Showing posts with label All about moi.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label All about moi.. Show all posts

The furry four-legged dictator.

March 13, 2008
A common misconception amongst civilians (people who are not airline crew) is that flight attendants are an uneducated bunch. This (for the most part) is completely untrue. I've worked with former doctors, nurses, accountants, teachers, a school superintendent and even an ex-Secret Serviceman who helped guard the prez. We are a varied bunch with a common thread. A love for flying, travel, interacting with people and eating meals over the trash can.

I tend to learn a lot from my crew and this last trip was no exception. I worked with a great flight attendant who used to run an animal rescue. She has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars, taken in thousands of animals and trained hundreds of dogs and cats. I was in awe. Of course I whipped out pictures of my pups and began peppering her with questions. "Is it normal for my dog to pee on our chair? Why does Winnie always hold her back paw in her mouth? Should we be worried about Hosses aggression when we take him on walks and he freaks out when we see another dog?...." She listened to all my questions with the appropriate nod here and there. Then she turned to me and asked "Does Hoss sit on you? Does he put his butt up to you first? Does he lean on you? Push you? Pee every three seconds when you're on a walk? Bite Winnie when she's in his way?". "Um....ya? That isn't normal?" was the only reply I could muster. She smiled and said "Nope. Your dog is making a jack-ass out of you."

Apparently our dog, Hoss, is trying to take over the world. Starting with his two stupid owners. I think that if we would have thought about it harder we *might* have realized that he had filled out the application for the "alpha dog" role and signed it in blood a long time ago. Our blood. From the dog bites. I didn't mention that he bites? When he was a puppy he bit HARD and drew blood multiple times with those vampire-like puppy teeth. Nowadays he just occasionally keeps us on our toes by giving a polite little chomp on our rear. Poor Joel used to have to flatten himself on the fridge for fear of a chomping of his man parts. An old Hoss favorite. Were probably lucky that we haven't been trying to get knocked up, 'cause I'm sure that can't help fertility prospects.

So as of a few days ago were starting intense doggy boot-camp. The most important part is going to be the crate training . We will follow that up by cutting back on their food (they may or may not be getting a bit pudgy), new collars and individual walks. The biggest part of the training though won't be with the dogs, it will be with us...especially me. The dogs may be my babies, but they aren't actual babies. Apparently they are canines who have very specific needs. First, they need an alpha to show them who's in charge. Secondly, they need mental and physical exercise daily. Thirdly falls my favorite....praise (aka "I wuv you puuppies. You are so preshhhius to meeee baby doggle facessss....). Molly has also volunteered to help me train them when we both have the day off. For free! Holla!

So cross your fingers folks 'cause my rear is counting on it.... Ouch.




Phew. Lets all take a deep breath.

January 24, 2008

Well folks, I have been totally MIA lately huh? I'm going to need a strong alibi to prove my absence. Lets start with the things I've learned in the past ten days.
  1. 100 year old homes have very tiny bathrooms (and usually only one).
  2. Paint WILL get on every surface of your body. Even on your stomach when you are wearing a tucked in shirt that has no paint on it. Riddle me that my pretties!
  3. My husband is oh-so handy! He can cook clean and make pretty things with loud power tools.
  4. Mice will take over the world one day. Starting with our home..... more on this later....
  5. Two dollars and hour is not enough to put me in charge of a medical emergency.
On with the pictures! As you know, we totally remodeled our bathroom last week. New fixtures, paint, towels, curtains etc,. Gone is the lemon-lime look of 1957. Here are the results! Now if I could only find the before pictures. Ugh!


I'm going to antique the vanity soon(ish). We are also replacing the toilet seat cover (I know, you are sooooo thrilled) and changing the faucet to the ever-popular "oiled bronze" finish we went with. Oh lala! On a surprise note we found hardwood under the vinyl flooring. It looks like its in pretty good condition as well. We'll see if we are brave enough to pull the whole thing up.


Well I was working on the bathroom, my brave and very talented husband was constructing two built-in bookcases for our living room. Lone and behold they are almost done! Here is the (close) to finished product. We still have to caulk and put one more layer of paint, hence the blue tape, but I think overall it looks verrrrryyyy nice! I am so impressed that I am now willing to buy Joel the woodworking tools of his dreams so he can build me all the furniture I want! Weeee!

Next topic. My work. Oh joy. I haven't been chronically my journey lately, but in all reality there hasn't been alot to say. Do you really want to know that the salads are delicious in Philly or that they changed the lotion scent in San Diego? No? Well good then. We are on the same page. On the other hand I've been working quite a bit recently. It seems like I go through these phases where I barely work in the summer (could be the fact that I'm married to a teacher) and then I freak out about mid winter and think WHY ARE WE SO BROKE?!?! Oh right, its because I've only worked 90 trips the last 4 months. Then I decide to work 140 and by the time I've reached 110 I want to curl up and die. * Here's a little flight attendant translation. 1 trip = 45 minutes * They key is to work smarter, not harder. We have the opportunity to pick up trips for time and a half 4 days a month so I'm trying to utilize that more. Lots of times I just get caught up in the dollar signs, this month I picked up $400+ in cash from other flight attendants. Where did the money go you ask? In the toilet. Or at least around the toilet in the form of pretty, pretty things.

Anyway. I have quite the story to tell you but I must get going. I'm flying to Oklahoma tonight. We stay right next to a bookstore so 5 of my 17 hour layover will be spent drinking Starbucks reading the latest and greatest. I do promise to write again tomorrow though. I have quite the story to tell (obviously since I've repeated this twice. gah.). A passenger had a heart-attack on my flight this week. I was flying in the "A" position (head honcho flight attendant) so I was in charge. I'm not sure if in charge is the right word but its all I got for now..... I'll fill you in when my head stops reeling.

Loves to all!

Last chapter of the B.F.F.S.

January 10, 2008
Alright guys, I'm putting this one to bed. Since I have no idea when/where this "issue" will resolve itself, I'm going to quit writing about it for now. I'm sure that I'll be let in on this shocking and exciting tidbit sooner or later, and then I'll pass it on. One day you'll be reading about my new hair color and my flight to Denver and the next BAM I'll hit you with the news that I was born with a third kidney. Until then, my dear internet friends, I will no longer be detailing my every B.F.F.S. move. Hope you understand, but the worry machine and I must move on to other issues. Like? Getting my blood drawn yesterday.

Have I ever told you that I'm the great fainting wonder and the last time I had my blood drawn (4 years ago) I passed out laying down on the table? It was a feat of nature I'm told. Anywho, this time I didn't pass out but I did manage to totally freak out Mrs. Blood Drawing Nurse and her two looky-loo trainees. I pulled a few acts from the Exorcist and almost managed to knock the vial(s!) of blood off the table with all my writhing. I'm pretty sure I was worse that a 3 year old. At least you can pin a 3 year old down and she probably won't have a panic attack. I, on the other hand, was a complete mess. I could feel myself slipping into shock/panic mode about 30 seconds in. I tried to meditate and get control of myself but looky-loo nurse #1 kept on telling me to open my eyes and look at the ceiling. After the second reprimand I promptly swiveled my head around three times and in my *best* possessed voice I growled "I AM MEDITATING." I may have puked green slime after that, I can't be sure. I perked up about 5 minutes later when they handed me some OJ and donuts. I was one Sesame Street band aid away from the complete toddler package. Gah. At least I've got another four years to contemplate next time. Until then? Blood, I'm asking you politely to stay in my body where you belong. Thank you. That is all.

Thanksgiving Roundup Part Deux

November 27, 2007
After that dreary picture I painted of Thanksgiving I must clarify a few things. First, yes Claude, the potatoes were gummy. And runny. It was a real treat. Now that you got to hear the worst of it all, let me tell you the best. It was so nice having company over! Especially a friend from ye olden days of Ashlie and Joel. He brought his charming girlfriend with him and we had a blast. By Friday we were all well acquainted and the food poisoning had settled enough that it wasn't putting a damper on his day. So? We went to the Cheesecake Factory, did a little shopping and watched Beowulf in 3-D. Dress any movie up with "3-D" and I'm a complete sucker. Saturday I didn't have to work until 8pm (thank you sweet baby Jesus!) so we hung out around the house for a more leisurely day. Willy helped Joel put the hardtop on our Jeep and Amy helped me bathe Winnie dog after she ran chest deep into 3 ft of mud at our local park. The mud was followed up by burrs which I had to cut out with my sewing scissors. For that I'd like to say: Thanks Amy for not minding smelling like a wet dog! You are a real trouper....

Here's a little something that made me laugh. You may or may not have read it before. A little late for Thanksgiving perhaps, but right on time for Christmas.

There was a young turkey named Fred

Who was forced to live in a shed.

‘Twas quite all right, for six dark nights

‘Til he realized someone wanted him dead.

~

Fred sat on his bed, all alone in his shed

Pondering his own demise.

Innocent was he, til suddenly

He learned of a recipe.

~

Through the swinging door

Flounced a woman, bound for the store.

Her list noted sherry, butter, onions, and spread

With which to baste poor, succulent Fred.

~

Fred gobbled in horror, and shook with dread.

Visions of mayhem danced in his head.

“Bread crumbs will be stuffed,

Where no bread crumbs belong!”

His turkey heart stopped,

At thoughts of the prong.

~

“I’ll be roasted til warm!

My tender carcass torn,

By murderous hordes, with mouths all agape…

Unless I contrive to escape.”

~

Fred bemoaned not his fate,

Nor the loss of his mate.

(She fled to Mexico, Tuesday last.)

Just stroked his waddle and strategized cunning bait.

~

Devoid of malice, Fred hoisted a ballast,

Trimmed with feathers from his own tasty back.

With any luck, it’s the fake that would bake

On the family’s turkey rack.

(Fred hoped it would taste of old, moldy tack.)

~

Decoy in place, Fred waddled for space

In the Underground Turkey Base.

(A halfway house,

For Turkeys in Need Due to Thanksgiving Greed.)

~

Fred’s tender haunches swaying,

The nasty basset hound began braying,

Alerting the cook to the dash,

Of her prized turkey stash.

~

Fred danced through the yard,

As the woman in her rage knocked a bucket of lard.

Fred weaved from post to tree,

The cook weeping and waving her brie.

~

“Stop him!” she cried,

“Our dinner must be trussed and tied!”

So brawny farm boys tore out,

To save for their dinner Fred’s broad juicy stout.

~

Large hands closing in,

Fred’s gobbling made quite a din.

As he braced his round quarters to be

Dunked in sherry, butter, and tea.

~

“Hark! What’s that ringing?

Are those angels singing?”

Thought poor Fred,

Quite distraught at the thought of being dead.

~

Shrill blaring, brought blank staring

From farm boys unfamiliar with advancements like the phone.

“It’s the President!” yelled the woman

Who to screeching and cheese-waving was prone.

~

“That damn Bush! He’s pardoned our dinner!”

Screamed the woman, brandishing for emphasis her salad spinner.

~

“Thank the Great Fowl above!”

Gibbered Fred, suddenly filled with boundless love.

As he said a prayer for Bush

Witless savior of his tush.

~

The farm boys ate spam

While Fred boarded a tram

Bound for parts unknown,

Filled with relief that his cavities remain unsewn.

~

The End

~

A Very Merry Thanksgiving Disaster.

November 25, 2007
Somewhere Martha Stewart is laughing at me. Thanksgiving didn't quite turn out as planned. Don't get me wrong. The decor was really gorgeous and the smells were channelling Rachel Ray but the whole shebang was a mess. To top it off I don't even have a camera to show you the "good" bits. One of us lost our camera and it wasn't me. Of course Joel said it wasn't him either. Anyway, back to Thanksgiving.
Our company arrived early (an hour before I got home from work) which means that I ran around the house trying to get the airplane smell out of my hair, touch up my makeup, bake the biscuits and worry about being a poor hostess at the same time. Multi-tasking at its finest. That in itself was not that big of deal. The real issues are as follows.... One of our guests had food poisoning and couldn't eat a thing let alone barely hold himself up at the table. I had managed to *sip* two glasses of Riesling by 5pm and my cooking skills went downhill from there. I decided that measuring cups were for sissys and I eyeballed all the contents of my green bean casserole and biscuits. It went something like this "Tra lala, I loves me some wine but now I must make some green bean casserole. What is green bean casserole anyway? Have I ever even eaten it? Would a large bag of frozen green beans equal two cans of green beans? I'm going to say yes. YES TO THE FROZEN GREEN BEANS. YEESSSS!" and later "Hmm... I don't have a potato masher. What shall I do? I know! Lets put the potatoes in the food processor! Weeee!". You get the point. I was a hot mess. If I was to make a recipe for my Thankgiving it would have looked something like this.....
  1. First, take one guy and give him food poisoning at The Hard Rock Cafe.
  2. Douse with Riesling.
  3. Add some more Riesling.
  4. Add to much garlic to your potatoes and then put in a food processor for "pureed" rustic potatoes instead of "mashed".
  5. Throw some Bisquick in a bowl. Add what you think may be one cup of milk. Or was it two? The Riesling no longer cares.
  6. Make something that resembles this mythic green bean casserole. Do not worry about the actual amount of green beans put in. The fried onions will save.
  7. Top with Riesling.
  8. Pour butternut soup into roasted acorn squash bowls. Laugh when it spills over. Throw some sage on top even though you are pretty sure its supposed to be Thyme.
  9. Set cold soup on table.
  10. Light candles.
  11. Move centerpiece 'cause it is WAY to tall.
  12. Call guests to dinner. Even the one puking in the bathroom.
  13. Warm up pies. Pies can do no wrong.
  14. Nervously watch people eat.
  15. Make sure sick guy doesn't puke on table.
  16. Offer to bring out pies. No one wants pies.
  17. Crawl into bed with bottle of Riesling.

Okay. Number 17 may not have happened but you get the picture. I'll fill you in on more of the festivities tomorrow.....

Love,

The Hostess without the Mostess....

More Pie Please....

November 11, 2007
So much for the luck of the Irish. I'm back with no more than a *hint* of color and a Key Lime Pie belly to boot. Looks like my Iroquois genes failed to back me up on my tan. Oh well. My dermatologist will be happy that I made some effort with my SPF 8. Anyway, on to more important things. Like pictures! And pie.

Day One, Pie Count: 1

We woke up at an ungodly hour on to get to the airport by 5:45 am. Not as big of a deal for my dad and I because a nap was imminent on the plane ride, but poor Joel had go directly from the airport to teach millions of middle schoolers. Sad for him. But this isn't about him. It's about me. And my dad. Oops.
We landed in Fort Lauderdale around 9:30 am and picked up our rockin' Hyundai Santa Fe. Precisely $5 in tolls and 2 hours later we arrived in Key Largo at our destination, the Amoray Dive Resort (WARNING: if you click on the link you will get an inexplicable urge to rent The Little Mermaid or dress up as a crab). I'll let the pictures take it from here....
First we explored the resort.....

I wonder where I get my "witty" sense of humor from? Apparently the dive resort forgot to advertise its killer coconuts.

Then we drove down to Key West. Stopping only to use the filthiest bathroom in the world.

My dad wanted to see how his cigars were made so we stopped at this little shop and watched the lady make Joel a couple of cigars. Raspberry and apple. They are now in the freezer. I think Joel just likes knowing that he has a couple of Cubans on standby.

This is the Hemingway House. As you can tell by the bars it was closed. My dad refused to hoist me over the top to see the mutant cats. I suggested a stakeout complete with cat nip but once again he refused. Bah.

Day Two, Pie Count: 3

We set sail for our snorkeling trip early afternoon. The weather was warm and the breeze was calm as we made our way out to the Molasses Reef. My dad and I, being the only uncool snorkelers, kept mostly to ourselves. Once a diver found out we were snorkeling they would usually say "oh, you're snorkeling..." followed by a sniff and a subtle turn to start a conversation with another diver. The segregation was almost comical. Even the crew who was so focused on the divers forgot to tell us to stay within 100 feet of the boat as to not get HIT by other boats. At one point as I was following a couple of barracudas only to look up and see a huge glass bottom boat within spitting distance. The passengers were about to see a new species below their feet....bloody snorkeler.

Aftermath: My dad and I have decided to get dive certified for next year. Once I realized that I couldn't pee on the divers below me snorkeling lost most of its charm.

I love this picture! My dad taking the big leap off the boat. I used the ladder. I am a wuss.


Why are all these people so pensive looking? Are they contemplating what to do when they meet the local Nurse Shark, Lucy?

This is the windblown look. Complements of sea water, sunshine and uh... wind.

If I was a super hero I'd be Wetsuit Woman. My powers would be squeezing into tight Lycra outfits and making pouty faces. My arch Nemesis would be bloat and botox.

Day Three, Pie Count: 4

Before we made the sojourn home we decided to check out Key Largo and Islamorada a little more. Of course we ate more pie. God bless Key limes and the pie they live in.

We got a complete demonstration on glassblowing. And a headache. I don't know how these people can stare at that flame for hours on end.

One of my favorite stops was at the Wild Bird Rehabilitation Center in Key Largo. This little old woman rehabilitates all kinds of local birds who have been injured or abandoned. She does it purely through donations. The picture below is Pickles, an 80 year old parrot with a big mouth. Apparently he will talk your ear off around closing time. Since it was 2 o'clock we only got a very good impression of a wide-load truck backing up. Or maybe it was a siren. Either way it was amusing coming from an ancient parrot.


What have I learned from this trip? Four pieces of pie in three days is too much. Coconuts can kill. Dads can be friends as well as parents. Diving is the way to go. Doggy paddling can save your life. Wet suits are NEVER flattering. Sharks aren't as scary if they have names like Lucy. Glass blowers will eventually end up blind, and parrots will always bite your finger if they get the chance.

As my European friends would say, I'm taking a "mini-holiday"!

November 5, 2007
I can't remember the last time I went somewhere with my dad. Without my mom or four siblings. I think I may have had a perm and was probably wearing a Hypercolor tee shirt... Ah, the 80's. So last spring when I suggested taking a vacation, just him and me, he jumped at the idea. We decided on going somewhere warm to do a little snorkeling. Eight months later, here we are packing for our vacation to the Florida Keys. He arrived from Washington yesterday with his signature farmers tan and a look that cried "I NEED A VACATION NOW". Don't worry dad. We'll have your tan evened and that stress melted away faster than you can say "Barracuda at twelve o'clock!"....

We leave tomorrow morning for 3 days of fun and sun. We're staying at a diving resort (#1 in Florida! It's like diving in Heaven only with more sharks!) in Key Largo and venturing out from there. Of course we'll be checking out Hemingway's five toed cat menagerie and the other colorful delights of the Keys. At least being a vegetarian means that I won't be pressured into eating gator nuggets anytime soon. Bleck. I'll report back as soon as I can! Mostly so I can make you jealous of my new glowing tan. Thank you Native American genes.
Here's to hoping I don't get eaten by a shark. Toodles!


p.s. I know there are a few questions I haven't answered yet (bad, BAD Flight attendant!) but I promise to get to them this week. Or next. Soon! I swear on a five toed cats life.....

It's really kind of sad.

October 29, 2007









I am just a few years shy of 30 and I've only been to 3% of the world's countries. And I work in the travel industry? For shame, for shame... My goal is to bring it up to 10% by my 30th birthday. I'm figuring Europe will knock out a bunch at a time. An then maybe Israel. And New Zealand. And Thailand. And... I'm going to have to win the lotto aren't I?

Question of the day: Where have you been? I'm sure a lot of you can beat my measly 3%!

It is on like Donkey Kong! M'kay Blogger?!?

October 13, 2007
If anyone can tell me why my graphics only work every other Tuesday I would be much obliged. Blogger may be free but it's making me rip my hair out and hair, as we all know, is expensive. Especially little sparkling highlights every 2.5 months. I digress. I know about as much HTML code as my grandmother and it's really starting to piss me off. Am. So. Over. It. Help? HELP?!?
If you can solve my problem I will give you my... um... my... I'm not quite sure. How about my respect and undying love and many, many mentions on my blog? If you have no clue about Blogger (adding extra emphasis on the BLAH) please let me know which platform you use. Wordpress? Typepad? Did you have someone design your page? Did you do it? Do you want to design a page for a partially insane peanut slinging flight attendant? Hmm? HMMM?

*backs slowly away from little Dell laptop as it starts to whimper....*

Update 11pm: NOW the graphics work. Of course.....

(by graphics I mean the picture of the cute waving flight attendants and the daisy)

In the words of my hero, Jesus, "It is finished"....

October 8, 2007
By now you are probably clawing your eyes out screaming "freakin' finish already!". Okay, Okay! Keep your pants on and hold your horses 'cause I think we are finally done.

#6. I am totally uncool. In fact, I am a wrinkly 80 year old woman trapped in 20 something year old body. Not in a demonic or reincarnated kind of way, more in an 'old soul' kind of way. I tried the crazy college thing, the sorority thing and even the "I am cooler than thou hitting the LA clubs" thing. These "things" made me anxious and didn't quite fit, much like O.J. Simpson's infamous glove.
That's when I felt the true 80 year old in me. She was calling me to higher pursuits. Like gardening. Sitting by the fire and reading a book. Watching old movies with my husband and a big bowl of popcorn. Made on the stove. Baking cookies for my neighbors. Baking cookies for my husband. Eating all the cookies myself. Cross country skiing (score one for the 20 year old hips!!!). Learning to sew and crotchet. Drinking copious amounts of prune juice (just kidding)! You get the point. Like I said before, I am totally uncool. The only thing that saves me from being absolutely tragic is the fact that I read about 8 million magazines a month on the plane. My fashion sense may be more Audrey Hepburn's love child with Jessica Biehl and Katie Holmes (ménage à troi!) dressing blindly in the dark than Sienna Miller but I'll take it. My only worry is that someday I will fall off the slippery slope of not caring and never look back. Then I'll be more Rosie O'Donnell. And it will be sad.


#7. I love my husband. I would have to argue with anyone who said their husband was the best. Because mine is. Hands down. My perfect match. *Shout out to God- Thanks for the great man! Love him! You did good!* Here's a rundown of our history...

~ We met (at church) when I was 17 (barely) and he was 15 (almost 16). Yes, I am a cradle robber. I pursued him. I think I might have scared him even. But regardless, we started "going out" 2 months later.

~A year later a cop busted us making out in the parking lot of our college football stadium. I was 18. He was a minor. It was humiliating. (Hey filthy minds, it was just good clean, clothes on kinda fun).

~ We broke up twice. Realized that the grass was actually brown and had no sense of humor on the other side.

~ Joel proposed in a very sweet elaborate 9 step "treasure" hunt. We were married a year after that in a small ceremony of 35 people. It was magical. We have been together since February 98 and married since April 05.


What can I say? The end.


Out. Of. Breath. (Get it? From playing tag! No? Bah...)

October 5, 2007
Well, here we are still playing tag and I have yet to complete my seven "fun, unique facts" about my life. So here I go with #4-5. Put down any sharp objects and step away from the oven. We wouldn't wany anyone hurting themselves.

#4. I am petrified, let me repeat PETRIFIED, of bears. It all started out innocently enough. In high school my friend Betsy and I took a road trip to Glacier National Park which is an absolutely amazing, gorgeous place. We were planning on staying at one of the Glacier campgrounds but at the last minute decided on the local KOA. Which quite possibly saved our lives. We woke up the next morning to find flyers splashed around the KOA about a fatal bear attack the night before. In the same campground we had planned on staying. We were so freaked out that we did the only possible logical (ha) thing to do. We went to the convenience store and bought a book on bear attacks. We then proceeded to read every gory detail to each other as we drove through the park one last time. I am becoming okay with black bears (smaller, less likely to eat you type) but Grizzles will always be out of the question. It got so bad that at one point on my layovers in Anchorage and Fairbanks, Alaska I was actually peeping around corners for bears in the middle of town. Who knows when a rogue bear could wander in and decide to scalp you at the local mall? I'm not taking any chances.

The picture below is on a hike in Yosemite (black bears only) a couple years ago. Notice the can of bear spray? Lets just say that I had a very itchy trigger finger all 12 miles. I think Joel got a little nervous...




#5. I have had many, many different jobs in the last 10 years and I'm not even counting the millions of babysitting gigs or jobs held under 3 months. During high school and college I had a voracious appetite for clothing and way to many credit cards. Learned my lesson. Plastic = from the DEVIL. In fact, I'm pretty sure that Visa may stand for very insane stupid a-hole. Just a guess. Anywho, here they are from beginning to end.

Janitor. Very classy. I preferred the title "cleaning lady". Apparently I scrubbed the floors well enough to be promoted to Cashier. Those were my first two at a local pharmacy. Well I was a cashier I also worked at a "sales rep" for Abercrombie & Fitch and then Banana Republic. Five years later still own some clothes from both stores. And I wonder why my wardrobe is out of date? Gah.

Next, I decided to try out the fitness venue. I became a certified personal trainer for a local gym and also took a certification class in aerobic instruction and finally Yoga. At Washington State University I taught aerobics and yoga classes. That was fun. I have never been more limber or in better shape. Helllloooo triceps!

During my last semester of college I started working for the Devil again as a manager at Abercrombie & Fitch. Apparently I am a gluten for pain. I spent almost two torturous years in the pit before being hired on at my first airline. I loved being a flight attendant from the get-go. No job has ever fit my personality so perfectly. I spent a year with this airline before applying to one on the east coast. During this time I worked for a small, but mighty escrow agency as an escrow officer assistant. I assisted a wonderful english woman who was one of the sweetest employers I've ever worked for. Occasionaly she would get in a foul mood and let a few words fly. It was then I learned that its nearly impossible to be offended by anyone with an accent. Even when she swore (which was rarely) it sounded musical. Eventually Joel and I left Los Angeles and moved to Baltimore where I started my current position as a.... do I really have to say it? Duh.

I know that I said I would provide #4-7 today but I give up. Must actually do something productive with my day than sitting on the couch. Gah.

Tag you're it! Please tell us 7 interesting things about you!

1. Julie

2. Michelle

3. Lisa

I will have 4 more people lined up tomorrow so be prepared!

Tag! Your're It!

October 3, 2007
Behind this bubbly, blonde persona lurks a much darker, crazier creature and I'm not just talking about my natural hair color. Enter Abbie, who tagged me a few days ago to find out (the lucky number) seven things that you didn't know about me. Buckle up, 'cause here we go!

1. I come from a family of five kids. FIVE kids. I am the oldest. Which means that I strive to please, am used to being the center of attention and try to gain and hold superiority over other children/people/animals. I was an only child for six years which makes me even more self-centered. Although I would never admit to any of this with my excessive pride and all. With that said who wouldn't want to be my friend! Wowsa! I have a 21 year old brother, 20 year old sister and 17 year old twin sisters. My parents were really, really busy to say the least.


2. My hair has been every shade of the rainbow and just about every length. I was born a blonde and it kept on getting darker and darker until I was a really disgusting ashy bronde color. That was 8th grade which, consequently, was my first experience with highlights. Ah, those blessed little rays of sunshine streaks in my hair. I couldn't get enough. I was cold, hard addicted. It took me about five years to rebel against blonde=beautiful and go dark. Really dark. Too dark. Then I went red. And orange. And blackish. All the while I had a asymmetrical bob, choppy shag or a long and frizzy 'do. Here's a picture of a recent do a couple years ago. You can tell that its about 100 degrees different right now. Personally I rue the day that I let a beauty school student "trim" eight inches off my hair. I miss my long hair. Moment of silence for the hair.

3. My left thumb is 1/2 an inch shorter than my right. Not only is it shorter, its also wider. And no, I did not get it slammed in a door or hit by a hammer. And yes, it does make for a great party trick. You know the story.... you're at a little "gathering" and there seems to be an awkward lull in conversation. Enter Ashlie's thumb, "Hey ya'll! My thumb is deformed, wanna see?". If people don't chuck up their mini quiches then it usually starts a rousing bout of conversation about double jointed elbows and mystery rashes. You should try it! Tres gentil!


Join me tomorrow for #4-7. I'll also be announcing my picks for the next tags... you could be the lucky tagee!
Chances of winning are 1:7. Void where prohibited.