Your Kiss Would Be On My List, If You Weren't Such A Total Dork

We totally geeked out last night. We drank some wine, played some cribbage, and listened to Hall & Oates Greatest Hits.

Obviously we reminisced about our days at the roller rink, too.

Bloody Hell, I'm Back in the U.S.

How bad do I want an English accent? Bad. How possible will it be for me to develop one? Not. And believe me, I tried. We met this German guy who had been living in London for a few years already, who's accent sounded much more American than German or English. As it turns out, he had spent two years in NYC and is quite convinced that an American accent is much easier to pick up than an English one. I guess I'm just stuck with this lousy accent/non-accent.

Our trip was so much fun, outside of the fact that I woke up with a nasty head cold on Sunday morning, our only full day in London, so we got a late start because I couldn't seem to get out of bed and the fire alarm that sounded around 1:20am Monday (the day we have to get up and fly home) that forced the hotel to completely evacuate for a 1/2 hour. Other than that, I'm officially infatuated with the city!

Scenes from the St. Pauly Family (minus Stinky Pete, of course):

Location: Outside Buckingham Palace

St. Pauly Boy: Do you think the Queen is sitting on her throne, right now?
St. Pauly Girl: I'd say that's a no, but she very well could be sitting on her Porcelain Throne right now.
St. Pauly Boy: Yes, she could be. But do you think she has someone to do the dirty work?
St. Pauly Girl: Oh, I'm sure. I believe they call him the Royal Ass-Wiper.

Location: Big Ben

SPB: Big Ben looks bigger from far away.

Location: Westminster Abbey

Random Middle-Aged Midwestern American Woman: Um, excuse me, do you guys know which one is the West Minister Abbey?
SPG: (standing directly in front of Westminster Abbey) NO. (walks away)

Location: Somewhere

SPG: GOD, tourists are annoying.

Short time later...

SPG: OMG, totally take my picture in a phone booth.

Location: Some Pub

SPB: What the fuck are all these coins?? Why do they need so many coins? God I hate all these coins!!
SPG: Shut up and get us a couple pints.

Location: Tower Hill Underground Station - Exit

SPB: Is that the Tower of London in front of us?
SPG: (rolling eyes) No!

Moment later....

SPG: Where the hell is the Tower of London then???
SPB: Honey, that's it right in front of us.
SPG: (thoughtful) Oh. Ok. Let's smoke.

And that in a nutshell was our London Experience.

God Save The Queen

We're off to London and the top item on my husband's To Do list is taking a crap in Buckingham Palace. We'll see how that goes.

Cheerio.

Laundry To You, Food To Him

I happened upon a hilarious account of animal eating habits over at One Good Thing that reminded me of a similar incident we had with Stinky Pete. In true canine fashion, Stinky enjoys munching on soiled undergarments. He especially enjoys a good dirty sock, on occasion*. And as dog owners know, unless you have your eyes glued to your animals whereabouts, at all times, they're bound to get into something here and there. You just pray it won't end up being fatal. So, as the story goes, Stinky went outside to go potty and St. Pauly Boy just happened to accompany him**. Pete's routine for going #2 is to sniff out a good spot, squat, then use your hind legs as leverage to get the job done as quickly as possible. Basically this just means he stomps his back feet on a ground a few times, to help the poo come out. This particular time, he found his spot, popped a squat, but then encountered some technical difficulties. His hind legs didn't seem to be providing enough leverage, so while maintaining the squat position, he proceeded to slowly migrate across the yard, stomping his back feet all the while, stopping every so often for another big push, then proceeded on his potty-trail. Every time he stopped to maneuver a big push, the effort was made obvious by the fact that his ears were smashed down on the side of his skinny little head and his hind legs were shaking like he had ants in his pants. Only, he wasn't wearing any pants. St. Pauly Boy is observing that there's something not right about this particular potty break, so he goes to investigate. This is when he notices that what's coming out of Pete's arse has some shading to it that's not normally there. He looks a little closer, thinks to himself, "that looks a little like that pair of argyle socks that my wife wears sometimes.....wait, it could be....is it?...It IS the argyle socks my wife wears sometimes, well, used to wear, I guess, considering that one is about to come out of the dog's butt, I doubt she'll be wearing them anymore."...something like that.

So, without going into the gory details of having to pull a dirty black and gray argyle trouser sock out of a dog's butt, he was able to get the job done and Pete ran off like nothing ever happened.

Of course, the argyle sock account reminded me of another, sweeter smelling Pete story of the night he tryed to help me do laundry. As he was nosing through the basket of freshly dryed clothing, from what I assumed was him looking for a nice piece of clothing to fold, he happened upon a delightful little treat called a "dryer sheet". Before I could even flinch, the dryer sheet disappeared into Pete's mouth. I rebounded quick and made a valiant attempt to retrieve it by chasing him around the coffee table only to be defeated, as I watched him swallow, lick his chops, and make his move to go back for seconds. I put up a block and scolded him (yelled and whatnot). Realizing my defeat, I retreated to the sofa where I proceeded to give him the silent treatment, because if you can't beat him, pouting is the only remaining option. He slowly approached my pity-party, resting his head on my leg and looked up at me with his liquid brown puppy eyes, but I wouldn't let him win this battle. He can outrun the shit out of me but no one, and I mean no one, beats me at the pouting game. His final attempt to win back my heart was made when he climbed up the front of my legs, sat right down on my lap, and facing me with his puppy head, took a deep sorrowful sigh which drenched my face in dryer-fresh puppy breath.

And that was it. I put up the white flag***. He won. I lost. How could I possibly stay mad at that sad puppy face with that glorious dryer-fresh breath?

Needless to say, Pete is no longer allowed to assist us with household chores.

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*Occasion = any chance he gets.
**Allow me to clarify, St. Pauly Boy potties inside the house, Pete potties outside the house.
***If I weren't speaking metaphorically, I'm sure he would have attempted to eat the white flag.

St. Pauly Girl's New Life

Well, the deed is done. I have officially resigned from my job, effective February 2nd, 2007.

What will I be doing on February 3rd, you ask? Probably nursing a massive hangover. But after that, I'm [finally] going to pursue the career path that I want, that I've actually wanted since high school. I'm going back to school for my masters in psychology. I don't know where, although there's a program at the U of M that is making me drool right now, the Counseling and Student Personnel Psychology program in the Educational Psychology department. But first I'm going to take some time off to research my dream job, working with college age kids, 18-22ish, as a college counselor of sorts. I finally realized that it'd be a good idea to harness the passion that I have for helping, young women specifically, realize their potential and to help them develop their self-confidence and self-esteem so they can go out into the world and kick a lot of ass. And feel really good about themselves while they're doing it.

This is going to be such a huge life change for me and I'm scared as shit, but at the end of the day, I know I'll be so much happier pursuing something that I'm passionate about. And it's not going to suck to get out of the Corporate World, that's for damn sure.

Here I come, unemployment, you better be ready for me because I'm gonna totally use you!

Taking a Flying Leap.

In about 20 minutes, I'm going to be giving my boss my official resignation from my current place of employment.

I feel like I'm about to throw up.

Do I have another job lined up? No. Will I before I quit? No. Am I pregnant? No.

Stay tuned for further details.

Do You Want the Terrorists to Win?

Apparently, I do.

Your 'Do You Want the Terrorists to Win' Score: 94%

You are a terrorist-loving, Bush-bashing, "blame America first"-crowd traitor. You are in league with evil-doers who hate our freedoms. By all counts you are a liberal, and as such cleary desire the terrorists to succeed and impose their harsh theocratic restrictions on us all. You are fit to be hung for treason! Luckily George Bush is tapping your internet connection and is now aware of your thought-crime. Have a nice day.... in Guantanamo!

Do You Want the Terrorists to Win?
Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

(Link via Bitch, PhD)

Weekend-In-Review: I Got Action

And tons of it.

I saw Mission Impossible: III, Superman Returns, AND the new Bond movie this weekend.

You thought I was talking about another type of action. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Loved all 3 of these movies. Yes, everyone hates Tom Cruise because he's a crazy psychotic Scientologist. But you know what? I still like his movies, dammit. And this one was no exception. Superman was awesome. Props to the new guy, he pretty much nailed it. And even props to the new Lois Lane, played by Kate Bosworth whom I tend not to like very much. But I thought she was actually pretty good in this movie.

But that new Bond movie was by far the best of our weekend action. In fact, both St. Pauly Boy and I agree that we think it's the best Bond movie ever. The action was insane, to say the least, but they also added in some actual character evaluation. James Bond is more human in this movie. He's vulnerable and he makes mistakes, and DAMN does he look good doing it. Double-o-HOT is what he is. I actually found myself wishing I could be a Bond-Girl, even it means I have to die in the end.

3 thumbs up for the movie weekend.

Silly Little Airline Staff

In the wake of a disturbing story posted by Squab earlier today, regarding a family who were kicked off of a Delta Airlines flight because the woman was breast-feeding in what she believed was as discreet as humanly possible and refused to cover herself and her child with a big wool blanket that the flight attendant asked her to use due to the offensive act that is feeding your child as nature intended, here are some airline quotes from Overheard In New York. They're funny.

London Calling

Part of the pleasure of living in a DINK household is the freedom for spontaneity. The other part is actually being spontaneous. St. Pauly Boy and I aren't very spontaneous (unless you count going to the bar at the last minute instead of cooking dinner at home). We're pretty structured. We work Monday through Friday and for the most part stay home at night and watch TV. On weekends we go out on Fridays and stay home on Saturdays with two movies and either pizza or chinese take-out. Yes, having Stinky Pete does remove some of that flexibility to up and take a road trip for a weekend, on a whim. But we have lots of doggie-care resources. Lots. If Grandma and Grandpa can't take him (let's face it, they always WANT him, it's just whether or not they're available) then he goes to the luxurious Doggy-Spa where he's pampered and played with* and comes home nicely groomed and tired as hell. The Doggy-Spa is a dog-owners dream come true, minus the price tag, hence hitting up G-ma and G-pa before shipping him off to the Fabulous Life of Non-Celebrity Dogs.

So enough is enough. We're taking advantage of our place in life, we're dumping the dog at the Grandparents or the Doggy-Spa and we're heading over to Europe for a weekend. London, to be exact. I've never been, so I couldn't be more excited about it. We leave on a Friday night and return Monday afternoon. We'll have a total of 16 hours on the plane, there and back, and 48 hours total in the city.

Ok, so the real reason we're going is because St. Pauly Boy came up short for his Platinum status with his airline this year. Platinum isn't something you just want to give up. So I told him I would support him flying to Europe and back just to get the miles. And then when I really thought about it, there's just no way in hell I'm letting him go alone. So off to London we go. I cannot wait!!
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*Here's how spoiled Pete is: I actually fork over an extra amount per day at the Doggie-Spa so Pete can get extra playtime. Good fucking god, I'm a maniac.

Oops, I Said It Again

We saw Borat last night. I laughed my ass off for 97% of the movie. The 3% in which I didn't laugh can be broken down like so:

1) Old man @ rodeo who insists Borat shave his moustache to avoid being confused as a Muslim. It was too sad to laugh at. Just too sad.

2) The wrestling scene. Enough said.

3) Frat boys in the RV. Now here's where I have more to say. As if their statements weren't offensive enough, they are now suing the studio claiming they were humiliated and misled by the production team. Whatever. Whether or not their claims are true regarding being "misled" they still said what they said and it sure sounded like they meant it. I think they should be humiliated by their sexism and bigotry. There's no excuse for acting like that. I hope they get killed* by the studio.

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*Figuritively, not literally, of course.

Karen Walker Is Must Less Evil

Is it just me or was Michelle Bachman going for the Karen Walker look on election night?
















Or did she think she was just elected Prom Queen instead of Congresswoman?

There's just no reason for prom hair at an election. No reason.

Fallback Shocker

If we don't get any campaign shockers this term, at least we have this as the fallback:

Spears Boots K-Fed to the Curb

I just didn't see this coming.

To Vote or Not To Vote....It's Not An Appropriate Question!

In the coffee room at work there's a sign that someone tacked on the corkboard that says "GO VOTE. This time it matters."

I'm just wondering when it doesn't...I'll have to find the author and ask he or she when it's appropriate to vote and when I can just skip it because it doesn't matter.

Moron.

I'm St. Pauly Girl and I Approve This Message.

The election process in this country should be something that stimulates it's citizens. It should be invigorating to envoke our constitutional right to vote, to communicate our individual choice for governmental office based on our opinions and concerns about the society to which live. It's liberating to be able to say, for the record, I choose YOU to represent my best interests and the best interests of society in general. We totally take it for granted and I can understand why. Who wants to get involved when all we are bombarded with is negative media? Commercial after commercial, literally back to back, and there's nothing positive to say. And if they do say something positive it normally comes out sounding rather insincere and sometimes downright slimy. Who wants to participate in this process when voting day finally arrives and you are already weak with frustration and annoyance at the constant stream of political media we are forced to absorb on a daily basis. And the most disturbing thing about political media is that it's not about the issues. You don't learn more about a candidate by watching their campaign commercials. The only thing you learn is that they're just another typical politician, talking in circles and standing still.

But the thing of it is, we have to involve ourselves. It's our responsibility. Yes, they make it very hard to want to and even make it hard to educate ourselves appropriately as to make the right decision for ourselves. But we still have to put in our time. Because we live here. It's our job to participate. I don't like taking out the garbage, but if I didn't, there'd be rats all over my house. If we don't vote and we end up with rats all over our government, we have no right to bitch and we certainly cannot blame those responsible for letting the rats in. You have to live with it, knowing you had the chance to have a voice and you chose not to use it.

Every vote counts. It may not be the deciding factor for your candidate's campaign but it sure is the deciding factor for your contribution to society.

Zach Made Me Do It

I have this ongoing argument with a friend of mine from work regarding television. We both pretty much love TV, so that's not the issue. The issue developed when he began badmouthing "Grey's Anatomy", just because he knows it became my new favorite show after "The West Wing" got cancelled last year. He hates Grey's because it's too superficial and unrealistic (as far as the medical cases go). Like any of us give two shits about whether or not a human being could actually survive having a 2 foot tree trunk lodged in their sternum or that two people could become attached by a big pole shooting through their chests as a result of some kind of crazy train crash or something. We care about the superficial stuff. Like whether or not George is going to take his hot girlfriend back even after she slept with McSteamy...who wouldn't sleep with McSteamy, by the way. We care about who Meredith is going to choose, Finn or McDreamy, even though it's always been quite obvious that she'd pick McDreamy...who wouldn't pick McDreamy, by the way. We care about Izzy cashing the 8 million dollar check and getting over cute Denny dying, and Berk getting his arm back so he can be a world-class surgeon again. There's no time to worry about the validity of the medical cases that they present to us.

As my revenge, I decided to hate his television obsession, which is the hit-series "Lost". I decided that the whole premise of the show kind of irritates me. A bunch of people stranded on some remote island, yet somehow they all have artillary? An airplane that literally busts in half for no apparant reason, and all those people....survive......?? It all seems a little too out there to grab my attention. I know, I know, they explain the whole thing and you just have to watch it in order to understand and the second you start watching, you'll be hooked. It'll be your brand new addiction, much safer than Blow. My severe, Type A stubborness would gladly take Blow over allowing myself to become just another Obsessed-Lost-Watcher.

That is, until now.

I had to report a possible change of heart to my work friend yesterday. It appears that one of the Obsessed-Lost-Watchers that I refuse to associate myself with, just so happens to be my favorite actor whom I lovelovelove, like, wallpaper-on-my-laptop love. Suddenly I find myself strangely drawn towards Blockbuster so that I can rent the first two seasons and watch them, all in one weekend. That's what my work friend says I'd do, because they're so good you can't just eat one.

So here I sit. Borderline sell out due to a school girl style celebrity crush, all of my principles hanging in the balance. How's that for drama?

St. Pauly Girl, Interrupted

Back from a little Northern Minnesota va-ca with St. Pauly Boy and the St. Pauly Girl In-Laws. We spend 4 nights at a resort on the north shore of Lake Superior. It's a family favorite spot, it's always gorgeous and relaxing. Well, at least the first two days were relaxing. Then it became more of a withdrawal from city life, which includes two of my favorite things: cell phones and internet access. Oh how I missed thee. And it also became a little hard to handle my mother's need for constant conversation, which is for the most part a revolving door of the same goddamn topics. My dear husband hung in there like a trooper, but honestly in the last couple of days, both of us were ready to get the hell out of dodge and back where our normal life of busy-ness and telephone-screening could ensue. I also miss my brother and [brand new] sis-in-law (who's really more like a real sis), who came back from their honeymoon on day 2 of our "relaxation". It'll be great to reconnect with the newlyweds over cheap beer and Monday Night Football this evening.

In conclusion, on our way home from the Way-North-It's-Almost-Canada, I was thinking that vacations in secluded locations when in-laws/parental units are involved can be like being in a mental institution. For the most part, there are good intentions. But a lot of times the outcome just makes you crazier than you were before.

And with that, on with normalcy....

Don't Hate Me Because I Like Her

As annoying as these two particular celebrities are, I can't help but think that the TomKitty is pretty freaking cute.

But it's not making me want to convert to Scientology. Just so that's clear.

It's Baaaaaaaaaaack!

That goddamn gray sweater.

We may need to organize an intervention. Any takers?

What Sorry Looks Like

I got this email forward with the subject line "What Sorry Looks Like..." and then it asked you to scroll down and here's what I found:



I think I just died inside a little.