

So What - Miles Davis: It simply does not get any better than this.

Move On Up - Curtis Mayfield: Good for dancing like an ass in cold garages.

The Underdog - Spoon: I'm contractually obligated to suggest a Spoon song every four posts.

While You Were Sleeping - Elvis Perkins: It's at the end. Comforting, somehow.

Fly Me To The Moon - Frank Sinatra: I've already talked about this one before, I think.

Spinning Wheel - Blood, Sweat and Tears: Holy baby Jesus! I'm having a personal Chicago and BS&T revival.

All You Need Is Love - The Beatles: Again, a few to choose from, but I like this best.

The Wrong Girl - Belle & Sebastian: I really love them more and more daily.

Alone Again Or - Love: I once knew this kid/man who thought he was Arthur Lee. He was pretty damn close.

The Henney Buggy Band - Sufjan Stevens: Marching band!

Grazing in the Grass - Hugh Masekela: I wish I had a convertible.

When It Don't Come Easy - Patty Griffin: Ouch. My heart.

Holy balls,

I might possibly have the worst hangover of my long and storied history of hangovers (How did I sustain this hangover? Two words. Beer pong. And also bars. And peer pressure. And dancing around in a garage to Curtis Mayfield.). Not even McDonald's (my disgusting hangover remedy, whatevs, you do it too) has helped, in fact, I think it hurt. Definitely hurt. All I have managed to do today is smear last night's mascara all over my pillows, give my self a rash from drooling during intermittent and involuntary naps while watching Planet Earth in a whimpering pile buried beneath my comforter trying not to vom. But you know what? It can't feel as bad KU must feel about now. Or OSU for that matter. Gundy, I thought you were a "man." And Mangina, looks like your easy ass schedule finally caught up with you. We will beat you, Mizzou, and then we're on our way to the Preparation H Fidelity Nabisco Taco Cabana FedEx/Kinkos Diet Coke with Lemon Halliburton Bowl! Which is not the championship, but oh well.

Cringesday: Thanksgiving Edition.

It still looks like this. Sad.

Hey folks. It's that time again (Wednesday, or when I feel like "writing" a post). I think I'm the only person working today. But that's cool. I get paid a lot. Except not at all. While you are battling O'Hare, JFK, I-95 or I-35 and the like, I am all warm and cozy, basking in the glow of my computer screen, preparing myself for the big day. Which will occur tomorrow afternoon at 3pm and, yes, at the south side Steak & Ale with Mom, Dad, Dad's parents (my grandparents) and my mom's brother. My brother is working. Nice one. Assface. And yes, these grandparents - so it's sure to be a riot. Or actually cause a racially motivated riot. Either way, I get prime rib and a baked potato for Thanksgiving. Save me. Adopt me.

In which this blog is not unlike the Sooners: A post in three or some number of parts.

Act I: The season started out so promising. We had a little bit of trouble with a little bit of Colorado. But then, good news! Everyone started sucking balls! Now, including us. WTF, man. Sam! Halzle! Jesus Christ on a stick. Or whatever. I can't even talk about it. Really, I can't. Except, WTF are we paying you for, Stoops? To lose to effing Texas Tech? I don't think so. Kansas, ok, maybe because, ostensibly, they are as good as we are. Tech?!?@$*(@ You might have led us to a championship, but you've also presided over some of our worst losses. Nut up, dude. De-red shirt someone. Ask someone from the crowd to be the quarterback - like the guy who throws it through the target to win $1000 from Jason White's dealership. I can't wait to lose to OSU this week. If you don't hear from me by Wednesday of next week... A malaise fell over Norman Saturday night that not even $2.50 Shiners could and L's dad's Grateful Dead (The Jamminators!) cover band could cure. Oh, how the mighty will fall. Like this blog. One minute I'm nominted for an Oklahoma Blogger award™, the next, Sitemeter reveals that only five people read. And by people I mean Google searches for "Zach Braff's tight pants."

Part II: I can't believe I forgot to mention this! Last weekend, I left my neighborhood at about 7 to grab coffee at Starfucks before Shain and I headed of to judge a high school debate tourney (suck it). I should mention, it was exceptionally foggy this morning. Like, can't see anything. I approach the intersection where I need to make a right. I have a green light. As I'm gently nudging the gas, suddenly, this bike flies across through the intersection causing me to slam on my brakes (I wasn't going that fast, but still) and I come eye to eye with - guess! Wait for it, the exbf's mom! I almost ran her over! Ha! I mean, oops.

C) I have a habit of singing in the bathroom at work because, well, the acoustics are fucking fantastic in there. The lighting makes me look like old school Courtney Love, but the tiles make me sound like Kelly Clarkson. I wasn't really aware that my voice carried beyond the bathroom till I walked out and was greeted by a coworker who suggested, humorously, I choose to believe, that I save it for karaoke night. I'll show you karaoke.

4: Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday! - This is my latest commute mix.

Oh My God - Mark Ronson and Lily Allen: Oh my God I can't believe I like this song.
A Baby For Pree - Neutral Milk Hotel: What does it even mean?
The Anglo-Saxons - The Mountain Goats: Remember that cartoon show about history? I can't remember the name, but it was pretty much awesome.
I'd Love You - Sonya Kitchell: I would.
Superstar - Lupe Fiasco: I am.
Scattered Leaves - The Be Good Tanyas: This chick sounds like Shakira. But I like it anyway.
Mornington Crescent - Belle & Sebastian: This one's for you, Shain. Thanks for abandoning me. No, really.
The Temptation of Adam - Josh Ritter: Seriously! Why am I just getting into this guy now?
Blue Eleanor - Old Canes: I dunno. Just like it.
Needles in My Eyes - Beta Band: Puts me in a happy trance.
Oh Lately It's So Quiet - Ok Go: These guys are more than just a treadmill dance troupe.
Arcade Precinct - 1990s: What? Yeah, it's kind of awful.
Mansard Root - Vampire Weekend: Surprise! I'm in love with this! And they're coming to Norman!
Hold On - KT Tunstall: Yes. This has been or will be used in a comical montage featuring McDreamy, George, Izzie, and/or Addison. Blow me.

Section 5.1.3: The WGA and corporate TV America have got us by the balls. And we are letting them. Did you know that The Office is probably over for the season? The last new episode aired last week. Scrubs might not finish the series (Will JD and Elliot end up together? Will we ever meet Kelso's Edith? I just have to know!). And so on and so on with shows from Comedy Central to the CW. And we are letting them. So, I propose a strike against TV in general. Fuck them! We can read! Knit! Ride bikes! Smoke weed and look at fish tanks! Poetry readings! Concerts! Shows! Blogs! TV? We don't need no stinkin' TV. I'm totally serious. Until The Real Housewives of Orange Cunty are on. I love that show.

Act VI: Happy Birthday Mom! You said you don't read, but I know you do. I'm glad you were born so you could bear me.

Reason number 198.3 why I hate U2

Today, at work, I was listening to www.wrsi.com (The River - adult alternative, like me) and they played a (fucking) U2 song. Now, don't get me wrong, Bono Nobel Peace Prize Hungry Edge Children In Africa Bill Live Aid Clinton Nuclear Proliferation Cowboy Hat Sunglasses and all that stuff, dude. "Uno, dos, uno-dos-tres-catorce!" Seriously.*


*I can only imagine that there have been countless observations years ago on this subject, but this was my first epiphany, so suck it.

Cringesday: Failure At Funny Edition

Last night, Shain lured me over to his house under the pretense of, fine, I kind of knew what was about to happen. He wanted to film me watching this video or something. What else am I going to do on a balmy November night? Oh right. Walk my dog forever and play with the new make up I got with Lacey. Which explains why I look like a street walker nearing retirement in this video. I can't make excuses for my lame comments. I can say that I'm much prettier in person and Shain is actually much less prettier in person. Here's the link, if you dare. And I wouldn't.

Two Girls One Cup, We're Not Funny