Pants on the ground

Sportscasters ponder the moral ramifications of Tiger cheating on his wife. while my favorite, the tabloids explore the steamier side of the issue...happily speculating on the whens, wheres, who (re)s, and which cocktail waitresses. Fans want to understand what made him stray, while sponsors scramble to determine if he can still sell sneakers and Gatorade. Me? I only have one question for the Tiger and I've summed it up in a letter to him.

Dear Mr. Woods,

Were you really THAT anxious to part with $300 million dollars?

Now I’m not telling you how to run your business or your life, Tiger. But I just have to ask why you would sign and then knowingly violate a $300 million dollar prenuptial agreement? I'm sorry, but I just have to wonder.... Were you really THAT tired of seeing so many zeroes on your bank account statements? Or do you hate the world of financial institutions and you simply ran out of mattresses to stuff? Was it hard to keep your pants up when your pockets were so filled with gold? Were you Larry Platt's inspiration for his award-winning song, "Pants on the Ground"?

The only logical explanation is that your money’s a burden to you and you’re desperate to unload it. If this is the case, perhaps you could have considered these fine alternatives?

According to the Senator of Louisiana, $300 million is exactly what it’ll take to remedy the shortfalls in their budget. If you weren’t on the hook for the prenup, you could totally write the Great State a check. I bet they’d all run out and buy Buicks, Nikes, and Gatorade with the money you saved them. Plus, the folks in NOLA would treat you like a king at Mardi Gras, giving you all the beads you could carry. You’d be so beloved, every girl on Bourbon Street would flash you. Since that sounds like the kind of thing you’d be into, everyone wins!

For $300 million bucks, you could have funded HUD’s Recovery Act, which (I believe) is aimed at both giving homes to homeless families and preventing them from facing the kind of crisis that eventually lead to homelessness. Home-wrecker?....more like a home-saver!

A while back the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation gave $100 million dollars to help fix polio. Seriously Tiger, are you going to let some browser-crashing-nerd steal your thunder? Or are you going to fork over so many bills those future generations of blindfolded swimmers will think that “polio” is what comes after “Marco”?

The cliché-loving part of me would just really like to take that last $100 million to buy the world a Coke. However, according to a recent estimate (which was retrieved from WikiPedia so you know it's true), it would cost around $6.5 billion to purchase one twenty-ounce bottle for every single person living on Earth. I GUESS people could share, but that would cause multiple people to place their lips on the same thing, which, funnily enough, is how you got yourself in trouble in the first place,mister. Maybe we should just forget that suggestion.

So, I guess I’d take that $100 million dollars and buy Elin something pretty… like an island. An island far, far away from you.

The devil reads Kindle

Asking me to choose between a traditional book and a Kindle is like asking me which of my nephews I love most.

Bradley is a sweet and loving nephew, whereas Drew (who is also as sweet) is always there to provide entertainment or pose for any sort of photo opportunity (just like his aunt Rachel). Both nephews serve a purpose — much like books and Kindles.

If forced to choose between a book and a Kindle, I'd opt for the comfort and ease of bound pages. I mean, I can't break a book if I drop it on a tile or hardwood floor. I don't have to have a charger to read a book..or lose a charger and not be able to read my story for a week. And if books no longer existed, what would happen to my shelves? Books are highly entertaining and decorative, and not to mention... they make you look smart, sort of like wearing glasses. Let's face it, I need all the help I can get when it comes to looking smart. Also, they're pretty much the only item guaranteed not to explode, at least according to new TSA guidelines. What's not to love?

I hesitated before asking for a Kindle. I wasn't worried that the digital phenomenon would ruin literature as we know it. Rather, my concern centered on using an electronic device while in the bathtub. Fortunately, the splash-proof cover solved this problem and I gave in.

I didn't understand the Kindle's true value until I finished an e-book late one night. In sixty seconds — and without the benefit of pants — I had brand-new reading material at my fingertips. As there's no book jacket, people can't tell if I'm reading Shakespeare or L.A. Candy. And with the Kindle's built-in dictionary, I don't spend a hundred pages sitting on my lazy butt and wondering what the heck "perfidy" means anymore.

For me, the biggest benefit of my Kindle is immediacy. I'm extremely impulsive. I must have whatever I want whenever I want it (You might wonder, how is that different than any other aspect of your life? Good question). Case in point: Last night, after a glass (or bottle) of wine, I craved a classic novel (I know what you're thinking and I agree that this is a stretch). Drink in one hand, Kindle in the other, I snatched up free copies of everything from Little Women to The Art of War (not that I EVER in a million years plan on reading the latter). Had I done the same thing in a bookstore, I'd have ended up in jail, not in bed. Granted, these historic writers don't get paid on free downloads. But, let's face it, they're dead; they don't need money.

I admit I don’t get the same satisfaction as holding a hardcover book in my hands, but I'm a big fan of saving $10-$15 on a new release. Because of the lower prices Amazon has to offer, and the fact that you get to see the book's cover, I'm sold. And despite what people say, I ALWAYS judge a book by its cover.

What does a bag of oreos plus a box of tissues equal? A new post

Side note: This was written back in August but I am just now posting it because, let's face it.. I'm a slacker.

Considering I'm 25 and single I might not be the one you would expect to give relationship advice, but seeing as though I need to take my OWN advice, this post is acting as a self-help guide for myself, and maybe will help you when going through a rough break-up. The following is a step-by-step guide to get over your ex and get on with your life:

1. Breaking News: we make ourselves WAY too accessible. How, do you ask? I shall count the ways... We now have the following ways of scaring off a guy: e-mailing, texting, stalking, drive-bys, FB messaging, calling, coming on too strong, etc. Here's a tip to counteract these atrocities from happening: Fall off the face of the earth. Block his calls, don't drunk dial, don't get on Facebook. Be a mystery to him. Do NOT call him.

2. Delete anything from your history with him. Pictures, gifts, clothing, etc. How will you possibly move on when you have a constant reminder of him smacking you in your face everytime you get up out of bed to get more tissues?

3. Make an "over it" CD. What is an "over it" CD you ask? I will tell you. It is a CD that empowers you and maybe even makes you shed a tear over the loser who hurt you. I'm sure you're asking yourself what you should put on this CD, and lucky for you, I've made a few in the past and recommend the following:

• "Picture to Burn" by Taylor Swift
• "Walk On" by U2... Whitney played this for me when I got dumped once in college
  
• "Cold as You" by Taylor Swift
• "Since You've Been Gone" by Kelly Clarkson
• "Irreplaceable" by Beyonce
• "If I were a Boy" by Beyonce
• "Go your Own Way" by Fleetwood Mac
• "Heartless" by Kanye West
• "You're Not Sorry" by Taylor Swift.. side note: she is so wise beyond her years.. just like me.
  
• "Better as a Memory" by Kenny Chesney
  
• "Take a Bow" by Rihanna
• "Love Takes Time" by Mariah Carey
• "99 Problems" by Jay-Z
• "What Goes Around.." by Justin Timberlake
• "Walk Away" and "Gone" by Kelly Clarkson

DISCLAIMER: Neither myself or this website will be held responsible for whatever emotions incur after listening to the songs listed above. Please have a bottle of anxiety medication OR 911 on hand after listening to some of these songs.

4. Give yourself time to heal.. a few days.. but then get out and get on with your life. Stay busy and keep your mind off of jerkface.

5. If necessary, go talk to a therapist. Your friends and family can only take so much sulking. Plus, getting to talk about yourself for an hour is always fun.

6. Be your own best friend. Seriously, who is cooler than yourself? Noone. At least, I think so. And who doesn't want to date a confident and hot girl?

7. Realize that you and your ex are NOT getting back together. Stalking, drive-bys, unnecessary texting will only push him further away.

Poverty is a BITCH.

Ok, so maybe "poverty" is a BIT of an overstatement, but read below and you'll understand why I feel the need to be dramatic. When i first started this blog i thought to myself "hmm... what in the world will I write about?". Typically, I get on a kick for about a week and then I am over it. For example... working out, smoking (sorry, mom), being an alcoholic (again...sorry, mom), Cracker Barrel, Steak n'Shake chocolate milkshakes w/hot fudge (sorry, waistline), painting, stalking, tanning, etc. etc. etc.

I've had this blog thing going for ABOUT two weeks so we'll see how long it lasts. I've had fun writing about my shopping trips and about ex-boyfriends, it has been a bit therapeutic. However, there probably won't be too many more shopping stories and you can thank (or send hate mail to)Whitney for that. She gave me an excel spreadsheet that keeps all of your finances in order, and once I entered all of my information into it, I came to the very SAD realization that no, i am not a millionaire, in fact, nowhere close, and I need to quit spending half my paycheck at Anthropologie and doing something a little more responsible, for instance, say, saving for the future..i know... boring. I mean, that's what a husband is for, right?

Anywho, Whitney's husband is out of town so she is experiencing what being a single mom is like AKA hell. She has the best husband ever so when he goes out of town, she gets slapped in the face with a harsh reality. Luckily, I am there to help her through it. And by "help", i mean sit on her recliner and watch her take care of her child. Last night, we were watching an episode of "Hannah Montana" (umm... does it sound less pathetic if I say Jack likes it?) and I had the great idea to go buy hair color in a box because both of our roots were looking a bit... umm.. how shall I put this.. county? So, off we go to Walgreens (not Target, only because Whitney was wearing sweatpants and Jack was in his pajamas) and bought boxed color. I have a hair appt on Friday so what's the worst that could happen, i wear a hat for two days? I can deal with that. We bought a color and brand my very stylish cousin had recommended and it actually turned out looking great. Or at least, at the time, we thought it looked great. Mine is still up in the air (not literally, but figuratively speaking) and Whitney's looks like she just got her roots done (however, she has received NO compliments at work.. i blame this on the fact that she works with a bunch of guys and the only thing they would notice is if she came to work in her birthday suit) so I was a little jealous. However, since I am (sadly) exiting the "Millionaire Club" and entering the oh-so-boring "frugal" club, I think I can handle boxed hair color. PS, if you need a babysitter, proofreader, dog sitter, house sitter or just want to support a very worthy cause (my favorite hobby, shopping), I am available for a very reasonable cost.

Confessions of Two Shopaholics...

Question: What does one husband being out of town plus one boyfriend being on call all weekend equal? Trouble. Well, this is true if that husband is Whitney's and that boyfriend is my own. Where does the destruction begin?

It all started on Friday afternoon at the nail salon (Where Whitney MAY or MAY NOT have offended a rather large black lady sitting next to us by clapping her hands and yelling "Hercules, Hercules!"). We have an endearing factor that draws people to us, thus causing the owner, Michael (or, in Vietnamese, Chien) to be our new BFF OH and did I mention we're still working on the friend discount? After learning several Vietnamese phrases from Michael, prank calling an old man whose wife was ready to be picked up, and finding that the word "orientals" is offensive to Vietnamese (and thus tipping profusely), we decided we needed to exercise. At Bridge Street, of course. P.S. Whitney, i won't tell that we valeted the car to reduce walking if you won't, either.

To begin our exercise, we went to the Apple Store, and not to toot my own horn, but, didn't spend any money there. We did, however, meet LeBron James...or maybe his name was Lebront Jones, whatever.

Next, we did crack. Okay, not really, but we visited our version of crack....Anthropologie. You know, i've never really related to the people on "Intervention" until I began my fascination with all things Anthro. Our experience there was nothing short of ecstacy. We bought dresses, skirts, tops, jewelry, and pants so cute that i almost had an asthma attack (Side note: I dont have asthma). I'm getting all tingly just thinking of the beautiful pieces we absolutely needed.

Next, Whitney went to Kate Spade and now i understand the meaning of fate. Would you believe the purse she has envied for weeks was ON SALE? I mean, she'd be losing money if she didn't invest in it. Words cannot describe THE most glorious Tiffany blue, pebbled leather handbag that I'd secretly take Jack hostage for..oh wait, did I just say that?


The next day I woke up with a TINY bit of a shopping hangover AKA buyer's remorse. I decided I didn't have to have the ONE top that I bought on sale (i mean really, if it stays in the store long enough to be on sale than obviously it screams "last season"). So, naturally, we head back to Huntsville and we both have the brilliant idea of stopping at Parkway Place first (great minds really DO think alike), and as luck would have it, I ran into my favorite shoe salesman and gay boyfriend, Ronald. Of course, he showed me a pair of light gray suede BCBG heels. I didn't care how much they cost (i mean, do i REALLY need utilities for a month?), they WOULD be mine.
But first, I needed the perfect outfit to go with the perfect shoes, so upstairs we go. To make a long story short, one and a half hours and an ungodly amount of money spent later, we strut out the store feeling the happiness of what some might describe on their wedding day.

After this, we went back to Bridge Street and to show the self control that I have, i returned the shirt (Whit, I'll hurt you if you mention the two dresses and the top I bought, too). So, yay me..I'm back in control. Crazy thing is, I couldn't find a thing to wear Monday morning. Hong Chieng Vonda Mon Uma (Vietnamese Expletives).

And that, my friends, is what denial looks like.