...And then I met Justin Bieber

There is nothing better than shopping in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. The stores have that fresh new-clothes smell and you get to enjoy being amongst people without having to actually talk to them. And the stores are quiet. You can pretty much shop in peace. After trying on Clinique make-up in Dillard's that made my face break out, I continued to browse around the store when suddenly I ran up against another shopper.

Startled by the person's unexpected presence, I tried to save face. I flashed a bright smile, and gave a little combo head-nod-half-wave, and tossed out a cheery "hi!" (like you would when trying to cover your awkwardness in a surprise encounter)...only to realize that I had just politely (and loudly) greeted a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Justin Bieber.

Needless to say, after looking around to see if anyone had seen my awkward encounter, I made a beeline for the door.

Justin Bieber cut-out: 1, Me (Not as cool as I thought): 0

Gold Pants and Monkey Balloons

I am finding myself a bit monkey obsessed as I'm sure you can tell after the monkey back pack toddles leash and monkey riding a pig posts, so in keeping with my theme, I thought it might be nice to learn how to make a monkey balloon animal. I have done the hard hours of research so that you don't have to. And I am sharing my intellectual findings with you, in the form of a pirate? Puritan? Clown? Listen, she's hard to classify, but the memory of her will stick with you. You're welcome.



Baby Monkey...the next great hit

Sometimes, when you're feeling a bit dejected, you have to find something to shake you out of it. Monkeys always make you feel a bit better. Here you go:

Bringing a little Buffalo to the South

Today, a man in a little "store" across from the Whistle Stop Cafe on McCrackin Street, in Juliette Georgia (where the movie Fried Green Tomatoes was filmed), attempted to sell me bits of movie paraphenalia, and when I would not bite, tried to convince me to buy into his business, which was basically an electronic card that people would hang around their necks, displaying all of the person's medical records. In theory, this sounds like a great idea...if there is a problem, someone can click a little button and access all of your medical history: charts, allergies, immunizations, serious ailments, even x-rays. He wanted me to talk to the higher-ups at the college where I teach to see if they would be interested in supplying all of their incoming freshman with medical cards. ("It's a tax right-off," he said.)

But let's think about this....can you really see an eighteen year old in a club wearing a lanyard with a plastic card around his neck? And what happens when there's a bar fight? I imagine some kid sprawled on the ground in some hole of a club, his personal records on file for anyone to steal.

Not actual lanyard...or college student...but it's a very close rendition....seriously!

Can we say, "identity theft," anyone? I wanted to tell this man that where I come from (being born of the Buffalo wing), people would not want strangers accessing their personal information. We'd rather go down in a bloody, painful spiral toward death, than admit to our medical failings, or let anyone have any access to something they could steal. And I would have told this very southern man...but he kept talking abouy how it was God's will. Apparently, it was preordained that this man and his friends would save the world through electronics.

Needless to say, I was not onboard.  

Is Jesus Gluten Free?

When I first moved to Macon, Georgia, I was taken aback when the first questions people asked me upon introduction were, "What church do you go to?" or "Have you been saved?" Since then I have realized the importance church plays in a small southern city. Imagine the horror when I told people that I don't go to church.

That's right, I'm what you might call a "lapsed Catholic" or perhaps more appropriately, a "fallen Catholic." If I'm being honest with myself, I have to admit that even when I was a practicing Catholic, in my adolescence, church was a place to meet new boys whom I would then seduce at church-sanctioned events.

The Hubs was raised as a Baptist and has a greater appreciation for organized religion. He occasionally suggests going to a new church, just to check it out. Yesterday, the Hubs had a wild urge to go to St. Peter Claver's Catholic Church for mass. So, I looked up the website and we chose a service to attend. This is where the trouble began.

On the way to the 11:15 mass, the Hubs had a good point. The conversation went sort of like this:

Me: You're supposed to go to confession if you haven't been to mass in a while in order to take communion, but I'd totally take it anyway if I could. I'm a bad Catholic.

Hubs: Why can't you? Oh...gluten.

Me: Yeah, it's made of wheat. (Note: I have a gluten allergy)

Hubs: But it's unleavened, are you sure?

Me: Yeah, I looked it up once, it has wheat flour in it.

Hubs: But...it doesn't really, right...cause of the whole Jesus thing?

Me: That's true. Catholics are supposed to believe the host actually turns into Jesus.

Hubs: Isn't Jesus gluten free?

Me: I could totally take communion and see if  my face blows up, proving the whole "Body of Christ" thing wrong. See, this is why I'm a bad Catholic.

And by this time we were at church. We were even a few minutes early. But when we got inside, there was no mass!!

Was Jesus making a point? Perhaps.

Catholic Church: 1, Me (the blasphemer): 0

Lymphangioleiomyomatosis Awareness Day: Why does breast cancer get all of the awareness?

The Hubs and I were in Lowe’s, looking for patio blocks to put under our new fire-pit (the pyro in me rejoices!), and after my attempt to convince him to buy me a giant trough to put the dog in, I stumbled across something that I would obsess about for days to come: Breast Cancer Awareness Mums. The mums were an unnatural pink color, somewhere between fuchsia and Pepto-Bismol. They were in little plastic tubs, wrapped in pink plastic with breast cancer ribbon emblems.   

Lately, I have seen the breast cancer awareness items everywhere. I will admit that I am tempted by the breast cancer ribbon travel mugs, or limited edition breast cancer awareness nail polish bottles, but, breast cancer mums? What’s next? Breast cancer crepe myrtles? Breast cancer flamingos? Breast cancer sunsets?

Why does breast cancer get all of the awareness? We are already aware. What about all of those other terrible diseases out there? Don’t they deserve some attention? Don’t they get a day? A symbolic representation of awareness?

Here are some suggestions:

Beriberi Awareness Day – A disease that results from a lack of Thiamin that could result in tingling, confusion, pain, shortness of breath, leg swelling, etc. This one is easy for branding:

Kuru Awareness Day – A disease that results from eating human brain. According to Wikipedia, the disease results in “body tremors” and is also known as “laughing sickness” because affected people are prone to “pathological bursts of laughter.” Hmmm…

Demodex Folliculorum Awareness Day– in two words: eyebrow lice.

Lymphangioleiomyomatosis Awareness Day – I don’t even care what this disease is. If I can’t pronounce it, it must be horrible:

Breast cancer awareness is important. But let's not be short-sighted (Myopia Awareness Day? Hmmmmm?)

Gem Sweater: How I rationalize wearing bedazzled Christmas Sweaters to work

A little taste of cool air in middle Georgia has opened up the creepy old lady in me. Today, I began dreaming of the Christmas season and wondering how many days I could get away with wearing my Christmas sweater-- a black, obviously acrylic sweater enhanced with a bedazzled Christmas tree, which I bought on sale at Walmart...sort of as a joke...sort of because I love it.  Every year I wear it, and every year my college students look at me as if I've lost my mind. I bring in candy canes and cocoa and forcefeed students with my Christmas cheer. And when they tell me I have no fashion sense, I send them on a quest...to watch "Gem Sweater" by Lelsie and the Lys. This is my fashion guru, who I long to emulate. For those of you who have missed out on the wonder of Leslie and the Lys, here you go:

You're welcome.