Sick in the bed, sick in the head.

Today I was feeling under the weather. I started off pretty sick, and then as the day progressed and I ingested more and more chicken noodle soup, I started feeling better. That is until I heard the NEWS.

I had a ton that needs to be done, but it was nice to just take a day off in the middle of the week and catch up on my sleep and TV/reading/internet. So, this is what I did today:

Woke up. Decided that I felt like crap, called the Knight and Daisy to tell them I wouldn't be going to class, and went back to bed.

Woke up again. Watched Grey's Anatomy and Ugly Betty on abc.com while doing some work for an upcoming trial. Yeah, I was very successful in watching the shows, not so successful in getting work done.

Next, I ate chicken noodle soup while reading "Eat to Live." If you have ever read this book, you know that what I was eating totally goes against everything the book stands for. I got some sort of sick pleasure doing exactly what the books advises against, but of course I know that in the end I'm really hurting myself by eating the cancer and heart-attack causing soup rather than subsisting off of fruits and veggies. So, I'm starting to "eat to live" tomorrow. But not today. Because I don't feel good.

Then, I learned that Reese and Ryan are splitting up. Whoa. News of this magnitude is almost enough for a perfectly well person to take the day off, but for me - who is already sick? Well, that was enough. After learning this, I crawled in bed for the rest of the day. I am still there. And I will only come out for Boston Legal.

And if you don't see me at school tomorrow? Blame Reese and Ryan.


Because sometimes Phil needs a hand...

Sorry I have been bad about posting. You know the reasons - busy, nothing to say, Ugly Betty. It just wouldn't be a post from me if I didn't begin with profusely apologizing. So here it is: SorrySorrySorrySorrySorry. You know, waiting for a post from me is kind of like waiting to have sex until marriage. You don't know if you are ever going to get married, and even then, when you do, you never know how good is the sex really going to be. Waiting on posts from me is pretty much the same thing. Without all the sexual frustration.

So, this past weekend we had big plans, my friends. BIG PLANS. Eating, drinking, cornhole, football, candy corn, repeat and rinse. As many of you know, UT played this little no-name school, also known as Alabama. Who's ever heard of the "Tide?" What kind of mascot is that? For some reason, playing Alabama is kind of a big deal to UT. Something about a rivalry. I really have no idea.

The Knight's undergrad frat bros came into town to stay with us.

Here they are:

They are Bama fans.

In the spirit of kicking ass and taking names, the Knight and I had to do something.

Naturally we had to prepare for battle.

Naturally, we had to kick it up a notch.

Naturally, we had to get feisty.

So we came up with a plan.

Our plan was as follows:


Preparing for BAMA BATTLE - Artsy Fartsy Style - PART I - Making Scary Faces.

Kids, here is my game face.

I recommend listening to SexyBack while you look at this picture.

Because not only am I striking fear in all Bama fans across the nation, I am also bringing...well, you can just fill in the blank.

Scared yet?


Not even when pictured with the weapon of mass destruction in the foreground also known as my massive white purse?

What about when you take into consideration the scary alien plant-growth-sidekick to my left?

Still no?


Fine then. Let me introduce you to the fiercest of the fierce, the scowliest of the scowl, the dirtiest of the dirty...

I give you the MUD MAN.

EEK! I know - you are probably cringing and shaking in a corner -

Especially when you view the navy stripes on his shoulders that bring extra POWER.

Those aren't part of his shirt.

They are lightning bolts the Knight harnessed and wrapped around his body.

You are probably shivering and wishing right now that you had never heard of artsy fartsy ... wishing you had Harry's invisibility cloak.

But it is gonna be okay.

It's just a picture.

And as long as you aren't a BAMA fan, viewing is not toxic. I think.

Alright. If that didn't scare you, then this next one will. This is UT's secret weapon. She might be pink and cute, but that is just a cover-up. Rub her the wrong way, and the claws come out.

People, meet ZOMBIE GRRL. One look from this creature, and you will melt into a puddle of human ... puddle.

FOLKS, I'm telling you, this face is probably what the guy in the Scream was looking at when he was getting painted..

This face:

Yikes! Bam! Bop! Squish! SMMmmmrmrr.

You are now a human puddle.

As you can see, Zombie Grrl also has a scary green plant-growth-sidekick. And a towel rack.

You are probably white with fright right now.

Okay, if you haven't keeled over dead yet.

Or you are a sucker for masochism, I present to you the DANGEROUS DUO -

Yes, I know we are intimidating.

Especially with the Orangeness. With water spots.

Yes, I know that we look like reverse raccoons.

Yes, I recognize that our faces are very dirty.

With a fancy smancy mud mask.

But when you live in Knoxville, even fancy smancy reverse raccoon inducing mud masks are scary to BAMA fans. Because BAMA fans are silly. And they are scared of Orangeness. And water.

Preparing for BAMA BATTLE - Artsy Fartsy Style - PART II - Eating Italian and Going to Toddy's.

After our initial attack of ferocity and monstrosity, we were hungry. So we decided to fuel up. Because even warriors have to eat some time.

We dined at the Power Ranger Savelli's Station - because they serve a krypton-free macrobiotic menu. And that's how we roll.

Here, the Knight's cousin joined us. He is not a weapon for UT. He is worse. He is an almost pharmacist. From Georgia.

His powers include pointing at objects and enlarging them to twice their size.

This is very helpful when you have gained weight and you need bigger pants.

This is also helpful when you live in a one bedroom apartment, but you are throwing a 200+ keg party.

Here is one such victim of his powers - the Vulnerable Calzone:

Amazing, isn't it?

And to think he looks so nice and unimposing.

But that is part of his attack.

He just smiles at you like he just brought you your newspaper and mowed your lawn and then BLAM!

Twice as big as before.

You better hope he doesn't point at your nose. Or your uvula. That would be sad.

So while the Pharmacist and the Mud Man were polishing their super intimidation powers, Daisy and I were using another power to lure Alabamians into defeat.

We smiled.

At each other.

The feminine mystique has never been so powerful.

Remember all of those Bama fans that I mentioned earlier? Well, at this point in the evening, they were mustering up the courage to stand up and try again. After falling down when looking at us and our scary faces. Even though they knew it was futile.

But then when we smiled.

At each other.

Well, they should have just thrown up their wrinkly hands (hello? they have been playing in the TIDE after all) and went home.

But they didn't.

Those little tenacious suckers.

Like leeches. Just like leeches.

They didn't run home at all.

Even when we pulled out all our threatening weapons.

Pictured here.

How could they resist wine?

And roses? Don't they know about the thorns?

What about the kissey-prints?

And the wedding bands? Just those two rings should have been enough to scare the beGeorge's out of them.

Maybe they didn't see the kissey-prints. Yes, that explains it.

The rest of the evening we tried ancestral war dances.

And baring our inner beaver teeth.

And at one point it looked like they might run away.

We thought we had them.

But no.

So, as you can see, we made a valiant effort. And that was just Friday night. We haven't even gotten to Saturday yet.

Preparing for BAMA BATTLE - Artsy Fartsy Style - PART III - Tailgating.

Now, if you think our efforts so far were weak, here's where we really get nasty.

In case you were wondering, UT Tailgates are serious business.

Especially at White Columns.

First, we donned more ORANGENESS.

And we put on our anti-Bama eye-protectors. Because sometimes, too much Crimson can make you sick.

We found one BAMA sucker separated from his migrating group.

We smoked him.

In case you were wondering, BAMA isn't even good when BBQ'ed.

Then the Knight got ugly.

With the bean bags.

He threw.

And threw.

And threw.

And by the time he was done, not a single Bama fan was standing nearby.

Because they were all at the game.

Where we had to drag the Knight to, because he is love with cornhole and did not want to leave.

BAMA BATTLE - Artsy Fartsy Style - PART IV - The Reckoning.

But we finally made it.

And it was beautiful.

Now, I'm not gonna lie.

Despite the Knight's, Daisy's, and my best efforts to intimidate BAMA, they were playing better than the VOLS. I know. I can barely write the words. But it's the truth.

In fact the first half was dreadful.

We were very bored.

See our boredness?

I apparently purse my lips when bored.

But then our awesome band came out and did the CIRCLE DRILL.

It cheered everyone up.

And things got better.

"How much better?" you ask.

Hmmm, are you really ready for the answer?

I'm not sure you're ready.

What have you done to deserve the ending of the story?

Okay, for goodness' sake - don't go googling it or anything.

I'll tell you.




The (very happy and exciting) end!


Look! New Artsy Fartsy! Extra Shiny! Extra Fancy!

I just switched to the new Blogger "Beta," and I must say that I really love it. It was super easy to use and now I can make my site a little more tailored to .... me!

As you can see, all of my favorite blogs are on the left - People I Luff! I have also added a new little teaser "about me" section that you can see on the page, or you can click on the link that takes you to the complete profile. I didn't change anything with the profile, but I like you aren't bombarded with the whole synopsis of ME when you first get to my blog. I know that all this blog is about is me anyway, but I have to preserve some facade of not being self-absorbed. Right?

Also, now you comment through the link that says "X pair(s) of shoes...on sale!" Why did I change the name to this? Because that is how I feel when I find out I got a new comment from someone - like I just found a new beautiful pair of shoes, on sale.

Hope you enjoy the updates!


Daisy's 15 Minutes of Fame...

I have often spoken about my beautiful friend, Daisy, and our fun times together. One thing I think I have failed to mention is that she has an equally beautiful and sweet boyfriend who I'll call Leroy (after that song "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown, the Baddest Man in the Whole Damn Town). Why? Because I want to, that's why.

ANYWAY, Leroy graduated from our law school, and now works as a big fancy attorney in New Yawk. Because NYC is waaayy more fun than where we live, Daisy goes to visit him as often as she can. This past visit, they went to this cute little brownstone house that also happened to be a restaurant. While they were dining, photographers and a reporter from the New York Times asked if they could take Leroy and Daisy's picture for the paper's review of the restaurant. The Times also took photos of several other patrons, so Daisy and Leroy highly doubted whether their picture would be featured in the article

The article came out today, and ..... my beautiful friends were in it! Here is the link.

Congrats Leroy and Daisy - you are now SUPA STAHS!


Officially a Member of the 21st Century!

Hi! Guess what? The Knight and I finally have a digital camera. We are sooo excited! And we have celebrated by drinking lots of wine and taking hundreds of pictures of each other! Look babe, we can take it in SEPIA! Or PORTRAIT! What about that SPECIAL FLASH THAT GETS RID OF RED-EYE? Really, the possibilities are endless. This is the one we got.

Please forgive any typos. I make no apologies. Heeee! We have been playing with it all day long. Of course, the Knight's version of playing with the camera is trying to sneak taking pictures of me in my underwear/naked/various levels of undress and then me promptly deleting them. But secretly? I love this honeymoon stage with the the digital camera. While I have this little fear that one day, one day, I'll forget to delete all the incriminating pictures and one of my friends will get a snapshot of me in my birthday suit, it is fun right now.

Okay, so that's all for now - here are some pictures for proof! (Sorry, no underwear shots)

Here I am. Doing that gay over the shoulder pose. Doing what I really love doing more than most things - cooking! This weekend the Knight and I made a roast with carrots, potatos, and onions. And then we made chocolate chip cookies. And then we gained 50 lbs.

Here is the Knight! He is sitting on the couch, taking pictures of me, and playing on the internet. That about sums up his weekend.

Here we are - after drinking much wine! Isn't the Knight's smile so big and pretty? He is such a nice boy. Also, here you can see my braces. I hate them, but there isn't much I can do about it right now.

Here we are again. Probably after drinking more wine. You can tell this because our moods have switched from giddy to coy. Well, at least the Knight is coy. I'm still just giddy.

There are many more pictures, but the rest were terrible. And I really do think Chinny is getting even bigger. We are definitely not destined to be famous, photogenic celebrities. No one will ever stop us in the mall and ask us to be the next big supermodels. But, I think I am okay with that. Being a supermodel is so overrated.

Speaking of supermodels, the Knight had never seen the movie "Superstar" with Molly Shannon. When I learned of this, naturally I was in shock. "Supermodel Documentary Hour" is one of favorite parts of the movie, and this weekend, the Knight finally got to see this missing part of what makes me...me. When I was in college, my friends and I spent an afternoon learning the Superstar dance, and so, of course, I had to demonstrate for him. Hey, no one ever said that I was cool.

This was a weekend of superstars, smalltown supermodels, and sweets. Sigh. All in all, it was perfect weekend.


Thank Goodness She Didn't Pull Out The Tickle Me Elmo...

On Sunday, I went to my first sex toy party. Sure, the euphemistic name is all "Girls Night Out" or something like that, but let's be honest here - it was a sex toy party ... straight up. Just picture your typical Mary Kay or Pampered Chef party, but with sex swings and lube instead of cheese graters or mascara.

Daisy and Crazy Mitz went with me. In fact, it was Crazy Mitz's friend who was hosting the party. That was kind of awkward, too. Out of 12 women, I knew 3, and here I was having my toy-ginity taken away from me in front of all those giddy, mimosa lubricated witnesses.

But, really, it started off nicely enough. First, we all got our mimosas and primly sat around the living room, eyeing one another somewhat warily. We each had nametags with mortifying adjectives in front of our names. Kream in my Face Karen, Licky on the Dicky Nicky, Muff-Munching Megan. Yuck. I felt like I needed to wash my shirt after taking off my nametag. Next, our lady introduced herself and gave us a little background about her self. She is a divorcee' with a young daughter. She started selling sex toys after she got laid off at a bank. I guess she decided that playing naughty bank teller would be more fun if she got a discount on all her accessories.

She started by showing us what I'm told is considered the "soft stuff." Nice sprays, yummy lotions, and glitter. Stuff that you can buy at Victoria's Secret or the Body Shop. Fun pretty stuff. Then, she passed around the flavored lubes, numbing creams, and all kinds of things to tighten you up, loosen it out, or make it more tingly. Fascinating. Who knew there was so much stuff to put on your hoo-haa?

After that, she started passing around these cute little silver tubes called "the bullet." I mean, the "Bullet"? That is hilarious. The bullet seemed harmless enough. It was small, shiny, and pretty. Kind of like a sterling silver egg. After the bullet came all these accessories shaped like happy animals. These happy, silicone animals slipped over the bullet to stimulate different spots. They didn't seem too scary. Most of them had smiling faces and were pretty colors. Kind of like cute ipod skins for your vibrator.

Then, she moved to the big girl stuff. Yikes. I have to say, the dildos terrified me. I'm not really sure why. I think it disturbed me that everything was so siliconey, so colorful, so fakey and so battery operated. I was told by other guests that these dildos were good quality, so I'm not saying that the stuff was crappy. It was just so...foreign to me. You know that little symbol on the back of your laptop that indicates where you plug your iPod or jump drive in (the USB Port??)? Well, that little symbol is kind of what all these toys looked like. Kind of like a torture device for all your holes. EEEEEk! It was this part of the party that I'm sure I annoyed some people because I was so squirmy, shrugging my holders, wincing, and turning my head away. As if it pained me to look at the large penises. Which I guess it kind of did. Like I said, they all looked very scary.

Also, our lady used a lot of phrases like "crotchrot" and "dookshoot." I definitely could have done without that.

To me, the openness of the group was the most mystifying. In my experience, most women are uncomfortable about talking about the intimate details of their sexual escapades with a large group of close friends. It seems that those kind of talks only develop when its just a few close friends, in a small group. However, this didn't happen at that party. Strangers - perfect strangers - were willing to share tips, positions, personal experiences with no nervousness or embarassment at all.

Anyway, I am undecided how I feel about this sort of thing. On one hand, I appreciate that women in our society are embracing their sexuality. I think it is great that women my age aren't afraid to gather around with other friends (or strangers in my situation) to buy dildos, cock rings, and all sorts of sex stuff. I personally still struggle with the idea of sex as being "dirty." I think this feeling relates back to attending years and years of church youth conferences, "True Love Waits" classes, and being raised in an ultra-conservative Christian southern family. Getting married soothed some of that stigma, but going to a party like this still felt kind of wrong. And if not wrong, at least in the gray area between what's proper for a girl and what's not. Parties like this take away the "hush-hushiness" of sex and makes it something normal for all women. It's not just a man thing anymore.

On the other hand, having some strange lady tell me to put this cream on my nipple as casually as if she were giving me a sample of lip gloss is a tad unsettling. If you are going to tell me to put something on my nipple, I guess I want you to whisper and possibly pull me in the corner so that no one else hears you. That way, if I actually do follow your suggestion, I can just pretend like I'm itching, rather than testing out the "Boob Juice."

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