If only putting on a pair of eyeglasses could keep my identity secret.

A while ago, I reached my one year blog-iversary (January-ish?). Somehow it passed without my knowing. Let me assure you that if I had noticed, we would have definitely celebrated. With wine and cowboy boots and maybe even jelly beans. Probably getting a little too crazy here, mentioning the jelly beans and all, but that is the kind of celebration we would be having.

I am really stunned that I let such a momentous occasion pass. I am the kind of girl that celebrates my birthday for an entire month, and uses every other holiday as a chance to a) buy myself new clothes and b) buy chocolate and other sweets because, hey, it is (fill in holiday name here) and I just can't ignore Boxing Day just because I am on a diet.

As for the blog, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about it. I was reading this article in one of those lawyer magazines I have been getting ever since I joined the ABA (for the PMBR discount of course), and it was talking about your online identity and how that can affect your chances for getting a job. The article basically said that having a blog/facebook profile/myspace page doesn't poison your chances at getting hired unless it is filled with things that employers won't like. I understand this is a very gray area, and apparently the article's author did too, because s/he went on to say that since it is hard to determine what could be a bad thing to keep on your profile/blog, run the "Grandma" test.

Basically, look at every picture, phrase, comment, song, background image, and story and think to yourself "Would I a) want my Grandma to see this and b) would she be proud of it?" Since both of my grandmas are extremely conservative and prim Christian ladies, I think this test works for me.

But, some of you may have Grandmas who are crack dealers or "wild flower children" or crazy, fun-loving, spunky Grammy's who go to Mardi Gras each year, get a full body painting experience ("dragons? Yes. Snakes, not so much"), and run to Rio with 27 year old hottie named Juan. On a Vespa. In your case, the Grandma test might not be the test for you.

Maybe those of you lucky enough to have Grandmas that fall under the second category have a blog/internet profile. Don't fret. I suggest for you the "Aunt Bea" test. You remember her, right? Andy Griffith's mom? I can just hear her saying "Now Andy, what kind of father lets his son post pictures of himself with black eyeliner on the Internet? What will the neighbors think?"

So, either way, this is the kind of criteria you are supposed to keep in mind when editing your Internet presence.

I don't know how I feel about this. On one hand, I have tried to keep my facebook and myspace profile nice and clean. If there are any pictures of me that have been tagged by friends that I feel are unsuitable, I untag them. If someone posts a stream of cuss words on my wall, I promptly press "DELETE" (which happens never, but if it did then I would laugh and then sadly delete it.)

But my blog is different. I haven't done the best job of trying to keep it anonymous, but at the same time, always kind of hoped that if anyone job-ish related found it and traced it back to me, they would have a sense of humor. My very first post talked about farting. They would need that sense of humor if they read that post. I mean, that one screams "PLEASE HIRE ME. I AM A VERY MATURE, WELL-SPOKEN INDIVIDUAL WHO WOULD MAKE YOU LOTS OF MONEY AND WOULD ONLY TALK ABOUT CLASSY THINGS" I have also talked about marriage, children, sex toy parties, Secret Lovers, and a host of other topics that a potential employer might not find amusing or desirable in a candidate.

The rebellious part of me says (who is so rebellious, she doesn't even capitalize properly), "so what? who cares? why would I want to work for someone who didn't understand my sense of humor? who isn't tech-savvy enough to understand that blogs are common and i am an individual with a personality." The logical and practical part of me says (who is all about proper-y grammar and is kind of a Debbie Downer) "You are not independently wealthy. You are too fat and short to be a supermodel, don't have many acting skills, and have a seriously pointy chin. You have already married, and your husband isn't exceptionally wealthy either. Thus, you have to get a job, self, and your blog could jeopardize finding a job, any job, in this tough legal market."

So, I am wrestling with what to do with the blog. I could always start censoring what I write now, but I already kind of do that, and I already feel like a big ole cheater. Out of kindness to my friends and family, I have to omit a lot of the things I find most humorous in life. Plus, I don't really like using cuss words, but I always find them to add an extra element of recklessness and silliness that is hard to capture otherwise. But, I still don't use them. Speaking of word choice, you should see how I stress about writing even the most mediocre phrase. For example, I was raised not to take the Lord's name in vain. So, all my life, I have said "Oh my goodness" instead of "oh my God." But, that is still pretty much saying the same thing, and it makes me sound like my vocabulary is also peppered with words like "swell" "keen" and "heavens to betsy." So, then I have to find some other term to use. OMG is a little to texty for me. "Gosh" I use sometimes, but it falls under the same swell category. So, instead I use lots of !!!!. I guess I could talk about lawyerly things and whatnot, but I talk about that stuff all the time in real life. I don't want to come home and discuss the confrontation clause and the NLRB again when I'm sitting on my pretty green couch. No, pretty green couch time is reserved for creative and happy things, not the law. (which, hi employers! I do like the law. Just not when I'm on my pretty green couch!). Very frustrating.

In other news (thank you, Mr. Newscaster), I really enjoyed the Academy Awards. One question, why is it also called the Oscars? I need to look this up.

I rarely watch awards shows, but I hadn't anything better to do for the evening, so Betty and I curled up on the couch and watched. And watched. And watched. It took forever! But there were definitely some interesting moments. First, I really liked Ellen's hosting. She is so funny and easygoing - who else would try to get a picture with Clint Eastwood taken by Spielberg for her MySpace page? I wonder if she actually has one. If not, she should definitely create one, just for that picture.

Second, when little Mr. Jayden? Smith came out to give awards for "short" stuff, he erroneously read the next line of the teleprompter before he gave out the previous award. Instead of getting embarrassed or flustered, he shrugged it off with as much charm and ease as a seasoned actor.

Third, I thought it was hilarious how all the celebrities were nodding and cheering along with Al Gore and Melissa Etheridge with their "We're concerned about the environment" faces. I felt like I was watching a Green revival.

Finally, I am fascinated with Martin Scorcese's eyebrows. I kind of want some for myself. They are probably going to win an Oscar next year for best supporting actor, they are that interesting.

Of course, the fashion was fun to watch, too. My favorite dress of the evening was probably Penelope Cruz's. And, even though everyone is hating on Gwyneth Paltrow's choice, I thought it was awesome. Complicated and eye-catching, but not too over the top.

I love Meryl Streep, but what was up with her outfit. She looked like the cooky art teacher who showed up late to the school PTA meeting. Was she making a statement that although she played a fashion maven in a movie, she doesn't give two dimes and a nickel for fashion in real life. Was she proving to all of us exactly how good of an actress she really is, because I believed she was Anna Wintour. Meryl, honey, we love you, we know you are a good actress, and it doesn't hurt to dress up once in a while.

Okay, well, that's all for now. If you have any thoughts on the blog, lemme know.

Artsy Fartsy likes bowling, but thinks it could be hazardous to her health.


I'm no Carolyn Keene, and this ain't about no Nancy Drew.

Another thought on the car with the "flowery/colorful" language. I think I have figured out the impetus for such a hostile statement to be permanently inscribed on such a cute little vehicle.

The owner's vehicle, let's call her Katie, is a cute little sorority girl. Katie is probably a little flighty and definitely very flirty. She wears designer jeans, is constantly on her cell phone, and routinely discusses important life matters including which tanning salon has the hottest bulbs, who has the cheapest beer, and which fraternity has the hottest and richest brothers. Her major at UT is either PR or Communications. She has lots of admirers, including a couple of stalkers.

One such stalker sent her a bunch of flowers one day. Let's call him Nick. My guess is that he is probably a guy that Katie flirts with so that he'll help her/let her copy him in a class they share together. She coyly bats her eyes, he hands over his answers and his heart, and she merrily skips off clueless as to the power she has over him. Nick watches from afar as Katie chases after fratastic dude after fratastic dude. Although deep down Nick probably knows that Katie only wants him for his answers, he still retains a tiny glimmer of hope that she truly does love him, but just doesn't know it yet. He knows that he and only he can really fulfill all her needs and sooner or later, little Miss Katie will come around.

So, Nick does things. Like sending flowers. And doing sweet/odd things that he thinks Katie will like (i.e. fixing her computer, giving her leather condition for her loafers, Nick Lachey's latest CD, and a book about the origin of pearls). He also bugged her apartment, like any good stalker would do.

Over the past few weeks, Katie had begun to grow tired of Nick. Sure, his answers were helpful, but they weren't always right. On her last test, she only made a 92! Nick was going to have to do a lot better than that, if he wanted to continue to be privy to her charms. Plus, he had been more visible in her life than she preferred. He actually showed up as the Kappa Sig kegger last weekend and tried to talk to her. The nerve! Speaking to her in class is one thing, but in public at a party? What would her sisters think? And how would this affect her run for Kappa Sig Cutie?

Nick was furious with the way Katie had treated him. He had to promise to write several papers to get to be able to even be let in at the party, and then she ignored him the entire night. He had done everything he could to make the night right. Earlier in the day, he had sent her flowers. Then he spent fifteen minutes practicing in the mirror what he would say when he saw her at the party. "Hey Katie" or "Hey Katie" or dare he try "Looking Good, Katie!" He flossed, squirted on his special cologne, a bottle of Polo he received as a gift from his sister at high school graduation, and pulled on his freshly ironed khakis. He was ready for the big night.

After being so rudely neglected, Nick trudged home to watch his nightly taped program. He liked to call it "Katie's Adventures" but really all it was a videotape of images recorded in her dorm room since the previous evening. He had been bugging her room for the past 4 weeks, ever since Katie had asked him to help her fix her laptop. All her computer needed was an update on her virus software, but while he was there, he secretly placed a camcorder disguised as a Panda paperweight. He didn't think Katie would notice or even remember the new addition to her sorority mascot collection, and if she did, he was certain she wouldn't toss it. Ever since its placement, the camcorder's images had turned a harmless crush into nearly an obsession. Nick always found it fascinating how much time girls spent deciding what to wear, how long they took putting on makeup, and how much they gossiped about each other, especially when the latest victim left the room. What pained Nick most as he watched the recording each night, was how much Katie talked about boys, but never mentioned him. Each night he rushed home, hoping, anxiously hoping, that this night would be the night he learned that she liked him.

Unfortunately for Nick, this particular evening was like all the rest. The normal days events unfolded - Katie and her roommate getting up, dressing, fixing their hair, leaving the room for what Nick assumed was class, but actually was lounging in the square and then shopping (evidenced by their return with shopping bags). Then they returned to watch TV. Sometimes it was to watch Days or Oprah, sometimes to work out, sometimes to nap. It was the evening time that Nick learned the most about Katie. When she gossiped with her roomie/best friend about which sister slept with which other sister's boyfriend, Katie's new VW bug, who was getting fat, and what was going to happen that evening on Grey's Anatomy. While the girls prepared themselves for the kegger, a knock at the door was followed by the florist's delivery of Nick's flowers. After initially squealing with excitement, Katie's face changed from joy to annoyance when she read the card. Her roomie asked "Who is it from, Katie?" "Oh, just some guy in one of my classes. You wouldn't know him, he's nobody." Then, after glancing one more time at the mixture of carnations and daisies, she grunted and tossed them in the trashcan while stating "Flowers are so 80's. I mean, carnations and daisies? That's what I got from my date at my Middle School Snow Dance. Yuck."

Nick sat there stunned. He couldn't believe that Katie, his precious Katie, could so callously throw away his flowers. He had spent a lot of money to order those flowers. Two evenings of trying to tutor three of the most moronic jocks on pre-algebra. How dare she? And to her, he was a "nobody?" But they talked every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Sure, it was about class, but still they saw each other as much or more than Nick saw his friends. Nick was mad. Angry. He needed to teach that shallow twit a lesson. And suddenly, he knew what he needed to do. He grabbed a roommate's giant Sharpie, dressed in black, and quickly walked to the parking lot where Katie parked (something he also learned from the videotape). Then, right before he scrawled a giant tirade on her hood about the importance of being polite, he switched the marker from his right hand to his left, and in typical fratastic style, scrawled the words "Flowers are so 80's, you c*nt b*tch."

And that my friends, is what I think really happened.


Peanut Butter. Little Nugget. Mr. Roundworm.

In honor of Valentine's Day, I am going to share with you a story of what I believe is an incident of love gone wrong:

While walking home one day last week, I passed a cute little silver VW Bug parked on the street.
What was so remarkable about the Bug, was that scrawled on the hood of the Bug in bold black magic marker were the following words:

"Flowers are so 80's
You c*nt b*tch!"

This was very perplexing to me. Why would someone write such a thing? What is wrong with flowers? And what is wrong with the 80's? And why the use of such colorful language?

I glanced in the window and I saw a few lilies in the bud vase most VW Bugs have.

My thoughts on what the author was talking about:
1. S/he really hates flowers, especially lilies, and the placement of said lilies inside the car was so offensive to him/her that s/he felt the need to a) share his/her thoughts on the hood of the car and b) use permanent magic marker so that the car's owner would constantly be reminded of the author's opinion.

2. Perhaps the VW owner gave the author flowers as a gift, and the author did not like the gift, and felt the need to share rather vehemently his/her displeasure.

3. Perhaps the VW owner received flowers from someone other than the author (a secret lover perhaps?), and the author did not like that either.

I really wish the VW owner would put a little note on her car, explaining what in the world has occurred. Most perplexing indeed. Really, flowers ARE so 80's. Deal with it.

In other news:
Yesterday, my car got broken into. My CD player was stolen, as well as my iPod and my little iTrip thingie that uses the radio to play what is on my iPod. Strangely, my beautiful Coach clutch that I had left in my glove box had been discarded in the floorboard. This is the 3rd time my or the Knight's vehicles have been robbed. Despite the fact that I knew I wasn't in any danger as I approached my car, a host of fearful emotions swelled inside me. I felt violated, angry, and for some reason a little scared. I would say that I can't wait to move away from Knoxville, but then I am reminded the NEXT I am moving to Memphis, which is probably even worse.

Also, yesterday Betty got her 2nd sets of vaccines/dewormers/etc. The girl has been so much fun, but she has been seriously wearing me out. She sleeps in 1 and 1/2 hours increments, pees and poops 5 minutes after she ingests anything, and when she is awake is a neverending supply of boundless bouncy energy. I really feel like a new, single mom with a unusually energetic infant. Anyway, the vaccines made her oh so sweeeepy, and that made for a very sweet and peaceful evening. (Seriously, where can I find these drugs for her everyday?) That is, until the worm came to visit. Apparently, little Miss Betty had roundworm, and after getting vaccinated, Mr. Worm packed his bags and moved out. In one long spagetti like piece. Right in my apartment. Completely uninvited.

I was unprepared for this reaction. Yorkshire Terriers for Dummies did not mention this possible result. Naturally, I was quite frightened and extremely grossed out. I hurriedly called the vet, and was told that she was fine, to put the worm in the bag and bring it to the vet tomorrow, and to watch Betty through the night.

After hanging up the phone, I burst into tears and cried for about 30 minutes. I cried so hard that when I called the Knight, he thought Betty had died or had been seriously injured. Feelings of panic, remorse, exhaustion, guilt, and love for little Betty overwhelmed me. It is amazing how much I love that little nugget after only 5 and 1/2 days of knowing her. When she puts her tiny head on my chest and looks up at me with those big brown eyes, I feel as if the weight of the world has been lifted and she is all that matters. I know, I sound like a complete sap. But I have never felt this way about anything. Ever.

Of course, after learning that my little pup had worms in her AND that they were somewhat contractable, every little stomach rumble that I experienced made me worry that I had worms. Top that off with the fact that HOUSE featured a girl my age suffering from a 25 foot tapeworm, and I was one frazzled, sleepless person last night.

Not to worry though. I'm pretty sure I am fine (although I must admit that the weight loss potential through tapeworm and/or roundworm is quite tempting at times). I took Betty to the vet again this morning, and little miss is okay too. She does have roundworms and Coccidia, but we are doing everything we can to help her get through both of these (apparently common) problems.

(Betty is okay with having roundworm. And pretty much everything else. Honk-shu...Honk-shu...)

(Betty getting her first bath. She went from Yorkie-Poof to Yorkie-Who?)

(Already she's learning to charge at the paparazzi! )

Okay, I guess that's all for now. Sorry I don't have more funny stuff to write, but no sleep = no ability to effectively use scatalogical humor.

Artsy Fartsy better not get roundworm. But if she does, at least that means she can eat more Cheetos.


Whoopsie Poopsie!

Hey everyone! Hi! How are you?

I am very, very good. Thanks for asking! Yes, I have some exciting news for all to hear. Lately, it seems that's all my life has been lately. Newsy newsiness news.

Last night, the Knight came to Knoxville. This is not unusual, as this is basically what he does each weekend. He usually shows up on Thursday night with his rolling suitcase, a few hanging clothes, and stays until Sunday night.

So, when he arrived last night, nothing was different. Well maybe except for this goofy lopsided grin he had. He showed up a little earlier than I had anticipated, but other than that - same ole, plain ole.

I grabbed his clothes to put in the closet, while blabbering and apologizing that the bedroom was still a disaster, why are you here so early? how was your drive? I made pork for dinner! why are you laughing at me? (I had been under the impression I still had two more hours - US Weekly is such a cleaning distraction).

I turn around to grab his suitcase, and what do I see but a little ball of puppy waddling on the carpet in our bedroom! I will always have that image in my head - her little white and chocolate body of puff snooting around and learning all about her new home. Apparently, while I was in my verbal vomiting mode talking to the Knight about all the events of the week, little Miss Betty Rascal had been getting acquainted with my underwear, socks, and piles of shoes (remember - messy bedroom).

I have been in a state of sheer giddiness and euphoria ever since. We had been talking about getting a puppy to keep me company during the week for a while, but since the Knight is allergic (I kind of am too), we never thought we could have a little indoor dog. However, as I mentioned a month ago, we visited the Knight's cousin and fell in love with their little Yorkie-Poo, Miss MacClean. Yorkie-Poos are little or no shedders and substantially hypoallergenic. During our stay, the Knight didn't have one reaction, and their house never once smelled like doggie. Since then, I have been wearing the Knight out with repeated and soulful requests that we go get one.

Well, now we do! I present to you the lovely Miss Betty Rascal in all her glory:

Betty and Papa:

She is nothing but a tiny poof! of fur. 7 week old 1 & 1/2 pound poof.

I am very busy now being a doggie parent. Who knew that one tiny little creature could create so much poop and pee?

(Hmm. I think I'll poop now.)

And hello? Paper training? It is very hard. Never have I been so attuned to watching for the "squat" in my life. I swear she hovers on my rug just to make me jump from across the room, sprint to her, swoop her up, and hurriedly place her on her paper spot. It must be quite entertaining to watch!

Well, I am off to go play with Queen Froofiness! I'll post soon!


Monkey Monkey Underpants

Questions that people ask which bring them to my website. All of them have a theme - GREEN
Because I am nice and want world peace, I have decided to answer them.

"What goes with green couches?"
Pretty much everything, but especially white and brown. And wine. Lots of wine.

"Women that are shopaholic how much do they spend?"
More than most men will make in two lifetimes. That is why we go to law school - so we can pay for our habit.

"WHO is Martha Stewart's boyfriend?"
This is by far the most popular query. I believe it is Charles Simonyi, a billionaire who created Excel. Why I have become the expert on her love life - I have no idea. Go Martha.

My New Year's Resolutions.
I don't really like making them, but I did make two this year.
1. no shopping for clothes for the entire semester (this one was later amended with an "unless it is absolutely necessary and/or an emergency.") So far, so good. Of course, I did just have a major shopping spree in Chicago a few weeks ago, so I have been content for a while. But Spring Break shopping will present new and fascinating challenges. (Also - technically speaking, purses, shoes, and other accessories are not clothes. Just making that clear here. But surprisingly, haven't bought any of those either.)

2. exercise or clean while watching TV - this one has been go okay too, so far. However, I find that my apartment has become miraculously cleaner this semester. Further proof that I will do anything, even scrub the tub and the grimey part around the toilet, to get out of working out.

Three other things on my mind lately:
1. roller skating tennis shoes - I really like them. Last week, I worked at Wal-Mart, doing the sample girl thing, and EVERY KID HAD THEM. The old fart/lawyer in me initially thought "those can't be good for your back and would certainly cause injury - hello, recall/lawsuit" but by the end of the day, I found myself wandering down the toy aisle and wondering if a boys size 10 would fit me.
Hello - how are you? Would you like to buy some body wash?

2. massage parlors next to tobacco stores and truck stops- why are they there? If these "parlors" are legitimate, which we must assume that they are, otherwise, one would think they would be CLOSED, why are they next to tobacco quick stops and trucker palaces? Call me stereotypical, but most men that I know who dip and drive trucks (all one of them) don't seem to be the "oh, i can't do lunch. I have to go to the spa and get a massage this afternoon. and then i need to pick up some skoal." It boggles the mind.

3. the annoying olive garden commercial. Every time this commercial comes on, my blood pressure rises and I have to quickly change the channel. it is by far the most annoying commercial known to man. "he's very handsome...and his shoes are probably untied." Oh, please - and then, when the hostess puts her hand on her heart/chest like that is the most sweetest thing she has ever heard? Well, folks - I just can't stand it. The urge to vomit doesn't even begin to explain how repulsing and annoying it is. Why is it still on TV? Surely other people feel the same way I do.

Okay, that's all for now.

Artsy Fartsy is feeling more like Artsy FARTY today.

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