Corey & Stacie's 400th Post!!

Overheard in the Locker Room

Pet Peeves and Arm Fat

I hate whispering.

It is definitely on my Top 10 list of Most Annoying Things In The World, along with power outages during my Thursday night TV time and the If I Had A Million Dollars song.

And sometimes Corey.  But he already knows this.  Because it's his goal.

I hate it because it's so obviously subtle.

...

I think I just canceled out...um.

So what I mean is when you whisper to someone you're letting everyone else know that they are not privy to your business.  I may be a serial over-thinker, but this says, "The person I am whispering to is more important, aka better than you, and can know my secret stuff."

And in my own paranoid world it also means, "I wanted to tell this person, who is better than you, remember, something that I can't say out loud because it is about how you look ridiculous in those leggings."

The fact that I don't know what the offending whisperers are saying leads me to think the worst:

"It's my hair, isn't it?"

"Did I forget to brush my teeth??"

"Is my skirt tucked into my underwear again?!?"

I may have an overactive imagination.  And I think everyone talks about me...

...for some reason.

How is arm fat related to this post, you ask?

It isn't.

I just got the email below from my BFF around the same time as a whispering incident that set off this rant post.

"i noticed this tiny little faint line just below my bicep and above my inner elbow crease. at first i thought it was a scar and that maybe i had scratched myself. but then i did a couple of bicep curls and saw that it was in fact - a fat crease! AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

She followed her (very detailed) description with an accurate depiction of said arm fat crease:

I may or may not have peed my pants a little.

Paint Overboard

I love the paint program on my computer in the same way I love grown-up cartoons...childlike appearance but adult content.

I recently went through old paint files on my computer and had myself a brief chuckle.  I'll share them, but I promise you will think I am the weirdest person you almost know.

But first: I spend a great deal of time chatting via email with my friend Jill.  Oftentimes, it is necessary to illustrate a conversation.  The following pictures are part of those conversations:

I, uh, don't remember this conversation, but the long standing joke is that Jill looks like Suzanne Somers (you can see the resemblance in the lips, I think I captured them perfectly)...

...and I look like Gina Davis.  See, we both have mannish jaw lines.  And angry eyebrows, apparently.

I was day dreaming about the Reese's candy bar I stashed in my drawer.  Notice the detail in the eyelashes, and eyebrows look less angry here.  It's hard to be angry when you're thinking of chocolate.

My after work plans.  Can you guess what they are?  Can you guess why I gave myself a beak, a brick in my pants, and a receding hairline?

This was not actually part of a conversation.  It was my response to one of my wedding guest's comments about how we did not include a picture with our thank you cards like "everyone" else.  See how appreciative Corey and I look in this rendering?  No, I don't either...

And this is why I'm weird.  Ok, now we're back to conversations with Jill.  We were trying to solve the mystery of the pee splatters in her office bathroom.  The case: she would often find said random splatters on the toilet seats in the ladies room (duh).  The culprit: unknown.  My theory as illustrated above: old lady hover (note the granny socks pulled up to the knees).  She does not want to sit on the seat, nor does she have the leg strength to hover within inches of it, so she hovers 6+ inches above, causing the pee to fall from a greater distance allowing it to gain speed and create a bigger splash.  Although convincing, Jill went with a different theory.

I have a few more that involve me trying out different hair styles, but I'm saving those for a rainy day...and a brain fart.  ("jeez, why does she always have to go there with the fart talk??")

Winter Wonderland

Ah, snow...gotta love it. 

No, really.  You gotta find a way to love it or you spend the next three months in a feelings coma.

I find snowshoeing to be very relaxing and peaceful.  Just me and the elements. 

But first I have to pull on my 4" thick snow pants, zip up my arctic resistant coat, lace up my 5lb super insulated boots, and cover remaining exposed skin with hat, scarf and gloves all before I can walk out the door....then I walk back in the door because I forgot to potty.

Saturday was an excellent day for snowshoeing.  The weather was unseasonably warm (foreshadow...), so my dad and Kimberlie followed a similar dressing/potty process and we all drove out to Moreau Lake State Park for a quick jaunt around the lake.

Quick, as in as quick as our weighted little legs could maneuver size 55 snowshoes around tree trunks, snow/ice chunks, and dog leashes.  In other words, not-quick.

It's excursions like these where I wish I had a little pocket camera to document all of the wonderful sights:  beautiful snowy landscapes, frosty dog whiskers, Kimberlie falling through the ice....

"What?!"

Uh, yes.  My dog's whiskers were all icy.  It was sooooo cu....Oh, the other thing.

Yeah, Kimberlie fell into the lake.  Snowshoes and all. 

I felt like it all happened in slow motion.  There we were, my dad in front of me, Kimberlie in the back, the dogs chasing something somewhere in the woods.  Suddenly the ice cracked.  We heard a scream followed by a splash.  Now we're in super, super slow motion.  We turn around and see:

"Ohmigosh!!  You're IN the lake!!"

"...and your nose fell off, apparently....(oops)"

See where a camera would have been helpful here?

Everything was fine.  I yanked her out and she squirsh-squirsh-squirsh-ed all the way back to the car.

And then I played kissy face with my cutie wittle snuggle pie because his wishkers were just too tootsie cutsie!

Yankees: Champions of the World.

....well they will be.  Maybe.

But I'm not here to argue the awesomeness that is the Derek Jeter machine.  I just thought I'd share a few highlights:

• Brand-spankin'-new stadium, awesome.

There is actually a screen that shows every single word that is said/sung in that stadium.  However, when Mr. Posada comes on the screen for a little announcement in his native tongue what you see is "(Speaking Spanish)".  I wonder, why put the video message on the screen and not the words?  Is it impossible for there to be deaf Latinos?  Shame, shame.

• 5 hour and 10 minute, 13 inning game in rain, sleet, and cold.  Opposite of awesome, but still worth mentioning.
• Home run in the 11th inning to tie the game by the steroid-free Alex Rodriquez, or as we Yankee fans like to call him, A-Rod.  See what we did there?

• Numerous random-stranger high fives with this super fan:

• 5 foul balls.  Almost had 'em.
• A Kate Hudson sighting. 

She left early.  How do I know?  Corey kept watch.  Close watch.

Two Yankee playoff tickets:  $250

One cheesesteak and Godiva hot chocolate: $35

Waking up on the ride home to Corey singing and dancing to keep himself awake: priceless

Happy (one month) Anniversary!!

And this is my gift to you, Corey:

14 days...

I really like the paint function on my computer. I think it helps illustrate my points. Although I am especially proud of my ice cream to quesadilla comparison, I think my brain function diagram will knock your socks off.

The drawing is, duh, my brain. And the different colors represent what my command center is currently working on.

Use the key below:

Pretty good with the mouse-crayon if I do say so ma'self.

The point of this illustration: I forget things sometimes.