Justin Bieber

So Austin and I have been married for almost 10 months now (yippee!).  In that time, we've discovered that we pretty much only have one thing in common: Television.  We love our TV shows.  Namely: Scrubs, The Office, Castle, Glee (me), and all things Sports-related (very much him).  We recently decided we better try to substitute the pizza that usually accompanies this joint hobby with more healthy eating habits so we can work on losing the 60-some-odd pounds we've collectively gained in the past 10 months but...that's not what THIS blog is about.  I'm fat and I digress...

Anyway, here's what this blog is really about: Justin Bieber.

If reading that name made you roll your eyes and forced an "oh you've gotta be kidding me" kind of groan from deep down in the recesses of your soul, you're in the right place.  On the other hand, if reading that name made you feel things that should only be felt when you take that first bite of Cheesecake Factory Oreo Cheesecake, LEAVE NOW.  You are not welcome here and may God have mercy on your soul.

So, if you're still reading: Justin Bieber. If you don't know that name yet, just wait 5 seconds. Austin didn't know who he was either when we started watching SNL last Saturday night, but that's only because the kid was born no more than 5 days prior to the taping of that episode.  If you Google Image the name, you're gonna get a kid who looks like he's fresh off the Disney Channel emo farm.  I keep waiting for the tabloids to break the news that Miley Cyrus and Zac Efron had a kid together when they were 6 years old and named him Justin Bieber to keep anyone from finding out. But, oh snap!  Surprise!  The kid's got a voice of pure gold! We did NOT see that coming.

Unfortunately for the tabloids though, no substantial evidence has been released to make a claim like that.  YET.  (You heard it here first, folks.)  Actually, what I find super strange is the fact that this kid was founded by none other than what I like to call the King of hip-hop himself: Usher.  Yeah, that's right, freakin USHER.  I mean, come on! Unfortunately for Austin, I'm not an expert in hip-hop by anyone's definition.  But I do know Usher.  And I had respect for Usher.  No more.

Anyway, one of Usher's posse saw some self-made YouTube videos that Justin posted of him singing songs by JT, Chris Brown and others, including an Usher song or two, and flew the kid out to meet Usher.  Then Usher pretty much signed him immediately and now gets the allowance of every kid in America.  Those who still buy CD's anyway.  And officially made JB (that's Usher's cute little nickname for him) Usher's bank best friend.  Usher even makes an appearance in JB's video for "One Time," basically allowing him to throw a party for a bunch of 12-year olds in his own house and get silly string stains all over his perfect white walls. F that man. F that.

There are plenty more things that bother me about this kid that I'm not going to go into in detail because I should find other productive ways of pretending to work at work.  Bubble Blaster won't play itself you know!  But I will touch on those points: For one, through all of this nonsense, where is the "single mother" that raised him?  And who the heck taught him that sucking in your lip after every line in a song would drive the tweens wild? 

But, when all is said and done, I really only need to say one thing: What the heck are all these people gonna do when this kid finally hits puberty?

If you laugh at this, your soul might suffer...

The following is a 100% true story:

My Dad works with this lady in Overland Park that takes care of her 20-something, mentally handicapped nephew.  While at work last week she got a call from him that went something like this:

Nephew: Aunt ___ you have to come home, right now!
Aunt: Why? What happened?
Nephew: I caught a troll!
Aunt: What? What are you talking about?
Nephew: I caught a TROLL!

Naturally, the Aunt just assumed that he was playing around or was somewhat confused so she said she'd just see it when she got home after work.  However, the nephew was so insistent that she come home that she decided she better go see what all the fuss was about.  She told her Supervisor something had come up at home and left work early that day.

When she arrived home, there were a few police cars there and she started to get worried.  She spoke to one in the yard and, after confirming who she was to the 20-year old man, the police told her what happened.

Brace yourself...

Apparently, a Census worker was in her neighborhood that day and stopped by her home.  That man just happened to be a little person; a midget.  Her nephew answered the door and was immediately confused.  He thought he was looking at "a troll."  He grabbed the poor guy and locked him in a closet until the police arrived.

People, for the love of all that is holy, fill out your Census.


PS - The police were able to convince the man not to press charges by reminding him that, if he did, he'd be on the news as "the troll who's suing a mentally handicapped man." 

PPS - Just so you know...my soul is toast.

Life IS like a Box of Chocolates...

Well my boss has been gone on Vacay for the past week so I've had some free time on my hands.  To fill this time, I took to reading all my past Facebook messages and my old Blog entries on Xanga.  All of them. I know, I need a life.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that it was a very eye-opening experience and, if you have anything like that (old blog, old letters, old diary, old messages), I recommend taking the time to go through them.  It is amazing how much your life can change in just a few short years.  Things I never would've imagined happening to me have and things I could've sworn would happen, haven't.  Situations that I used to stress over now seem to be so stupid.

But the thing that struck me the most was the relationships I've had over the years.  People I would've sworn would be a part of my life forever have fallen (or been pushed) away.  Most of them were not intentional by any means.  It's perfectly natural to lose touch with someone when you haven't seen them in a few years.  You grow in different ways and don't have the same things in common anymore.  A few months ago, I got to spend some time with some of the girls I used to hang out with in high school.  It was a blast to talk about "back then" but it was also pretty apparent that we had all gone in different directions since, and now had our own, different lives. We had a good time reliving some of the fun and not-so-fun moments we had in high school but, other than the occasional "Happy Birthday" Facebook comment, I haven't spoken to any of them since.  But that's not a bad thing.  Like I said, we've moved on.

However, some of the relationships in our lives fall away because of carelessness.  While reading my old Xanga and all those messages, I realized I had more of those than I originally thought.  And it's kinda put me in a little funk.  I did quite a bit of smiling and LOLing at some of the comments and messages I received from people that used to be my closest friends but, now that I'm done, I'm sort of left with this weird void.  Unfortunately, I don't speak to those people anymore.  And unfortunately, it's not because they've just "fallen away."  Some of them I pushed away for good reason but some for what I only thought was good reason.  Either way, I really miss those friends.  And, if any of you happen to read this, I'm sorry if I hurt you.

Even though I know this post seems a little emo, please believe me when I say that I am not bitter.  Or sad.  I definitely miss those friends, but I also had a surge of joy, especially reading all those old blog posts and seeing how far I've come in the past 5 or so years.  I have the best husband anyone could wish for, a pretty good life and a great future ahead of me.  I really am very blessed.

I will tell you one thing though:  If I'm ever again asked the question, "Where do you see yourself in 5 (or 10) years?"  I'm not going to answer.  :)

Blessings,
Mandy

Raw Fish

So Austin gets struck every once in awhile with these weird hunger pangs for Sushi.  Weirdo.  I mean, come on.  Besides the fact that the stuff is awful, we pretty much couldn't be farther from any body of water worth eating whatever you catch out of it.  Unless you LIKE Clinton Lake tuna...

Anyway, when he gets these pangs, normally, we visit a Chinese Buffet in Larry that also serves Sushi so we can both satisfy our appetite.  We've been there at least 5 times in the past month. But that's beside the point.  This blog is about me.  Here's the real story:

Every time Austin gets Sushi, I have this weird desire to try it - just in case it wasn't as bad as last time.  It always is but I still always want to try it.  He'll see me eye-balling his plate and say, "Are you surrre?" like I'm some dumb kid who knows it's hot but keeps grabbing the stupid burner anyway.  He's right.  Inevitably, I try it.  And inevitably, I hate it.

Here's the problem: I actually CRAVE the crap.  Have you ever craved something you hate?  What's up with that?  Last week, I even got super sick off the stuff but still...here I sit...craving Sushi.  It's so weird and I hate it.  I have this theory that my body refuses to believe that something so minuscule as raw fish wrapped in rice can master it.  I mean, I love brussel sprouts, spinach, cabbage, liver and onions, and most things that would make others spend their night in the latrine.

"You cannot defeat me!" -My body

The problem with that theory is that I don't have the desire to overcome my hate for the tomato.  Those things can just stay as far away from my mouth as possible, thank you very much.

Austin and Marshall both think I'm some sort of Sushi masochist in desperate need of help.  The non-sexual type. They think I enjoy the fact that my gag reflex is activated every time I put some of that seaweed wrapped nasty in my mouth.  Enjoy the gag reflex?  What am I, a model?

Though that would explain why I dated some of those guys as long as I did...

FML

For those of you who don't know, yours truly is currently employed with American Family Insurance [pause inserted here because I know you're singing the jingle].  I actually work for a District Manager who is over a good chunk of Agents in the KC Area.  So, if you live in KC, have insurance with American Family, and have a complaint about your Agent, you could call me.  And I'll tell you to call State Farm.

There's actually a whole lot of fun going on here at American Family...for everyone else.  I recently scheduled a week long trip to Cancun for my boss and 6 of our Agents, along with the District Manager, District Manager Assistant and 5 agents all from another District.  Now, maybe you caught that and maybe you didn't.  That's right, I said District Manager Assistant from another District. "But wait. Aren't you a District Manager Assistant, Mandy."

Yes. Yes I am.

For some reason, I didn't get to go on this week long, paid vacation to Cancun.  Why?  I've narrowed it down to 4 reasons:

1. My District Manager doesn't like me as much as hers likes her.
2. My District Manager fell asleep in his office the day he was supposed to ask me to come.
3. My District Manager was afraid I would let it slip to his wife just how much he falls asleep in his office.
4. My District Manager found out I spend 85% of my day emailing Marshall about how he's sleeping in his office AGAIN.
5. No one wanted to see my pasty white skin in a 2 piece.

Personally, I bet it was #4.

-Mandy-


PS - Told you my life is boring now.

For Maggie

I was shocked to find out today that people still venture over here in search of some sort of life-affirming post by yours truly. Apparently, these people miss me so much, that they come over just to read my last post, hoping that, in some way, it will still speak to them in the here and now or I will magically show up and give them that hug they so desperately crave.

People, I'm going to say this as gently as I can: You need to know that I will never again be able to satisfy your deepest desires. I am married, for heaven's sake. Do you know what that does to a person? It turns them into the most sinfully boring person alive. There is absolutely NOTHING blog worthy going on in my life right now. Until Austin and I decide to move to Costa Rica, take hip-hop dance classes, jump off a bridge, or, God forbid, get pregnant, I have nothing to tell you. I mean come on, it should be obvious how un-noteworthy my life is by my constant Facebook updating. I'm even following the latest profile pic changing trend! Gross.

So, unless you really want to hear how I colored my hair for the first time ever out of some need for change, leave me be. I happen to enjoy stewing in my own boredom, thank you very much.

In the words of the great Dr. Perry Cox: “I suppose I could riff a list of things that I care as little about as [your need for my blogging]. Lemme see, uhh…. Low-carb diets. Michael Moore. The Republican National Convention. Kabbalah and all Kabbalah-related products. Hi-def TV, the Bush daughters, wireless hot spots, ‘The O.C.’, the U.N., recycling, getting Punk’d, Danny Gans, the Latin Grammys, the real Grammys. Jeff, that Wiggle who sleeps too darn much! The Yankees payroll, all the red states, all the blue states, every hybrid car, every talk show host! Everything on the planet, everything in the solar system, everything everything everything everything everything everything–eve–everything that exists — past, present and future, in all discovered and undiscovered dimensions. Oh! And Hugh Jackman.”

Sincerely,
Mandy

Take A Bow

Brace yourselves folks. Mandy's about to blog about her most embarrassing moment...

Here's a story for you: When I was in high school, my dad, my best friend at the time and I went on a road trip to check out future college prospects. Little did I know that what started out as a fun-filled weekend would turn into a story that would haunt me for ages.

Oklahoma Christian University was having their "High School Preview Weekend" and the campus was overrun by High School students from all over the USA (i.e.; all of Oklahoma, some of Texas and 3 of us from Kansas). I was doubly excited because I knew I'd be seeing some good camp friends, including the love of my life at that time (though he knew nothing of my passion).

The weekend was a blast. I met up with the camp friends, spent some time talking to my not-so-secret crush and met the choir director (of course). Life was good. By this time, I was completely convinced that I'd be attending OCU after graduation. I had not a doubt in my mind that this was the campus for me. Until Saturday dinner in the OCU cafeteria.

My best friend and I had just finished dinner and were heading back to the buffet-style setup in search of dessert. I grabbed a delicious looking brownie and placed it on my small dessert-sized plate. I turned around and became instantly intrigued by a shiny machine on the counter behind me. I thought I was dreaming at first as the words "ICE CREAM" seemed to glow from the silver. Free ice cream?! This is the BEST SCHOOL EVER! What a perfect addition to my small chocolate brownie. Or so I thought...

I approached the ice cream machine, seeming to glide across the cafeteria, completely oblivious to the some 200 people milling around me selecting sandwiches, pizza, cereal, and their own small brownies. I was heading straight towards heaven.

As I reached up to grab the handle of the ice cream machine, my other hand instinctively placed the small plate with the brownie underneath the spout from which I knew the glorious heaven-food would soon be dispensed. Then I pulled the handle towards me.

At first, nothing happened. I was somewhat disappointed and had a brief thought that, perhaps my dream wasn't going to come true. But then I heard the machine begin to growl, as if waking up from a very deep slumber. It growled for about 3 seconds as I waited patiently for a stream of delicious looking vanilla ice cream to flow. And then...

POW!!!!

With a sound equal to that of a shotgun, the machine suddenly sprang to life and spit about a gallon of milk right out of the spout blowing the plate and brownie right out of my hand and completely covering me in milk. I turned around, dripping in sticky, sugary milk and became suddenly aware that the entire place heard the awful gunshot and had stopped their milling around to stare at the vanilla-soaked high schooler in the middle of the cafeteria. The ice cream machine was from the opposite of heaven.

"You trusted me! You fool!"

Now, at this point in my story, you're probably chuckling a little, maybe even lol-ing, if I told it well. And, if I stopped right there, you'd probably go on with your life thinking, "Man, that sucks," maybe make some ice cream related joke in the comments section ("Knock knock - Who's there? - Ice Cream - Ice Cream Who? - Ice Cream of Jeannie!"), and go to Baskin Robbins to fulfill the craving I just gave you. And I could let you do that. And I should let you do that. But instead, I'm going to tell you the worst part of this story:

As if the ice cream machine blowing up on me wasn't enough, there's more. When I tell this story of my most embarrassing moment, people usually chuckle but then fully intend to let it go. I don't usually get made fun of for such a moment because what happened wasn't my fault and really couldn't have been avoided. And if I would just shut up and not share what I did next, I'd probably go down in history as the person with the cutest most embarrassing moment ever and a legitimate reason for a fear of vanilla. But I never do. I just can't leave it at that. I always tell what I did next:

When I turned around to see all those people staring at me, unaware that the machine's handle was still down and ice cream was flowing freely onto the floor behind me, I could think of nothing else to do...but take a bow.

Stand up, you idiot!

Why did I do it? I have no idea. I suppose it was my way of milking the opportunity of 200 people staring at me. I figured they got a good show, I should accept my applause.

There was no applause. Just laughing. Sometimes at night I can still hear the laughing...

"Maybe we could teach you a thing or two."

As I'm sure you can imagine, since this incident, there have been many an occasion where I've done something remotely embarrassing only to be followed by a bow from one or both of my loving little brothers or one of my so-called "friends" that I've chosen to share this story with. It's the bow that haunts me.

If only I had let the story stop at the dripping in vanilla part! Why God why?! Why must I face this humiliation?!

So now I suppose you're thinking, "Well Mandy, if you are so embarrassed by this incident, why do you tell it so publicly on your blog?" Because, my friends, I have found a solution!

Do you have any idea how many famous people bow?! My personal favorite: Conan O'Brien.

And not just for the awesome Mario World-like backdrop.

Haven't you people ever seen Conan give his monologue?! That man puts his hands together and bows after almost every joke! And you love him for it! You LOVE HIM FOR IT!!!

Or what about these divas:

See the titles of those albums?! "TAKE A BOW!!!" To Rihanna and Madonna (whoa, that rhymed), it's not an option, it's a command!! I was simply following direction.

I will never again apologize!

Chocolate Rules,
Mandy

PS - I went to Lubbock Christian instead. NOT because of this incident. *Ahem.*