Blocked

I am currently suffering from an incredibly awful case of Blogger's Block. In order to get over this I plan to throw out random bullcrap just to see if this gets me over the hump. If it does, Hurrah! If it doesn't, well shit, I dunno.

From the 'I'm the best wife in the history of evar' file:

Thomas has been wanting some bling for a while now. We've wondered from shop to shop, store to store, trying to find the perfect accessory for him. You know the one. Blingy, yet not too blingy. Shiny, but something that doesn't scream, "Hey! I'm a guido! Just need a pinky ring and more chest hair and I'm good to go!". What better way to show your love for all things jewelry while still maintaining your non-douchebag status than to sport some lovely baby blue box bling?



Yes, I know, it's perfect. And even though his birthday isn't for another couple of weeks I couldn't contain my excitement. The day it arrived in the mail I proudly handed him the beautiful box and watched his jaw hit the ground. He knew exactly what it was before he even opened it.

Note the pillow the bracelet came wrapped around. In some places you buy a bracelet and it comes wired down to come piece of velvet lined cardboard. When you buy from Tiffany it comes with it's own PILLOW. And bag. AND box. Lord.Have.Mercy.


From the 'I too am growing tired of talking/hearing about my own weight loss' file:

I can't help it though, it's like I'm obsessed with it. I would bet you that I think about calories and carbs and protein and calories spent and workout routines at LEAST 8-9 hours a day. The rest of the time is filled with eating, sleeping, doing actual work, staring at the TV mindlessly, Mafia Wars, sex, and/or sleeping.

The eating itself is completely insane. I HAVE to eat in order to lose weight. Seriously. How insane is that?! It used to be that I would go one or two days without eating and I'd drop 10lbs like it was nothing. Now? HA! Yea, right. Now if I don't eat, I don't lose weight. I don't gain muscle, I don't lose fat.

Yes, I realize this is not a scientific breakthrough on my part. This has been known for many a years, BUT it's new to me.

I am so very very close to a HUGE goal. So close I can smell it, I can see it. It's hard though. If my eating isn't right I lose all energy. If I eat too much I feel weight down. Eat too little I barely have the strength to lift that curl bar once, let alone the three dozen times I'm supposed to. It's frustrating and exciting all at the same time.

The world outside of our home is a cruel place. Everywhere we turn is food that we shouldn't eat. Food that we can't eat. By can't I mean we can, but unless we want to live on Gaviscon and Pepto the rest of the night it's better that we abstain.

From the 'It's about damn time' file:

Let's all congratulate Thomas on his new writing endeavor - The Quest to be Broly: True Tales From A Non-Gym Rat.

In this blog we will follow my fabulous husband in his quest to become stronger, fitter, an healthier. However, not sexier because, you know, he's already at max capacity for that.

He is funny and witty and there are pictures! So go read it, dammit.


From the 'Welcome to Texas! Now let's drink beer and play with firearms' file:

Last weekend was my annual office Christmas party out on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. The greatest thing about being in the middle of nowhere is you can have bad aim and worst case scenario you might shoot a tree. Or a cow. Whichever.

You may find the entire set of photos here but these are a few of my favorites:


It was cold out there. Like super duper freezing red nose cold. The booze and the Baileys in my coffee definitely helped.


I think someone was feeling pretty good at this point. We all headed out to the field to get our shootin' on.


Moo


He is so very very gangster.


Ugh. Seriously. Must I cheese it up in every single fucking picture?


There we go. Much better. Bad ass status: Confirmed!


Speaking of bad asses...


The bad assness was short lived. Oh well. At least I look cute with my pink gun.


We are so super cute. Finished shooting, heading back to the house for warmth. And more beer.

AAACCCHHHOOO!!!11tybillion!!!

There are several downsides to working with people who have small children at home. Other than the standard blah blah bullcrap that you have to hear about on a daily basis ("Oh my goodness, little Johnny said just the most ADORABLE thing last night at dinner." Eyeroll eyeroll eyeroll eyeroll) there is the chance that at some point you will be infected with some sort of disease thanks to them.

You have to admit, kids are pretty gross. They don't cover their mouths when they cough or sneeze, they pick their noses, and they shit on themselves for the first 2 to 3 years of their life. They are small cheeky bundles of walking germ infestation. I'm saying all of this because I am sick. Sick sick sick. And I'm putting the blame solely on the people I work with and their spawn because it's my blog and I'll do whatever I want.

Moving right along...

The Christmas parties on Friday and Saturday were both a success. Thomas and I looked lovely on Friday night and spent the evening rubbing elbows with his co-workers and also making fun of the drunk people/uncoordinated people on the dance floor. There was a decent mixture of both. I would like to tell you that I have pictures of the evening but I do not. I do, however, have a picture of myself with Santa (dude had a real beard and all. I even tugged on it.) but I seemed to have brought my extra chin with me that night so that's a big n-o.

I did manage to stay sober at the party (at $6.75 for a Bacardi and Coke I couldn't even afford to get a decent buzz going) and we got home at a decent hour. The next morning was my office party that's held at my boss' ranch each year. A ranch that is almost an hour drive from the apartment. Such a far distance away that I even questioned the decision to go outloud in the car on the way for just lunch and a $100 cash bonus. "Lunch better be good", I told Thomas.

We managed to make it out to the ranch on time and being the only two people there without children both Thomas and I stood and watched as the kids were let loose to run and scream and cry all they wanted. I call it Visual Birth Control and it's quite effective. After lunch some of us made our way out to the fields to do a little shooting (what? you don't bring your guns to your company Christmas party?) and beer drinking. The party was great and it was by far the best I've ever been to since working at my office. The Bailey's in my coffee, the extra $100 cash bonus, and the man by my side made it even better.


Oh and of course there were photos!

Mo's Office Christmas Party -08'! Guns, kids, cows, and liquor - a photo set!

Guns And Beer

You may be thinking to yourself that guns and beer is just a bad mixture. It usually leads to someone getting a toe shot off and is bound to end up like a good episode of 'Cops', but that didn't happen to me. Only because I'm not completely white trash and because the guns and the beer were done on separate days.



Ah, Oktoberfest. And you're only seeing a small part of it! Thank God for the Germans.


I think this picture speaks for itself.


The mid-way. I heart carnies!


Inside the huge ass food tent. Live polka music, a turkey leg, a beer, and air conditioning. I was a happy girl.


See that beer right there? I had four of those that day. Ouchie.


While walking through the mid-way (pretty well toasted at this point) I eyed this banana and immediately said, "PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME!"* Thomas vowed to return to the booth and win his woman that damned banana. As you can see, he succeeded. My hero.

Because Thomas and I are such fans of overpaying for beer and food and being in the hot Texas sun for hours at a time we thought it would be a great idea to attend another Oktoberfest. Unfortunately this one was much smaller and the beer wasn't near as awesome in it's German-kick-ass-ness.


Smaller cups, pretty much the same price, and it wasn't Paulaner. Big strike against this particular Oktoberfest. However, you drink enough of those little ones and you really don't give a shit anymore.


Old men in short pants and suspenders. How cute.


This is what happens when I'm exposed to heat and too much beer. You put a fuzzy cat toy in front of my face and I bat at it.


This festival was held in a newly re-built downtown square of my town. Mom & Pop candy stores, boutiques, drug stores, courthouse, and awesome little restaurants. Sometimes living in an older smallish town has it's advantages.






This is one of my main bitches, Kimberly. I heart her, even when she's a whore.

Okay! Enough polka dancing and beer drinking...on with the guns!


OMG LOOK! It's me with my pink gun and matching ear muff thingies! SQUEEEEEE!


Someone isn't used to a cute girly-type gun.


Yea, that's more like it.


Srsly, I'm so ready to be a Charlie's Angel.


See? Look! My aim is pretty good too! Well, kinda.


Now that's a fine lookin' family portrait right there.


And that's a fine lookin' couple too.

For more photos follow the linkage...

Oktoberfest(s) 2008


*If you aren't aware of the awesomeness that is PEANUT BUTTER JELLY TIME then go ahead and smack yourself upside your head and then watch this...



I dare you to keep yourself from humming this for the rest of your day. I don't think it's possible.

Dammit, I Like Pink

I didn't realize until very recently that my last three major kick-ass purchases happened to involve the color pink somehow.







A pink iPod, a pink phone, and a pink gun - what more could a girl ask for?

I'm thinking the fondness for pink is starting to get out of control...

Have a great weekend, y'all. Pics next week of me shooting my gun and of the two different Oktoberfests that T-Dogg and I have attended. What can I say? We like beer.

Of Course I Took Pictures

Seriously, it's been just crazy, y'all. Since the merger and creation of R&S, Inc. we have been non-stop.

We now have three, count 'em 1-2-3, puppeh dogs in the apartment. Small, medium, and large (with a side of dumb). Walking all three at the same time all while maintaining peace and sanity have proved to be challenging but we are making improvements every day. Delighla has found a buddy in Bailey and I have found a snuggle buddy in Tank. Thomas is none-too-pleased that his dog has jumped ship and is now all about the Mo though. But can you blame the poor dog? I certainly cannot for I know how irresistable I can be. And lookit how cute he is...



Other than the regular adjustments that come along with living with someone new life is spectacular. Oh sure there was that time when he took complete control over the TV and stopped my recording of a 'Will & Grace' re-run on the DVR without asking me and then I had to say, "Uh dude? WTF?". He said, "Oh, haven't you seen all these?" and then I said, "Nope, and next time at least ask me if it's okay to stop the recording" and then he says, "Okay". Then there was the time when I bought a gun and he took it apart within 30 seconds of it being out of the packaging and I SWEAR I didn't think he was going to get it back together again and I was watching him fiddle with it, all scared because HELLO it was my gun and now it's all broken and I'm sad and when he finally got it back together again he asked me if I had been nervous about him not being able to fix it and I said, "Yes, only because I don't think you want to take that back to the dealer I bought it from and say, 'Sir, can you fix this? I broke my girlfriend's PINK girly gun'". Needless to say he didn't find that visual as amusing as I did. But you know what? I am one happy mofo. He brings me lillies that smell so good that they'll make your panties drop and he makes me delicious food and he rubs my feet and he puts his dirty clothes in the hamper. I'll take all that over a deleted tv show any day of the week.

Wait...what? Oh that's right, I forgot to mention...

I bought the gun! The pink one! And I don't care if the guy who sold it to me gave me shit it still goes BANG.

Look!



Photos to come of me actually shooting this beauty. It shall be glorious.

Now, the gun show. Wow. Just wow. I thought the last one Thomas and I went to was interesting. LOLOLOLOLOL no. Words cannot do this event justice, only photos...


Don't worry, I've already submitted this to The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks.


Now this guy? Whoa. We weren't sure if we should salute him or laugh at him. We chose laughing at him after we heard him speak with an Austrailian accent.

I would've taken more photos but I had to go all secret squirrel just to get those two. Apparently they frown on photos being taken of weapons or some bullcrap like that. I'm sure it's because of the terrorists. They're always ruining my fun.

Do Want

While walking through a local gun show this weekend I see this...




Me: OMG! It's a pink gun! A small! Pink! Gun! Want want want want want. It's so cute!

Him: ::eyeroll:: WTF pink gun? It's a gun! It's not supposed to be cute!

Me: But it is cute and it's pink! I wonder if the magazine comes in pink too.

Him: ::head explodes::



After walking around the show for a while we came back to this same gun. I had a 10 minute battle with myself over to buy it or not. I didn't buy it. I told him that we had to leave immediately or else I would. I pouted for the next 20 minutes because I denied myself. I'm such a damn baby.