If we’re going to be, or stay, friends there are a few things you probably need to know upfront.

1. If you give me a gift, and it’s in a pretty bag, there’s a good chance I’m going to keep it and use it the next time I have to give someone a gift. Yes, I’m a bag recycler. I said it.

2. I can’t go shopping with anyone besides P. Ever. I can have good intentions and really try to shop with friends but I just can’t and I end up wandering aimlessly, totally surrendering to the fact that I will not find something. I have no idea why.

3. I’m pretty sure I have a small degree of ODC. I am always afraid of leaving my straightener plugged in all day so I have to check, and recheck about three times before I can finally walk out the door. If it’s going to be a really long day away from the house, I’ve also been known to take a picture of the outlet to reassure myself that I really did unplug it and will not burn the house down.

Wow.

Pretty sure I divulged just a tad too much there.I’m confident you all think I’m crazy now. Or even crazier?

Moving on…

4. If we ever went on a road trip and we made the joint (AWFUL) decision that I would be the one to drive I would likely definitely get us lost. I’m one of the most spatially challenged people I know. It’s a talent, really. In my defense- unless the sun is rising or setting how in the WORLD are you able to know the cardinal directions!? I mean if it’s high noon and the sun is shining brightly in the “middle” of the sky are you freaking telling me that if I’m stranded in a jungle I’m going to know I’m headed due north!? I think not. Geez. Thankfully, there’s an app for everything.

5. I honestly do not think any dessert could ever be “too rich” and it annoys me when people say it. I’ve finally had to come to grips with the fact that the annoyance is me, because, after all, there are probably desserts that are “too rich.” However, it hasn’t deterred me from rolling my eyes anytime I hear someone say it as we stand over an office birthday cake.

That’s it for now. Happy Monday!

Ooh - wait can I add a freebie number six? It annoys me when people say “Happy Monday!” yet it doesn’t annoy me enough not to do it myself. Because I do. All cheery. And annoying. Such a contradiction.

More to come.

Actually said to me today, “I can’t wait for you to get fat!”

Girls are so nice, right?

Done with school!

Well- for a few weeks anyway.

My final was on the brutal side. What the hell is ANOVA and why don’t I remember reading about it during the last 8 weeks!?

Geez.

It feels good to have my first semester under my belt. Now I can focus on Christmas week.

Any cleaning my house.

It’s the messiest place on earth. I need someone to put me on that Clean House Showa pit.

Anyway- now that I’m done and have a few weeks off I can focus on cleaning and the important stuff like reading all the Women’s Health magazines I’ve been putting off for the last four months.

It’s the big things that count, really.

Okay- enough complaining about my messy house. Trust me, I’ve been doing enough. In fact, Will looked at me yesterday and was like- “You’re done with school. Sit down. Breathe. Take a couple of days off before you jump into boiling the house. And seriously, seriously please stop complaining about how messy it is.”

I get it. I’m annoying. I told him I’d keep it to a minimum.

So let’s move on and let me share with you how CRAZY Oklahomans are during the holiday season.

I don’t know if any of you have been to Oklahoma, or know any Oklahomans, or have some sort of stereotype in your mind about what people from Oklahoma are like (um- and if you’re using me as a comparison method and the word “goofy” or “awkward” keep coming to mind?… well please disregard)

Anyway, I like to think that as a whole, Oklahomans are nice people.

Sorry- let’s say that correctly. Everyone, get a slight southern drawl ready, and here we go-

Oklahomans are Naaaiiiccce.

There. Much better.

Well, it’s not true.

At least during the holidays, that is.

Will and I had to go to the mall Saturday.

A quick trip to the mall.

Because we needed two gift cards- and nothing else.

However, we should have known that at this time of the year there is no “quick trip to the mall.”

You may have intentions for a quick trip, but there is nothing quick about the experience at all.

Virtually every other Oklahoman had the same plan.

A quick trip to the mall.

Oh- and before we go any further.

Who doesn’t have their Christmas shopping done by now!? GEEZ. Seriously.

Okay, granted Will and I had to grab one thing, which is probably what everyone else out and about today was doing, but still- Saturday’s experience alone is enough to remind me that any amount of shopping the week before Christmas is a bad idea.

A.Bad.Idea.

And I hardly ever do it. Except, the girl who was going to get our boss’ gift had to leave town unexpectedly which meant I had to go to the mall to secure the gift.

And yes, I say “secure the gift” in a Jack Bauer sort of fashion, because it truly was some sort of operative mission involving stealth and skill and the ability to have no Christmas heart- even if it means taking out an old lady clad in a cute fuzzy Christmas tree sweater, equipped with holiday lights and bells.

You just have to do it. It’s Christmas. The season of joy and giving stealing parking spots and fighting over the last hideous pair of fuzzy Christmas socks for Aunt Margaret.

Speaking of stealing parking spots- I totally fell victim to a terrible little Christmas hater Saturday. The mall was fuller than a kid who downed a whole plate of oreo truffles and butter cake. We were driving around, circling, circling… much like sharks around a wounded seal.

As soon as a spot opened up- BAMO- it was taken.

Well I dropped Will off to start shopping while I tried to find a place to park and came upon the best.spot.ever. It’s almost as if it was golden and beaming and surrounded by a beautiful virginal choir clad in white robes singing and rejoicing, welcoming me into their space.

Except- as I began to make my turn into the spot a mini van-

That’s right- a VAN

A small little van full of a little soccer mom and her snotty kids and their Capri Suns and raisins and Christmas sweaters-

flew out of nowhere and descended right into my spot!

I was flabbergasted.

I was angry.

I laid on the horn.

I felt slightly better.

Do you not believe in Christmas joy you soccer mom Scrooge!?!

Granted, I’m sure she needed the spot more than I did- but I didn’t care.

It was the Saturday before Christmas. At the mall. It was war.

Except I couldn’t really wage war since I needed to continue on my hunt for a viable parking spot. Even if it meant parking on grass. Across the street. In a sketchy apartment complex.

Whatever it takes, darn it.

I needed to make that purchase and nothing was going to get in my way. Not even a Honda van.

I finally found a parking spot and fought my way through the army of Christmas resistance Christmas cheer.

First stop? JC Penneys for Will’s grandma.

I walked in and was greeted by a smiley young and pretty employee handing out candy canes and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.

Which made me breathe a little easier and loosened up my tense shoulders.

Ha.

It’s as if they knew that for 30 seconds I was going to forget about the hell that was the mall parking lot so that I would enter their store and stay.

Only to be confronted with the SAME parking lot hell machines only this time instead of being in the form of cars it was in the form of patrons!

That’s right!

Patrons!!!!

They’re so mean and competitive! Yes- it’s like a whole “sport.” Them against me. “Five yard penalty for cutting the person in line.”

“Unsportsman-like conduct on the receiving team!”

It was like a losing battle the whole time. Does anyone win the weekend before Christmas? Are the sales worth it? Can your blood pressure handle it?

Because I’m pretty sure mine couldn’t.

I crumbled like a week old cookie= “Go ahead, push me around. Go ahead take my spot! Hey- have my first born while you’re at it!”

That’s my passive aggressiveness showing itself.

What makes me laugh is that these same “patrons” that stole my spot and pushed and nudged me around all huffy and rudely are the same friendly faces you and I know and love and buy presents for!

It’s crazy!

What gets into us!?

It’s like all our tact goes right out the window.

It’s brutal.

It’s painful.

It’s not festive at all.

And thinking about the whole experience annoys me all over again. Rude Honda van spot stealer!!

...

I get it.

Much like the messy house complaining, I need to lay off the crazy Christmas shopper complaining too.

Merry merry Christmas- and I mean that in the most non-Oklahoma mall shopper way possible.

Hey what about you guys? I gotta believe it’s not just Oklahomans that morph into courtesy killers. What kind of Christmas shopping annoyances have you experienced this season?

More to come! Hey- I’m out of school for a while. Do I see more consistent posting in my future?!

I’m getting older. We all are. However, it seems like ever since I started school I’ve met this woman deep down inside of me that I never knew existed. Meet Grandma Brittny.

Grandma Brittny is alright… I suppose. I mean, she’s very concerned about coffee in the morning and obtaining ample fiber with breakfast.

She’s interested in the weather and whether it corresponds with the almanac.

She even wears big bulky socks to bed most nights.

She never watches the 10:00 news (because she’s already in bed, of course).

Guys- Grandma Brittny is KILLING Regular Brittny!

It’s like she’s taking over my body and is trying to control it remotely from some station in the clouds.

I don’t think I realized how bad it really was until a couple weeks ago. P and I FaceTime three mornings a week. We get ready together, which I find very fun.

“Should I wear the green shirt or the pink one?”

“Yogurt or eggs?”

“Ooh! That blush is so pretty!”

It’s great.

Anyway, the other morning we were talking and I mentioned how much I was loving my new deodorant and how wonderful it smelled. I went on and on about the stuff and how, “if they made it in a lotion in that scent I’d use it all the time.”

Finally P asked what kind I was using, and I told her, and she burst into laughter- “That crap smells like an old lady!!”

Busted.

I laughed, and agreed, and then cursed Grandma Brittny.

And then caved and had my FiberOne for breakfast- being sure to remember my multivitamin.

I had another similar encounter a few days ago before going to the gym.

I’m one of those annoying girls that sprays on the body spray before going to gym. In hopes of quelling the sweaty “yuck.” I noticed I was out of my old spray and used a new Bath and Body Works one Will’s mom had gotten for me last Christmas. I remember when I had gotten it I specifically said to Will, “ This stuff smells like something an old lady would wear!”

But because there was no receipt I wasn’t able to take it back. So, I kept it and figured I’d be able to use it for instances such as these- going to the gym, lazy days around the house, etc.

So I sprayed it on and headed to the gym. On my way there I began thinking, “Huh… this stuff doesn’t smell bad at all! In fact, it smells pretty great!”

I quickly realized what had happened. “Get a hold of yourself! Don’t you see what she’s trying to do!? She’s trying to weaken you!”

And I almost let her win.

So now I’m in full revolt mode. Out to take my life back and away from the feeble old hands of that old hag! Just because I’m in school again doesn’t mean I have to turn into a big Granny, right!?

I’m going out of my way to avoid bedazzlers and sweat suits in the mall, and eating Lucky Charms for breakfast. I’m cranking up the rap and avoiding the Hallmark channel.

Just regular old coffee? Pow! Extra shot of espresso please!

10:00 news? How about Conan!

Bulky socks? Lingerie!

I realize it’s petty, and it’s likely a matter of time before Grandma Brittny returns (and this time for good), but I’d like to think that’s still another 20 years away, you know?

So, when that day finally comes I’ll embrace Grandma Brittny with open arms- but until then? It’s war.

Will and I recently went out of town and boarded the doggies at a new vet clinic.
 
We opted to use this new place because we hate the other clinic in town because they are more exclusive about the dogs they board and it’s mainly just a thing they do on the side for a small group of people. We figured this would be good for the babies, all 4 of them, to ensure they got proper care and hopefully had somewhat of a better experience than at the previous kennel where there’s a million barking dogs and hissing cats around the clock.

Plus, who doesnt like to be part of an “elite” group?

Yes I realize we are talking about my dogs but I’ll take what I can get.
 
We tested the waters a couple of months ago by boarding Rocky and Teddy there while Will and I took a trip to Branson with his family. It worked out seemingly great and there were no issues. In fact, it seemed like they really liked Rocky and Teddy. What’s not to love right!?
 
Well, this past time we ended up having to board all 4, which was a first. Boz and Lucy don’t do very well away from home. They’re annoying spoiled companion dogs and will let you know it by barking all.the.time. They’re the dogs you love to hate.
 
Or  maybe they’re the dogs you hate to love.
 
Ha- who am I kidding. They’re annoying. I know it. But they’re just so darn cute!
 
Do THESE dogs look like they’re spoiled bark-y terrors? I think not!
 

 
Anyway- let’s get back to the matter at hand. When the Littles start barking it becomes a whole fiasco.
 
Then Teddy gets started.
 
And then it’s pretty much a deafening symphonic of various barking ranges the entire time we’re away.
 
Or so we’ve been told.
 
I think they’re lying.
 
But that’s because I’m in denial.
 
We went to pick all of them up the other day and the lady seemed quiet frazzled. Which made me laugh considering I knew it was because of Boz and Lucy. Tiny little teacups that weigh less than a bag of sugar. How much havoc could they wreak!? Are you telling me that YOU, a grown adult couldn’t control two Coke cans? Heh heh. Weak.
 
We got the dogs and she had nice things to say about Rocky and Teddy, as usual, but for some reason she had nothing to say at all about the Littles. I can’t imagine why (ha).
 
As we paid, Will looked our chart that was near him and noticed it said the following, “Dogs very bark-y. Not sure if this is going to work.”
 
So yeah, we’re pretty much blacklisted from this new place, largely in part to our tiny terrors.
 
So much for that. We might as well take a huge black Sharpee and X ourselves off their list of boarders.
 
Because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what the old lady did as we walked out that day. Right after she opened up her bottom drawer, pulled the shiny flask out, and chugged the whole thing. Our dogs seem to have that affect on vet clinics.
 
All I know is that with dogs like these, we’re going to be excellent parents one day.
 

 

Food morning.

Yes.

You read that right.

FOOD morning.

In a letter to our customer, the Government.

Nice.

I’m pretty sure I’ve sealed my fatness for life.

In fact, you’ll probably find me in the broom closet later this afternoon with a giant spoon and a tub of vanilla frosting.

Aw hell, screw the spoon- people like us don’t use spoons.

Food morning.

I did an immediate recall.

But it didn’t work.

I’d like to blame it on the fact that the “f” and the “g” are right next to each other, but the sad truth is that it’s likely my deep subconscious acting out.

Geez… well at this rate all I can hope for is a Food afternoon.

It’s funny that even after almost six and a half years of marriage I’m still all about proving a point. Sure, I fully acknowledge marriage is about give and take, open honesty, and all things good. But let’s face it- we’re still women, and we don’t like being wrong.

Which means there are times in which we do silly things out of “principle” to ensure we’re always right.

Let’s begin in 2008.

When we first moved from Kuwait and into our house the previous owners left some pretty maroon curtains behind. I had my own plan for the curtains in the living room, however they were nice and I didn’t just want to get rid of them. So- Will thought they would fit nicely in his future “man room,” fill of OU crimson memorabilia and all things boy. I sort of scratched my head as to how regal curtains such as these would fit into the Room O Testosterone- but whatever.

We took them down and hung them nicely in the closet of Will’s future OU room.

And didn’t think anything else of them.

Last spring, the spring of 2009 mind you, I was in Will’s room and came across the curtains. I had intended to get them dry cleaned after taking them down but had long forgotten to do it, so I decided what better time to get these curtains dry cleaned?

I took them to my local dry cleaners that spring. The spring of 2009. I dropped them off- 4 curtains total (they were doubled up on each side of the rod) and was on my merry way.

Hmm… let’s camp out at the dry cleaners for a second. It’s somewhat necessary for the story.

To my knowledge there are only 2 dry cleaners in close proximity to me. This one, and another one. This one is what I would consider a “fancy” dry cleaners. Mainly because I’m a dork. It’s in a nice shopping center and the building is nice and the inside is nice and the people are nice, and well- it’s just nice. I feel like my clothes are properly tagged and put away and nicely cared for.

And the other one? Well it’s okay. I’m sure it’s a quintessential dry cleaners. Only, when compared to the “nice” dry cleaners, it just seems pretty dumpy. I don’t like going in there and I fear that as soon as I drop off my clothes they’re being worn my some old cougar with fuchsia lipstick.

So now that we have an understanding of the differences of my dry cleaning establishments, let’s move on.

A few days later I returned to the nice dry cleaners and paid and picked up the crimson curtains. I brought them home and put them in Will’s closet, where Will proceeded to tell me, “You know… those don’t look as thick as before. Are you sure you got all of them?”

Rolling my eyes “Yes, Will, I got all of them.”

“Are you sure? I’m telling you, I really thought these looked thicker.”

“Yes, Will. I’m sure. I wouldn’t have forgotten them.”

And then on and off for the next three days Will proceeded to make comments about how he really thought the curtains looked fuller before and how he was afraid I didn’t get all of them.

To which I continued to assure him that he was wrong, and I was right.

What’s funny about this whole scenario is that neither of us ever bothered to open the plastic bag they were wrapped in to count them.

Ha.

Anyway- about 2 weeks later, during the spring of 2009, I received a phone message from the nice dry cleaners. They had my curtains! I had in fact only picked up 2 of the 4 and I needed to get the rest! Opps. So now not only was I wrong, but I had to pick up the rest of our curtains and somehow explain to Will that he was right and I had not paid attention- despite promising that I had.

Which wasn’t going to happen.

Unfortunately, through a series of events, I never went and picked up the curtains.

And every three months or so, the nice dry cleaners (because they’re so darn friendly, of course!) called and left me messages to pick up my freaking curtains.

Only for some reason, like a bad episode of Seinfeld, the calls deterred me from going. Too much time had passed! It would be too awkward! I was “that annoying girl with the two curtains!” I just couldn’t do it. Not to mention I wasn’t going to be wrong. Let’s not forget that whole matter.

Which is funny too because at some point Will would have opened up the bag to hang those girly curtains in his man’s room only to realize he was missing two.

However, when you’re doing stupid things such as avoiding picking up curtains YOU OWN from your dry cleaners, you’re just not thinking logically.

...

Okay, so anyway-

Let’s not forget that throughout this time I still had to get my clothes dry cleaned. Only, I for sure couldn’t go to the nice cleaners! How could I show my face there? I was the weird girl with a complex that wouldn’t pick up her curtains FOR NO GOOD REASON. So, I had to resort to the sketchy cleaners.

And soon realized that I couldn’t do that for long.

And then it turned 2010.

A new year. A year of new chances. Perhaps I would pick up my curtains?

The truth is, by then I had totally forgotten about those curtains. I mean, it had almost been a year. A year!

So pathetic.

I was quickly reminded of the curtain issue yet again when I needed to get something dry cleaned. Only I didn’t and nicely laid the item to the side in my closet.

And did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until my nice little pile became a little ridiculous. Plus I’m pretty sure Will began to wonder what in the world I was doing.

“Oh sorry honey- I don’t want to risk you coming home while I’m sneaking in the curtains I swore to you were already there!”

Did I mention pathetic?

At the time it didn’t seem so awful. Only now do I realize how utterly ridiculous I was.

So, two weeks ago I got another call from the cleaners saying that if I didn’t pick up my curtains within 30 days they were going to get rid of them.

I mean, even nice dry cleaners have their limits, right? Understandably.

So I realized I was going to have to do something. I began laughing to myself over the whole entire series of events, which meant I had to share my story with someone.

My mom and sister are visiting for a couple of weeks, so I told the whole lame story to them- which made them laugh. Of course they had the same expected questions of, “Why didn’t you just get them!?” and “Didn’t you think about the fact that at some point Will would have found out there were only 2 curtains instead of 4?”

Good times.

Anyway, we had a good laugh about the whole thing and I decided that I was going to go in there and get those freaking crimson curtains. I was going to use the whole, “My phone changed and I just checked my messages recently” excuse.

You know, because that makes perfect sense.

So I was resolved to go and do it, only later that day I got a text from my sister telling me that she had beat me to the punch. Apparently my mom went and got them for me! And not only that, but that awkwardness I had feared for so long? Wasn’t there at all. My mom had used the truth, “I have been out of the country for a while,” which made me laugh. What’s really annoying is that I had already paid for the curtains! I’m so weird sometimes.

My mom had saved the day, and I really could have taken care of the whole thing an entire YEAR before, had I not been such a crazy.

The only thing that remains now is to bring them home, as they are currently hiding out in my parent’s house. After having to go through this whole rigamarole I wasn’t about to just parade them into the house, so I will sneak them in later this week.

Because that’s what crazy wives do. And they’re always right.

Always right.

Yes. I get it. My last twenty-five posts have somehow centered back to food. I clearly have a problem. I should be on Maury or Montel or The View discussing my awful obsession with frosting and dinners and celebrations that center around both.

Or maybe just the sick obsession with frosting.

I realize the food posts need to stop. However, today something happened that I simply had to share. I found myself hovering over the sink thinking, “Wow. I really don’t want to tell anyone about the shame I just experienced.”

And then five minutes later I was in the car laughing thinking, “Ahaha, I have to tell someone about this.”

So here we are.

Tomorrow is Will’s birthday. Yesterday we drove down to Will’s parent’s house to celebrate his birthday. We went to eat and afterwards Will’s mom sent us home with a dirty cake.

Heh heh. Dirty cake.

Doesn’t it just sound sleazy? Like you need to be listening to Keith Sweat or R. Kelly while you take the lid off? Or like you should be slathering it in some sort of edible oil?

Sorry for the visual. Let’s get back on track.

Anyway- dirty cake. Us. Taking it home.

We brought the cake home but didn’t have any last night. Which meant there was untouched cake in my house for more than 12 hours, which is pretty much a miracle.

In fact you may want to check page 22A of your local newspaper. I bet I’m in there.

So today for lunch I had to run to the post office to mail off my transcripts for my school application. I had already brought my lunch to work with me, so there was really no need for me to go home for lunch yet somehow I found myself getting into the car, as if on autopilot, and driving home. You know, to let Boz and Lucy out. Wink.

So I get there, let them out, and am standing around the kitchen thinking, “What am I doing here?” Knowing full well what was really going on in my mind. The cake.

So, I play with a little fire and open the fridge- and there it is.

In fact, as I opened the fridge I’m pretty sure I heard some Marvin Gaye playing in the back of the Crisper area- and as soon as I shut the fridge the music went away.

I peeked it open again, to be greeted with the same sound. Only this time I exercised some degree of willpower and got a nectarine.

Because, as we all know, nectarines are just as satisfying as chocolatey cake, yes?

I finished the nectarine and really realize I need to go back to work.

I mean that is Will’s cake! His mom made it for him! It’s meant for us to share it together in honor of his special day. What sort of sick, awful, hormonal person eats their husband’s birthday ca…

And before I could finish the word, there I was. Standing over the sink trying to slyly carve out a tiny piece of dirty cake so that Will would never know someone sampled it before he did. Only the tiny sliver soon became about half a cup.

Wow.

An all time low, I thought to myself.

So what was I to do!? I couldn’t let Will know I was such a selfish awful wife!

Think, Brittny, Think!

Ahaha!

If you’ve ever had dirty cake, you know that it’s topped with whip cream.

So, in my genius, I went to the freezer and pulled out our gigantic tub of Cool Whip.

Because, as you know, every two person household has a costco size bucket of Cool Whip in their house.

I went to work, almost artist-like, filling in the “tiny” hole I had created, and spreading the oreos overtop.

Brilliant.Before I knew it- Tada! Good as new. Like I never ate a giant hole through Will’s birthday cake.

So now I don’t feel so much like a heel. Now I simply feel like I need to spend all week at the gym.

I made myself laugh, so I figured I’d share the moment with you all.

Happy Monday!

Yes, I was there.

We drove down to Dallas Friday afternoon to cheer on the Sooners- and subsequently watched them lose on Saturday. Sure, I could talk offense with you, or Sam Bradford, but really? Why waste a good internet space?

My point exactly.

Perhaps the biggest travesty is the fact that I didn’t even get a fried snickers out of the whole ordeal. I seriously anticipate those things like a junior high boy encountering his first set of junior high girl lips.

Seriously. I LOVE. LOVE. LOVE those things.

And once a freaking year I get the opportunity to have them. And I missed it this year. All because I didn’t get one before the game and we darted out of there after the stupid Sooner loss. Can I blame this on them?

Let’s.

So can we just move on? I had this whole cutesy post in my mind about Rivalry Week, but with the loss (and lack of fried snickers) I think it’s best to tuck it away for next year.

Assuming we win.

Moving on.

If I recall correctly I promised you guys a B-Love moment, yes?

So last Friday the group I work directly with went out to lunch. In addition to “the group,” the vice president of our section as well as the director, program manager, and my boss accompanied us. So, although it was a casual lunch there are still certain things that just aren’t appropriate to discuss over grilled fish with the VP, you know?

To set it up, to the left of me is my coworker that I work most closely with. Directly in front of me is our director- and on one side of him is the VP, and on the other is the program manager.

So everyone is talking, no big deal, and somehow the conversation goes to dancing. Who knows how, and really it’s irrelevant. It gets mentioned that none of us (the girls at the table- one being my boss and the other being the person sitting right next to me) danced at the Christmas party last year. My boss and coworker friend quickly remind everyone at the table that they did in fact dance at the Christmas party.

I, however, did not.

See, I have very strict rules about dancing. Rules perhaps I will share with you all in another post. Rules that include never, ever dancing at work functions.

I live by these rules and they cannot be broken.

Anyway- it is because of these rules I did not dance at the Christmas party.

That and no other reason.

“Brittny, didn’t dance,” someone said.

And then all of a sudden, with no lag in response time, with no thought of the implications of the reaction, my coworker spewed, “That’s because Brittny was drunk.”

Silence.

Mortification.

Awkwardness.

Laughter.

Hello VP of my office, director, and BOSS! Your apparent alcoholic employee will be tipping back a flask of tequila in the bathroom now.

My face got so hot and I literally started to sweat. I looked over at her and she looked at me and immediately said, “I’m so sorry! I have no idea why I just said that!”

And then for the rest of lunch that was all that was discussed.

Nice.

For the record?

So not drunk at the Christmas party. Sure I had some wine, but I was no where near inebriation. More like what I like to consider as “Brittny Plus.” But I mean the more you’re at the table swearing you weren’t drunk, the more people think that you were, you know?

”Sure we believe you. You weren’t drunk. Riiight.”

Ugh.

After the awkward laughter, and “I’m so sorrys” from my coworker, it was finally time to go.

Thank God. There are just some things you don’t want your bosses to know about you, and that? That is definitely one of them.

I can’t help but cringe every time I think about it.

As well as every time I see those people in the hall.

Can I please be sick at the Christmas party this year?

Better yet, I think we should have our own Christmas party?

Apparently I’m lots of fun.

(ha ha)

So tomorrow I’m headed to Colorado for a quick overnight trip. I think it was snowing up there earlier last week, but thankfully I just checked the weather and it looks like it will be pretty decent. How much would it suck to get stranded, right?

That’s my only news right now.

Crazy thought- but how about I try to post multiple times this week like a normal blogger!? Great idea.

Let’s cross our fingers that I don’t suck.

Boredom will make you do crazy things.

Like eat.

Or post for no good reason.

Or watch totally stupid crap on TV (Hello MTV True Life!).

Or quite possibly the worst of all-

Facebook.

I know.

How dare I speak ill of our beloved Facebook right?

Ha- don’t worry, I’m not.

Truth be told I think I’ve spent more hours on there the last month than I have my entire Facebook “career.”

Heh.

Facebook Career.

But something gets terribly skewed when you’re so.incredibly.bored and sit online for hours despite having plenty to do.

(cough- cleaning)

You start on the homepage looking at all the updates.

Then you go to your page (for the billionth time) to see who’s left you a comment.

And then you go to a few of you favorite friends’ pages and say hello, see what’s been going on etc.

And then you sit there.

Bored again.

You could clean.

Who are you kidding? You’d way rather sit in front of a computer screen than face your laundry pile.

You could go for a walk.

Eh… fresh air is overrated.

So once again you’re in front of the computer screen.

And then it happens.

You start looking at all your friend’s pages.

You begin looking at all their posts, their pictures, and their friends.

There’s no nice way to put it.

You’re facebook stalking.

The more friends you look at the crazier you get. It’s like this switch flips on and you’ve become this crazy ex girlfriend sitting outside your Facebook friend’s house waiting for them to come home from their date so you can size up the girlfriend’s car and hair and shoes.

It’s like you’ve become the creepy guy that calls your crush a million times but every time she pics up the phone and says hello you panic, chicken out, and hang up.

It’s like you’re BE FRI part of the BEST FRIENDS necklace and are watching to make sure that ST ENDS is not cheating on you.

You’re completely out of control!

Sigh…

As you can see, I’ve been way too bored the last few days. Although I don’t think I’m anywhere near the crazy ex girlfriend facebook stalker status, I must admit I’ve logged a lot of hours on that poor site. It’s like I’m studying for an MFA- and it’s not a Master of Fine Arts. It’s a Master of Facebook Activities.

Thankfully I can say I have never gotten into the whole, “So and So wants to invite you to have a drink on them! or So and So thinks you’re the 9th nicest person they know! Vote for them too!” So, I mean my Facebook activity could most definitely be far worse I suppose.

Right?

It’s like this awful drug that keeps reeling you in! You want to stop so bad. You want to stop and be a productive member of society but you’re so tempted by that high. That “one last hit” on someone’s wall…

it hurts so good.

So, I’m trying to quit.

Okay, I’m lying. I’m not trying to quit.

Although I’d be a genius if I could invent a patch for quitting Facebook.

Hmmm....

Anyway- I really need to tear myself off of the computer a little more so I can be more productive this fall.

I could take up knitting.

Or basket weaving.

Or sopapilla making.

Or maybe just learn how to spell “sopapilla.”

...

Or I could just stay on Facebook.

I could do that too.

Maybe I’ll try to quit another day. That sounds like a plan.

See you on your wall (or outside your house).

I swear I’m only kidding about the house part. I’m not a Facebook stalker.

Hey I saw that look! I’m not and you know it. Scouts honor.

<3