Wednesday, May 26, 2010

She say "no run"

I've been trying to train Superdog into becoming a running dog.

I mean, look at that face. She WANTS to run.

Yes, PETA, I realize she's a 5-lb Chihuahua. I also realize she's a 5-lb bundle of uncontrollable energy on most days.

Seemed like a good plan to me. Start it slow with a half a mile and work our way up to an eventual two miles.

She's walked three miles with my dad before. Yes, she was absolutely exhausted afterwards, but she LOVES it. She really does.

So why wouldn't I think this was a good idea?

I started taking her for walks. Short, maybe .4 of a mile walks in the neighborhood. It was in the heat of the day, though, and she really didn't enjoy them. No biggie, I thought. We'll start running at night.

Last night was our first night to run.

At first...oh, she was SO excited. She was R-U-N-N-I-N-G! She sprinted uphill around a curve, loving every moment of the maybe 30-second run.

Then you could just see it in her eyes....oh....we're NOT stopping...oh...

I jogged down one street in our neighborhood, and she absolutely REFUSED. She was no longer ahead of me but way behind me, as far behind as the leash could reach. And she did not have a happy face on.

"Come on, baby, you got this!" I coaxed.

She was having none of it. So I slowed down.

When I slowed down, she could not BELIEVE that we were not heading immediately back to the house. But we kept going. And she quickly went from tired to mad.

Wouldn't even look at me.

We made it back to the house after one more short, 30-second jog. I opened the door to the house, and she happily went inside.

She had walked/run about .4 of a mile.

Maybe she's not ready to be a running dog just yet...

Monday, May 24, 2010

Lost and Found

The cataclysmic series finale of Lost will be debated for weeks, I’m sure. However, despite the chaos that ensued and shouts of joy (and despair) that were issued around multiple neighborhoods by the time it was over, the night was memorable for more than just the ending of a six-season event.

Why, you ask? Oh, the power went out.


Ninety minutes before Lost.

Apparently, there was a fire at one of the substations, and electricity throughout our hot, humid city was gone. Thankfully, it came back on about thirty minutes before the finale (despite the fact that we heard frightful rumors of a 9:20 p.m. estimated power return), but, as a tribute to a show that has consumed countless hours of my life, I’d like to dedicate this post to the Lost quotes of the night.

Husband and Rindy’s husband discussing options for TV-watching as everyone’s electricity in the city was still off…
Husband: Well, your best idea was to change pants!

After the power was on…
Husband: I can’t believe they got the power on so quickly. There must be some Lost fans working for the power department.

During a Victoria’s Secret commercia...l
Rindy: Where would people keep their money, if not in their bra?

During the finale…
Me: I’ve figured it out. They ARE going to end the series tonight, but there is going to be a spin-off. Called Found.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Quotes, Part...Whateverthispartis

Student: Well, you know what they say – for every one person who dies, three people get pregnant. Or maybe it’s for every three people that die, one person gets pregnant.
Me: You might want to check the stats on that again.

Friend, mad that Starbucks closed at 8 p.m.: We need our coffee, crackheads!

Student, as she hands me bubble wrap: Here. It’s cheaper than therapy.

Student, to me: If you don’t give me at least a B, I’m going to egg your house.
Me: Well, you have to find it first.

Student editor: I’ve called all around, and people keep telling me to call someone else. Seriously, it shouldn’t be this hard to find out who got busted for pot!

Female student: I think I must have a twin walking around on campus. Everybody asked me if I had a boyfriend because they thought they saw me walking around with a chocolate guy, and I said, “No, I like caramel…maybe chocolate every now and then.”

Watching MTV’s “True Life: Newlyweds,” where they discuss how most couples argue about money
Hubby: Do we argue about money?
Me: No. We don’t have any to argue about.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


T-shirts that annoy me beyond belief
I shouldn’t get this irritated when I see people with stupid T-shirts. Yeah, I said it. STUPID T-shirts. And mainly worn by guys. Apparently they never took the Dwight Schrute route, which is, “When I’m about to do something, I ask myself, would an idiot do this? And if so, I don’t do it.”

T-shirt I Hate No. 1
“The Game Over”

What self-respecting woman would let her boyfriend/fiancĂ©/husband wear this shirt? It really offends me to see a guy wearing this shirt. Not only do I just want to smack him in the head and ask, “Do you really think that marriage is a game, or are you trying to be cute? Either way, EPIC FAIL!” but I also want to find the lame chick he’s got wrapped around his finger and tell her that life is more than getting her MRS degree. NEXT!

T-shirt I Hate No. 2
“Can You See Me Now”

I saw a motorcyclist wearing this just this week, and, I’ll be honest, it was all I could do not to roll my window down while we were waiting at the red light and yell, “YEAH! And my best friend’s husband was in a motorcycle wreck!”
Here’s the thing. Sometimes, people aren’t paying attention while driving. This is REALLY bad, but it happens. And the lady who hit Dustin literally said, “I just didn’t see him.” Some neon orange shirt with a smart-aleck saying is not going to change that. It’s just going to make me want to ram you.

T-shirt I Hate No. 3
“Booty-licious” (apparently)
I don’t have a picture of this (because, frankly, I was a little nervous about what might come up when I typed in a keyword on my work computer) and it’s not a T-shirt. But why are little girls (anyone under 15) wearing super short shorts with words such as “booty” or “fine” or whatever the heck people have written across their rear ends now. Why? WWWHHHHHYYYYY?
Now, I also will admit that I have a pair of shorts with words written across them. They were free and they are not worn outside of the house, for multiple reasons. For instance, I do not wear them in the mall. Or at school. Again, WWWHHHHHYYYYY?

Now, however, there are some T-shirts that I super heart.

T-shirt I Love No. 1A
“The Dogfather”

Oh my gosh, who DOESN’T love the idea of a Chihuahua Godfather? Too precious (and a little scary).

T-shirt I Love No. 1B
“Real Men Love Chis”

Of course, they do. I don’t know why they added that disclaimer at the bottom, though.

T-shirt I Love No. 2
“The Lost Geek”

I know you’re out there…

T-shirt I Love No. 3
“This is not a pipe”

Sigh…Oh, I can’t wait for June 1, when I will order this shirt and wear it Sunday nights as Hubby and Hubby’s friend play Super Mario while Rebecca and I watch.

Friday, May 14, 2010


I’m coming to the end of a year long sentence.

On June 1, 2009, I stopped buying clothes. The last article of clothing I purchased was a beautiful $40 pink and green top from a downtown boutique. I loved that shirt. Unfortunately, because Hubby forgot to take the ink pen out of his pants pockets (or, as he would say, I forgot to check his pockets…but this is another story for another time), the beautiful shirt faced a black death sometime around August. I teared up.

I made this decision after reading about our young adults minister, Jason, taking this on. When I heard about his choice not to buy clothes for a year, I realized something: I have an abundance of clothes. I don’t need any more. I definitely want more…but aren’t there more important things to be concerned about in life?

Plus, I had been splurging on twice a month Sunday shopping trips that needed to cease, especially as my hubby was about to quit his job and pursue school full-time. So after about two weeks of asking myself, “Can I really do this?” I took the plunge.

What a year.

Granted, I have been BLESSED beyond measure and gotten to somewhat cheat – my mom, thinking that my reason was solely based on financial reasons, I think, has purchased me several new items of clothing, including much needed (by about December) undies. Bless her soul. For my birthday, my husband took me to Academy, where I was able to add a couple of new sports bras to the two I already had (Obviously, before this running kick, I didn’t exercise much…at all…). And for Christmas, my mother-in-law got me a gift certificate to an athletics store, where I purchased some running clothing. So it’s not been too bad in that aspect.

In addition, while I didn’t lose any weight running, I did lose dress sizes, so all the old clothes in my closet that I hadn’t fit into since I got married – ta da!! New clothes!!

Well, sort of. I was very put out when I tried on several gorgeous work dresses from last year and found that they just hang on me this year. They’re at least two sizes two big – and that includes one of my favorites! I’m distressed. (And, as a side note, if anyone wants to be a BIG help and take in the dresses for me, I would love you forever and buy you all sorts of Maggie Moos ice cream…)

Last summer was really hard. I’d go shopping with friends…and they’d buy new clothes…and I wouldn’t. To make myself feel better, I’d buy Hubby some new shirts (apparently I have a shopping problem), but over time, even that faded.

I’m not a shopper anymore. I’m straight up just not interested.



There are a few items I am super psyched about purchasing come June 1:

Lingerie. I would kill for a new, sexy nightgown about now.

That yellow shirt in the store window of that same boutique where I bought my last shirt. The store is actually going out of business, and I’m crossing my fingers that they stay open until June 1.

High heeled shoes. I’m jonesing here.

An actual sleeveless running shirt. Not the undershirts I’ve been wearing. A real no-sleeved running shirt.

It’s really been a good experience/experiment for me. And, thanks to kind family members who’ve helped me semi-cheat, it hasn’t been hard. At first, my mind went others-focused as I tried to purchase items for other people, such as my Hubby. But over time…I went on one shopping trip to Stage recently with a friend. Other than that…I couldn’t tell you the last time I’ve shopped.


Anyone want to join me June 1? ;)

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Make love, not war?

I take issue with a saying written on the walls of one of our buildings on campus: “Make a new friend. Hug a stranger.”

Don’t even think about it.

It’s not that I don’t like hugs. I actually love them – but I’m one of those weird, don’t-touch-me-and-I-won’t-punch-you-in-the-face people. I’m not a close talker. And I don’t like people I’m not close with to touch me. In any way. In other words, HANDS OFF!

I can’t imagine what I’d do if some random stranger walked up to me, hugged me, and then said, “Hello, friend.” Actually, he probably wouldn’t get to the speaking part because he’d already be on the ground.

And, yes, I get the greater point of the message of, “Hey, be nice to someone today.” But can’t we put that instead of something encouraging creeps to rejoice? (And, yes, there are probably some sane people in that category, but let’s be honest: sane people are few and far between. I’m not sane. Obviously.)

The designers of this building wrote the saying on the wall – it was not graffiti written by some random student. It was purposeful and included with several other words of wisdom…words of wisdom? Wait, they may need to rethink that.

It’s different when you see a sign for a campus ministry that says “Free hugs!” Actually, that’s kinda neat. They’re offering hugs; you can choose to say yes to a hug (therefore knowing of it in advance) or say no (if you still are a bit creeped out by hugging a stranger). That’s sweet. Randomly going up to a stranger and hugging them? Not so much.

See, this is why journalists need to rule the world. We teach our students to think of every conveyed meaning in headlines, in stories, in pictures to make sure that people can’t make something more of our writing than what it is.

Again, like I said, I get the greater meaning behind the message. Make love, not war; don’t worry, be happy; blah blah blah.

But it doesn’t mean that it was presented well. Or that I have to like it.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Skinny pregnant people turn me green -- with envy

I’m always a little jealous of those pregnant women who still wear a size zero. Or two. Or four. Heck, if it’s below double digits, I’m jealous.

You see the ones. They were stick thin before they got pregnant and then they’ve just got this round belly where everyone automatically knows – no, they didn’t gain weight, they’re pregnant.

(Because one of my biggest fears when I get preggo is that people are just going to think, “Wow. She really let herself go, didn’t she?”)

(As another sidenote, no, we’re not trying to get pregnant. Unless you count Patricia Hattie Darcy – aka Ph.D. – as our baby with a three-year incubation time.)

I’m in that stage in life where everyone and their mama it seems is having babies. Remember that blog near Christmas where everyone in my Sunday school class was pregnant? Well, their babies have arrived – and the mamas are GORGEOUS.

Like drop dead model gorgeous.

I seriously thought about posting pictures, but I felt that might be rude without notifying the people in them. Amy, you’re one, though. Lindsey and Rebecca -- you're both hot mamas. Misti, your sister was definitely one. I’ve never seen a new mama who’d delivered a child hours earlier still look dang sexy.

How does this happen, and how can I work this out?

My mom was a hot pregnant lady. She did everything the doctor told her to do because she had experienced two miscarriages previous to me, so she was extra cautious – but only gained seven pounds (‘Course, she had pre-gestation diabetes, too, something I’d very much like to avoid.). My aunt was a gorgeous pregnant lady, too.

I’m crossing my fingers and hoping those particular birthing genes run through me.

Heck, my mom even had NATURAL childbirth. And I don’t mean, “Oh, she just didn’t have a C-section.” No, NO DRUGS, NADA, NOTHING. And what did she tell me about childbirth? “It’s not that bad.”

I plan on having the drugs on standby. You know, just in case.

I’ve heard I can still keep up my running through most of my pregnancy, which sounds pretty swell. I’m hoping that helps. But you know what else is going to help?

Make up.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Release your inner nerdiness

I gotta take a deep breath for this one.



I’m a closet Star Wars fan.

Oh, but my total nerdiness does not stop there. I’m also a closet Star Trek fan. I can probably name every Star Trek captain shown on TV.

Oh, dear. Was that a blush that just crept up on my cheeks?

Millions of us (according to exist. We are the secret nerds, the ones that know the characters, know the plot twists, and, heck, all the space-time-continuum-crazy-time-travel stuff – yeah, we get that, too. Because we know and even like the show.

But we are not Trekkies. Or whatever you call Star Wars nerds.

We just like a good sci-fi flick. That’s all. But because of people like the one I saw at the pizza place yesterday, we suffer in silence.

Hubby and I were picking up a pizza, and I waited in the car. As I looked around the parking lot, specifically where the employees park, I saw a vanity license plate that caught my eye:


Sadly, I hate to admit that it took me a while to get what it said (“Use the Force”), but when I did, I died out laughing. I mean, SERIOUS NERD ALERT here!! In fact, I decided to pull out my camera phone and take a pic of this one-of-a-kind plate (FYI, I actually do take pictures of funny license plates – I have several stashed on my phone that crack me up on any given day.).

I was not shy about my picture-taking, either. In fact, I was pretty much one step from just stepping out of the car and going over to get a better picture. Unfortunately, my phone pic did not turn out well, so after several failed attempts to get a clear shot, I gave up.

Probably two minutes later, a skinny dude wearing a Hawaiian shirt (Let’s remember we’re not in Hawaii. Stacy and Clinton need to get him on the show.) comes out holding a pizza and heads near the car. He DEFINITELY looks like he could be the owner of The Force (the name I have given said vehicle). However, he does not head to the driver’s side, so my next assumption was that he drove the Prius next to The Force.


Wrong, wrong, wrong.

He gets into the passenger seat of The Force. The driver, turns out, had been in the vehicle the entire time. And probably saw me laughing my silly head off as I tried to get a good picture via my camera phone.

But you know what? I decided I did not care if The Force’s driver saw me or not. Why? Because I’m a closet Star Wars fan. And it’s people like that who keep me in the closet. So there.

I might even stick my tongue out for good measure.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

I’m starting to think they don’t like me…

It started with Professor A.

I’m trying to take an independent study course this fall. This is beneficial for several reasons: 1) I get to work on my methodology section for my dissertation. 2) I get a chance to possibly work with a professor I haven’t had a class with yet. 3) I don’t have to actually “go” to class. Repeat: I DON’T HAVE TO GO TO CLASS.

In other words, I’m a big fan of the IS.

But I’m starting to feel like the black sheep of the Ph.D. program. First, I went to Professor A. He suggested about five other professors because, as he said, “They have more experience with your subject matter (political communication) than I do. But if you need me to teach you, I will.” No thanks, friend, I’ll find someone else. It’s cool.

Head to Professor B, who had good reasons for not teaching me. He doesn’t have much experience with political communication or qualitative research, which I’m conducting. Still cool. He assured me, though, “We’re not going to leave you orphaned without someone to teach you an IS class.” He then recommended another professor, the head of the department, actually, whom I hit up today.

Professor C: “You know, why don’t you try Professor D? She graduated from LSU, and you know they have that really good political communication program down there…Tell her I told you to contact her.”

SERIOUSLY??!! By now, I feel like I’ve struck out. But I’m hoping that D will be the winner. She is from LSU (I’d say “Go, Tigers!” but about 10 people might kill me. Maybe, “Go, Louisiana!”?). She loves sports (even though she’s a Cubs fan, but thank goodness she’s not a Yankees fan…right, Brooke? LOL). So maybe this is a winner.

We’ll see. Someone else everybody keeps recommending to me is that crazy professor I’ve had this semester. You know, the one who made me want to knock my head up against a wall? Yeah, her. I’ll go through the whole mass com list first.

And it’s looking like I may have to.