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Thursday, November 29, 2012

How to Fantasize

How to Fantasize
My list of my top ten fantasy guys
Subtitle: To have fantasy does not mean that your life is bad. Mine is AWESOME. I just don’t brag about it because when I see you doing it I know you’re full of bullshit and trying too hard. I’ll stop being a bitch now. Daniel will help. He always does. 

10. Jonas Quinn - Before you start flipping out this is a countdown, not a count up, but I still wanted to start with a Stargate guy.  Look, you can get all crazy purist but I’ve heard Mr. Canadian Hot Pants’ answer to this. They were talking about canceling the show. Man had KIDS to FEED. Got another job. Didn’t cancel show. Hot Pants was occupied but could do part time for a season. THAT IS IT. I have heard it from his OWN mouth. So stuff it - Corin Nemec is HAWT and Jonas Quinn was ADORKABLE and the best part was that the writers decided to ignore that fact rather than throw women at him. Made him that much more innocent. That much cuter. Jonas, baby, I would RUIN YOU. 

9. Indiana Jones - Even now. For real, have you people LOOKED at Harrison Ford? Oh my Athena, there is no way a man in his 70’s should be allowed to look that fantastic. Not only that but Indiana Jones came out when I was a kid and being the super nerd that I was my mom promptly rented the VHS the moment it came out. It even started my little thing with archaeologists (which I wanted to be for a brief moment before I realized that I would starve and probably lose Hot Roommate, neither of which I am willing to do). 

8. Han Solo - Even now. See step nine. Ok, for all of my love of destroying innocents like Jonas, I have a thing for bad guys, even bad guys that turn good. He had me at the moment he shot Greedo (which for the record, he shot first. If you can’t handle that, you can’t love Han Solo). He was bitchy, snotty and not afraid to tell you off. My little friends (yes I wasn’t even born when the first film came out I know, but I WAS 3 for Jedi and 5 by the time mom had pirated all three for me off of HBO) were all in love with Luke, he was so good and cute but nope, not me.  Bring on the pirate. He pretty much smuggled pot for crying out loud!?!? My kinda guy. 

7. Jareth the Goblin King - David Frakkin’ Bowie. In tights. With a baby. Dancing. And singing. There is nothing else that needs to be said. If you need more, well, stop reading and go back to crushing on the little Twilight Boys. 

6. Aragorn OR Legolas - Now, I have lumped these two together not only because they are from the greatness that is the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, but also because as you watch said trilogy you have to go back and forth. Why? Flow chart time!!

   Hot dark broody dude saves adorable hobbits (Aragorn love) ------ > Crazy hot archery while Mr. Broody gets all extra broody over elf girlfriend which now makes him have too much baggage (Legolas love) -------> Then hot broody guy is secret special broody and pledges to defend cute hobbits and forsake greatness (Aragorn love) --------> ENTIRE BATTLE AT ROHAN (Legolas love) -------> Hot broody goes on a quest that may kill him standing up for all of humanity like a BEAST (Aragorn love) --------> CLIMBING ON ELEPHANTS WHILE FIRING YOUR BOW, JOKING AND COUNTING YOUR KILLS (Legolas love) -------> “You my friends bow to NO ONE” 

Aragorn for the win. 

Dammit, I’m now watching Lord of the Ring. Be back in 15 hours...

*Elevator music plays. Don’t tell Shanks. I told him he is my only one and I adore him. But I’m a fan girl slut. He doesn’t need to know that. He can think I’m loyal.*

5. Madmartigan - Ok, so you have probably noticed I have a slight weakness for jerks and Val Kilmer as Madmartigan in Willow is no exception. Dude, he even looked hot wearing a dress!!! But really, is a rebel, could wield a sword, took care of a cute baby, ran around the movie losing clothes left and right, could recite love poetry and defended the little people. Sigh. Sorcha, you are a LUCKY chic. 

4. Daryl Dixon - Now for as Southern as I am, I’m almost never attracted to “Rednecks.” There is nay a country singer I have ever found attractive and camo is a HUGE turn off. However, when you kill zombies with a cross bow, your sleeves ripped off of your shirt and ride a bike, uh, excuse me while I wipe the drool. Ok. Better. Norman Reedus if you are ANYTHING like your character, please know that in the case of an actual zombie apocalypse I will be taking everyone in at the family farm in Virginia. And I have a katana and martial arts training. I welcome you to my zombie fighting team. Please come on bike. 

3. Eric Northman - This little (well not so little) bad guy hottie gets bonus points for being   immortal and having the ability to make me immortal and good powers and being crazy good in bed. He’s a vampire, with clout, that will kill the other vampires or anyone for fucking with you. And since he is a vampire he can just hypnotize people to do what you want or need them to do AND he enjoys being covered in blood so no begging for hot manip pictures. Forget me ruining him, he can ruin me. 

2. Anakin Skywalker - He is THE dark lord of the Sith. He killed EVERYBODY. He gave the Jedi Council the middle finger just to get his groove thing on. He killed nearly everyone in his path to the Dark Side on a total frakkin’ rampage.  Sorry, but that’s just hot. HAWT. He probably could have had me with some lightsaber swinging but when he double saber beheaded Dooku this fan girl was in lust. Done. That was until.....

1. Daniel Jackson. He has brown hair and blue eyes. He speaks at LEAST 28 languages. He is a GENIUS. His name is DOCTOR Daniel Jackson and he is a DOCTOR of archaeology. He is sensitive. He cares about others. He is older. He is buff. He is not afraid to tell you off. He is quick on his feet. His voice makes me melt. He makes me melt. I swear if a genie gave me three wishes I would ONLY need one and I have thought this through: 

“I would like a quantum mirror that takes me to a post SGU Stargate reality in which I am Dr. Adrienne Rowan EXACTLY like in my fan fic and can live and spend time there and return to my own reality to be with Hot Roommate and the kiddos whenever I like and have no time have passed and when I want to be Addy again be able to pop back over to Stargate world and have it be as I left it.” 

I would legit NEVER sleep again. EVER. 

Someone PLEASE find me a genie. 

Monday, November 26, 2012

How to Survive Black Friday

How to Survive Black Friday

Subtitle: Me and mine have a system. Yes, a system. We get the TVs. We get the PCs. We get the toys. And we live to talk about it.


SubSubSubTitle: That’s too many towels...

Step 1: Case the joint.  The A #1 mistake made by Black Friday shoppers is just a’showin’ up and taking the map the little dude who is ushering you through to cart corral hands you. Nope, that ain’t gonna work. You NEED to know where in the hell you’re going in advance AND where the large empty space in the store is. Cuz dem bitches SNEAKY. They do shit like hide the towels near the TV’s. If you know the store you can determine that running through intimate apparel is the fastest back route to said elusive towels. 

Step 2:  Sort your ads at kitchen counter while husband tries to talk to you before coffee like he doesn't know better AND forces the kids to watch the parade who are consequently whining about not wanting to watch the parade and coming to try to steal your ads and bitching about what they want for Christmas which is NOT what they told you last week when you started looking up leaked info and store maps online and now they’re screaming because there IS a good song on the parade and your husband just sprayed counter cleaner on the Macy’s ad with the COUPON and AHHHH!!!!

Breathe in. Breathe out. Think about Daniel Jackson. Just think about Daniel Jackson. 

Step 3: Don’t forget your camera, because shit’s gonna pop off at the Walmart and not over what you think. Honestly, I did this for YEARS and NEVER EVER saw anything go down like what went down on TV and the ONE year I did not bring a camera and DID split up from one of my dearest friends and shopping buddy. That was the ONE year that some women started fighting over Boost Mobile phones. No lie. (And they did that this year too apparently! Do these phones sort laundry or something? House crack?) But I DID get to listen to it over the phone. CLASSIC.  This time, my iPhone is CHARGED and ready to go! 

Step 3A: Make sure there is room in the car. Really, because nothing sucks worse than having to stop shopping because you’re out of room in the car. You need as much room as possible for the towels. 

Step 4: Get in Line. This really doesn’t have to be as bad as it sounds. Now I have heard horror stories but my area is pretty good.  And we’re Southern, which means I’m striking up a conversation with the random woman behind me regaling her of tales of years past which include but are not limited to:

  • Crawling between people’s legs when I was 16 to get my sister a Tickle Me Elmo
  • Using walkie talkies pre-cell phones to divide and conquer
  • Throwing Fisher Price toys in football like passes to my mother so she could dash to the line
  • Gone to five stores to find the BatCave that came with the BONUS villains

Step 5: Bathroom Passes. I’m not even kidding here and as a teacher I find this to be HILARIOUS. Here is how it goes down: If you are purchasing something at a major retailer, like Walmart or Best Buy, you are going to have to complete step 4 HOURS in advance. If you want the 50” TV for $250 that goes on sale at 10, you will need to line up at 6, but never fear! Since you’re having to drink INSANE amounts of coffee chances are you’re going to have to pee (See Mr. Shanks we women have to pee EVERYWHERE so I LOVE you but I did stop on my 14 hour trek to pee! No worries! :) ). So what do they do? THEY GIVE YOU A BATHROOM PASS!!! They are pieces of paper with your name, the time you left the time and the time you have to be back lest your forfeit your place in line AND a store employee has to SIGN IT. JUST.LIKE.HIGH.SCHOOL. Honestly, I’m sad I didn’t buy a TV just to experience this. 

Step 6: Distraction. If you want a hard to get item this is a MUST. Because what’s going to happen is when you get to the bikes, which is the ONLY thing your kids seem to want this year, there is going to be a woman that is going to be letting everyone know who is getting what bike and how this is going to go down and blah blah blah lady are you still talking but then as she is asking you for the ten thousandth time what time it is she will notice that the crock pots that she also wanted are being opened early so she starts screaming and the people who were listening to her like she ACTUALLY had a say over who gets a bike are confused, so you just shove your way through, rip open the plastic and take your bike. 

I hope you got your crock pot. 

I’m at the register.

With the bike. 

Step 7: Why do you need that many towels?? No for real, the only thing my friend here wants is towels they are gone in seven minutes, seven minutes, like we’re talking HUNDREDS of towels are GONE. So on the way to the register you notice that they’re ALL in ONE cart. I’m not kidding! Is there something I don’t know? People are hoarding Twinkies, there’s a TV show about prepping for the end of the world and now towels. That’s it, it’s the Towelpocalpyse. We are in our last days. 

Step 8: Watch what you wear because without fail since I’m young looking (yay, even at 32 I get carded, for real not just carded because it’s a rule) some old person is going to think you work there and try to ask you questions. It will go down like this: 

Old Man: Excuse me, do you have any more crockpots in the back (On a side note, is this a last days sign as well?? Why does everyone want a crockpot??) 
Me: No sir, sorry, I don’t work here.
Old Man: (scanning me up and down) You don’t? 
Me: No sir, I don’t (scanning myself, as I wear black and gray almost EXCLUSIVELY - just like Mr. Canadian Hot Pants if I might add - and we’re in Target and their employees wear RED). 
Old Man: So, you don’t know if there are any more crockpots?
Pseudo-Brother: Walk away Brianne, just walk away. 

Step 8A: Side Target conversation. 

Me: Hey, wait. I need a toaster.
Pseudo-Brother: None of those toasters match any color scheme in your kitchen.
Me: I’m not gonna leave it on the counter, I’m gonna pull it out when I need it. 
Pseudo-Brother: Oh, in that case, get the red one.
Me: No, I want a yellow one.
Pseudo-Brother: That’s not yellow, that’s orange. 
Me: Yellow
PB: Orange
Me: Yellow

....... (continues for next 20 minutes) 

Step 9: Don’t give up. Just because it’s gone in one store doesn’t mean it’ll be gone in another. Like towels! In fact, you might be able to go back down to Walmart, that same Walmart where you tricked bitches into bikes and saw the Towelpocalpyse go down and there will be the towels, so you stop, try them on and decide they suck and the ones you found EVERY WHERE ELSE are better. I hope that man enjoys his scratchy towels that don’t cover his ass. We made sure to test in advance. 

Step 10: Coffee!!! I’m starting to worry about wine. No, seriously, I drink significantly less now as this blog soldiers on and significantly more coffee. Age? Nah, it’s probably the whole running thing. Whatever. Anyway, It’s about 8 a.m. when normal people might be rolling over to launch alarm clocks, but you, no you’re at the IHOP, being rescued. You haven’t slept in well over 24 hours. Your car should be full of shit that might actually not be for anyone else but you. You’ve been listening to hard core rap since 1 a.m. laughing about some of the morons that were smacking each other for a corded printer. But your kids actually slept tonight and you have to be a parent. 

Damn happy I scored a Keuring for $60. 

And the toaster is yellow. 

Thursday, November 22, 2012

How To Do Thanksgiving Dinner

How To Do Thanksgiving Dinner
Subtitle: So in reality my mom does most of this but I kinda get roped in. Then I cook another for some of my closest friends. I am a glutton for punishment. 

Step 1: Plan your menu. Do not use Pinterest. Ok, I’m gonna be frank with you for a moment here, so sit down and grab a whiskey (disregard step 10).  Pinterest is a ploy. It is a ploy by companies and business to make you think that you have Martha Stewart talents when in reality you burn water. I really think it works something like this small flow chart below:

Walmart decides it has an abundance of apples this season --------> Contacts a mommy blogger (those annoying perfect life ones not funny ones like me XD) and says if we give you a bazillion apples and $25 can you make something and take a picture of it post it online and tell everyone it was easy and only cost you $1 to make -------> Mommy blogger says SURE - $25 is SOOO MUCH money to LIE to other mothers and I an going to call my brigade of soap watchers over with me so we can make working moms feel bad ------> 72 non stop painstaking hours later the picture of the one apple that worked is put on Pinterest. 

No offense to stay at home mommies. I used to be one of you. It’s the bitches above I hate. 

Step 2: Shop. This takes some creativity. You don’t want to get everything at Walmart, because clever price match ads or not, they do not have the cheapest price. Here is really how you can save the most money (at least around here) 

  • Turkey + $25 of the canned/box food items - Regular Grocery store as the bird will be like $8 if you buy the other $25 worth of stuff there.

  • Remainder of boxed/pre-packaged goods - Walmart - bring that ad to price match.

- Fresh Stuff - Farm stand down the road. 

Just don’t take your kids with you, for the love of all things holy and sacred. Think I’m joking? I bought candy corn and swedish fish for the pumpkin pie and seven cans of green beans for one casserole. And no mushroom soup. Or pie crust. No, I’m not going on Pinterest to make it from scratch. 

Step 3: Get a glass of wine. And to think, I was all worried about not drinking as much and here I am just a chugging away on which glass is this, two, three of wine that I started back at step one. Sure, you can cook tipsy, remember the Mexican Food entry? And FYI start with white wine while you are cooking, a German or Australian Riesling. Because, what you do, as any mom does, is start picking and nibbling and picking and nibbling and I have learned from experience. Red wine is harder to clean up when you barf. 

Step 4: The bird. We’re reading this blog to keep this simple, right? Buy a turkey bag. Google it. Right now. (Remember I am lazy you can find this yourself). All you do it thaw that gobbler, pull out the head and guts from inside (Don’t forget this, please - I was the laughing stock of about, well, every Thanksgiving for over five years because I forgot this important step when I was hosting my first dinner at 21 and you asshats are just lucky I invited you and still do so shut up). Don’t not just pop it in the oven as you will have Hot Roommate hovering all over it all day so you don’t get to enjoy that for once you both have a damn day off and don’t let Hot Roommate plus your Pseudo-brother deep fry it. Frying the turkey might be tasty but it is unhealthy and results in your sitting on the porch drinking your second bottle of wine hoping that they do not blow themselves up or launch the bird into orbit. On second thought, this wine is good.  Continue boys...

Step 5: The sides. Get the box. Really, because these Pinterest bitches keep going on and on about how good this recipe is that they got on Pinterest, how much fun it is to spend their lives cooking and wiping asses blah blah blah but really, people like Stove Top. They like canned gravy. Companies spend MILLIONS of dollars on making sure people will eat this. Go ahead, fuss, call the healthy eating and organic police on me but  do you really think the AMOUNT of what you are eating today is good, healthy or not? You CAN get fat for eating too much healthy food too genius. Check Wikipedia. Because if you think that making organic pie is a better alternative to regular pie, you are probably the type of person that thinks that Wikipedia is true. Which, though, in this case, it is. 

Step 6: Dessert.  BUY THEM. Seriously, there has got to be a Marching Band fundraiser around here somewhere!!?! I tried, I really did. I got a weight watchers recipe for filling, got low fat crust, made the filling, poured it in the crust, went to the bathroom and Adorable Nerd has poured candy corn into the damn thing. And it’s Wednesday and I’m not going back to Walmart- that is suicide. No, I’m NOT making a pie from scratch. I have already tried to explain to you that I am not Martha Stewart. Nor am I Michael Shanks who WHAT THE FRAK YOU ARE THE HOTTEST MAN ALIVE AND HILARIOUS AND COOK PIES FROM SCRATCH FOR YOUR FAMILY IT IS JUST NOT FAIR!! (finished, I promise - but really? Can this crush get worse?). I can’t bake, ok? I can make one type of Mexican cake and it takes hours and I’m too drunk to start right now. Sara Lee it is....

Step 7: Serving. So, when you got married your in-laws insisted that you get a set of china and crystal and take grandma’s silver set for special occasions just like this. Don’t waste the time or money or energy. You will use this ONCE, the same year you leave the head in the turkey and never again because you realize that this shit cannot go in the dishwasher and you hate dishes and you do not wear a blue dress. I have one word for you friends: Chinet. They even make it now with cute little printed turkeys. 

Step 8: The prayer. Ok, I have included this step because for me year after year it is the most awkward part of the meal. I’m atheist and have been for a while. I have had to hide it from my family for years but I think they know, hell, my uncle is a minister, so it is really awkward to sit there and listen to you go on and on thanking God for hot coffee and low costs manicures. If there was a God, I am pretty damn sure that he is spending more time worried about children getting maimed in third world countries and not worried about your car, but I digress. As a scout leader I have a prayer I would like to suggest, a real prayer, that I do with my scouts. 

Oh, the lord is good to me
And so I thank the lord
For giving me the things I need 
The sun and the rain and the appleseeds
The lord is good to me

 Girl Scouts includes all religions and creeds and I have NEVER heard of this offending or making anyone uncomfortable. EVER. Rant over. 

Step 9: The meal. Ok, so TV has taught us that we’re all supposed to gather around the table with a cute little centerpiece and a candle. Dude, this is 2012. First, no one can afford a house with a room like that anymore thanks to lazy people. Second, we have like 22 people at our Thanksgiving. 22! What do we do? We watch Christmas comedies. And quote them. Every year. Like word for word. And then we have the SAME conversation. Verbatim. 

And I enjoy every minute of it. EVERY MINUTE. 

Step 10: Clean up time. Now, if you took my advice it is Chinet to trash and leftover on other Chinet to send out of the door. But you didn’t. You never do unless I say start drinking at step one. So, get a beer and start washing. Just don’t start insulting your helpers, calling your men dish fairies and whatnot. Clean fast. Brew coffee. You need to sober up. 

Shopping starts in a few short hours....
Bring. It. On. 

Monday, November 19, 2012

How to Start the Christmas Season

How to Start the Christmas Season
Subtitle: I am usually forced to be in this. This year I decided to watch. That might have been a bad choice. 

Step 1: Leave early. Yes, the parade starts at 2, but since I live in a small town it is literally the only thing going on except for buy on get one free Starbucks, which I’d like to add is pretty damn amazing in an of itself. However, you would think that since the parade starts at 2:15 and the road (yes THE ROAD not ROADS) close at 2 you would have plently of time to get there if you leave at 1:20 and live fifteen minutes away.  It’s not. How in the hell did so many people move out here without my noticing. Who are you people? I went to high school with the whole town and I don’t know you? Who are you? Regardless, get out of my way. My mom is calling again. For the tenth time. I need wine already. 

Step 2: Wear clothes. First, I feel like this is a step in every other blog. Should I just write an entry on dressing properly? Like always?  Aren’t you cold? Ok, let’s just for a moment disregard the morons wearing t-shirts and shorts in forty degree weather, let’s just focus on these people. See them? Have you seen them on . Yup, they live here, in my town.  Forget anything else you might have to say about their attire.  Dem bitches GOT to be cold. 

Step 3: Find a place to sit. After you have recovered from the site above, you need to find a place to sit.  Don’t let your mother pick, because she seems to think it is ok to sit by the gutter. It’s a hole, she insists. Yes mom, it is called a gutter and the kids will drop something down there and it will be the end of the world. Mom goes on to ask kids if they want to sit over the hole. It’s a gutter mom. Shut up, she says, I’ve been working all morning. Touche mom, touche. Carry on. 

Step 4: Listen to your mother talk to inanimate objects. Seriously, my mother is hysterical anyway, but to hear her after she has worked and running on little sleep is even better. First, we have the hole incident. Next, my mom starts yelling at people trying to drive into the parade like they can hear her. Then, once my Stargate jacket is recognized (No morons here I am not a veteran - does the GIGANTIC SG-1 patch not give it away!?!?) then my mother proceeds to tell every person on the curb we were sitting on that I drove 14 hours to hug Michael Shanks, that he wished me a Happy Birthday and doesn't do it that much anymore and wished me luck on my half marathon, switching in an instant to why the cops should not tell stupid people to move away from the train track because they deserve to be hit if  they are stupid. God I love her. 

Step 5: Then watch your mom tell off some yuppies. This entire entry has very quickly gone to enjoy a Christmas parade to my mom is the funniest woman alive. Hands down.  Lesson here is that if you show up to a small town parade in your Ralph Lauren sweaters and your $1000 stroller and party right in front of us my mom will TELL YOU OFF. And not with swears or anything, she will say the most downright mean things that you will not understand because you are not as smart as she is. So move. Because if you don’t she might actually switch to the swears. 

Step 6: The parade begins! Did I mention way back in step 1 to pack some blankets. Oops, but in my defense I thought it felt a lot warmer at home. It’s not. The kids are crawling into your lap while you try to film the parade for your grandparents and online friends, complaining of cold, wind, life, hunger, anything they can possibly whine about rather than watch the actual parade. 

Me: Sit up. Watch the parade. 
Kids: We’re bored. 
Me: Why?!? Here comes the band. 
Kids: They don’t have any candy. 

I give up on parenting. 

Step 7: Bring some kind of back-up to your cell phone. So, you are trying to be a good grand daughter and film the parade but of course your phone is a bing bonging and dying and bleeping and blooping and some of those hicks in your small town keep walking in front of you because since you are not shouldering a 10,000 pound VHS camcorder they are completely unaware that you are recording and when the person in their group with teeth notices you are filming they lean all over in your face mystified at how that contraption works. Long story short, just bring a camcorder.

Step 8: Back to mom. My cell phone battery died so I sadly did not get this on tape. About .2 seconds AFTER my phone gave me the hell no came the classic cars and my mom in RARE form. Here’s a snippet of the conversation (well, monologue really)

Mom: That’s not a mustang, I don’t know why Ford even allowed that car to be made. Will, do you see that? THAT is not a car. Now THAT, that’s a chevelle. THAT’s a car. I almost wrecked one of those drag racing on the boulevard. Yeah, woo hoo (yelling at drivers) THAT’s an engine, rev that up!!! No, keep driving, no one cares about that car, it shouldn’t be in the parade, (back to the drivers) that’s right I LOVE IT!! WHOO HOOO. They don’t make cars like that anymore. THAT’s a car, not that stupid mess they drive now, just LOOK at that. Brianne? Did your camera die? You have GOT to be filming this for your sister. 

Did I mention my mom is AWESOME?

Step 9: Get OUT of there. No really, you vaguely remember from the scout meeting where they discussed this (you were only half listening because your troop decided to skip this year) that they are like 115 floats and you’ve been sitting on a cold curb for over an hour, the kids are whining, you have forgotten your wallet and even though you are sitting on the curb in FRONT of the coffee shop you can’t buy a damn thing and THERE is Santa, yes kids, get up, these city folks who came to town to watch do not know that Santa is code for leave.  Run. If we make it to the car we might beat the train.

Step 10: End of the World beer.  Noticed I forgot the countdown, didn’t you? I didn’t it just got it’s own step. We have 32 days. Shock Top is now making End of the World Beer. Party City is carrying End of the World Decor. They know. They all know. 

Drink up now while you still can...

Thursday, November 15, 2012

How to Get Your Kids Ready for School

How to Get Your Kids Ready for School
Subtitle: I’m writing this more for myself, in the hopes that while I do this I will take my own advice.
Fat chance.

36 days now. That’s like a month. Are you watching Doomsday Preppers? Ya should, just a suggestion.

Step 1: Have your significant other pack lunch since they have to get up an hour before you do. This lets you sleep longer, but also pawns off some work on your other because there was a point in your life where you went to parties, did crazy things, drove to strange places in the middle of the night, were the life of whatever event you were at but now you are a Room-mother and a Girl Scout mom while your husband (yes, it is usually the man - sorry) still manages to be the same person he has been for years so yes, he needs to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Gives you more Daniel time too...

Step 2: Use the Snooze button. Ok, maybe step one should have been go to bed before one a.m. or so but dammit, the house was so quiet that it was hard not to stay awake and just sit enjoying silence, beautiful, peaceful silence, like you are right now, the lingering Daniel Jackson dream still playing out in your head, his lips, his touch, his...


This, my friends, is the reason I’m a fan girl. To escape THAT. 

Step 3: Coffee. Drag yourself up but even though your wonderful spousage most likely made those lunches, you will need to pack and repack their backpacks FIFTEEN times because for some unknown reason they have decided that there is a bouncy ball that they earned from the prize box, that you somehow missed because you would have taken that bitch out and HID it, that they needed this morning, right now, no waiting, while you were trying to tell yourself that you really were asleep wrapped in Daniel’s arms. Now, their homework, binder, everything is ALL OVER THE PLACE. Oh yeah, the coffee. That’s important. That’s what’s making you not just go back to bed and let them fend for themselves. 

Step 4: Don’t feed the cat the night before. Ok, fine, this should go before step one, but I’m only about a quarter of the way into my coffee and it really is seven in the morning as a I write this and the ONLY time I’m up at seven in the morning voluntarily is when I’ve been up all night shopping. Because, without fail, this morning, right now, as you are seriously contemplated running away to Vancouver to kidnap your celebrity love obsession, the cleanest creature living in your house by far will have decided to puke. Right in front of the silverware drawer. Seconds before Adorable Nerd needs a spoon for his cereal. And you will step right in it. It’s still warm. I’ve got coffee, anyone got an whiskey?

Step 5: Showers should be taken the night before because adding anything to the morning other than putting on clothes should be nixed. Just lay off of me for the list today, you can print it, cut and paste and reorder on your own damn time it is now seven in the morning for crying out loud! I have nothing else to say other than if coffee doesn’t wake you up having your six year old rolling in the floor laughing because she just pulled your seven year old’s towel off, as he is running upstairs naked holding his junk while she screams that she hid his tightie whities, that sure as hell will. But not in a good way. I need more coffee. Can I just go back to Daniel? 

Step 6: Start the countdown twenty minutes out to AIS. If you never watched “Everybody Loves Raymond” AIS = Ass in Seat. It is the exact moment when my ass will be in the driver’s seat putting the car into reverse so if you do not want to walk you need to get your ass into the passenger seat. This is how it goes down EVERY morning. 

Me: 20 minutes to bus.
Kids: Ok
Me (5 minutes later): 15 minutes to bus. 
Kids: Ok
Clare: Will stop watching TV. 
Me: (turns TV off). Go get your shoes on and brush your teeth. 
Me (5 minutes later): 10 minutes to bus. 
Will: Clare won’t go away. 
Me: What’s she hurting?
Will: Her presence makes me move slower. 
Me: Clare, go to the kitchen.
Me (5 minutes later): 5 minutes to bus. Are those teeth brushed? How about your hair?
Kids: We’re ready. 
Me: (Walking out the door): I am walking out of the door right now.

The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. Where’s my jacket? 

Step 7: Do not let them play with their pets. EVER. Even if by some miracle of Athena they’re ready to go twenty minutes early keep them away from anything furry including vomit cat. Because if not, they will pull the tail off the the gerbil, in a panic, as you give the AIS last call up the stairs, and then come downstairs screaming with a gerbil tail in their hand while the creature it is supposed to be attached to is upstairs, loose and bleeding. Trust me, nothing says parenthood like crawling all over the floor after a scared bloody gerbil that you have to wrap in a dishtowel to take with you to the bus stop only to come home and spend most of the day on the phone trying to figure out if this beloved pet is going to die. No worries, he’s fine - my sister is the president of her 4H club and works at a pet store, she fixed him right up. I just call him Stumpy. 

Step 8: Drive like the wind, maybe with a bloody animal in your hands, down your insane long OMA why do we live out here like this driveway, around the potholes your neighbors won’t have filled in because they cannot grasp the basic concept of road maintenance and are too stupid to just buy gravel and shovel themselves to drive over the plastic speed bumps installed by the stupidest of your stupid neighbors, because really SPEED is an issue in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, while lead stupid neighbor pulls out in front of you, slowing to a crawl and then stares down the bus driver like she does not belong on our private road picking up MY kids. I really hate these people, like madly, can someone PLEASE make them go away. And bring me another coffee. And Daniel. 

Step 9: Get on the bus. Kiss. Hug. I love you too. Go, no, go Mrs. T is waiting. Go, wait, where’s your coat? Did you brush your hair? Your teeth are yellow? No, I didn’t have time to get your coat, I was retrieving your gerbil who is bleeding on my yoga pants. Get on the bus, I will see you at three. Wait, Stumpy, stay in the dish towel!!!

Step 10: We know what this step SHOULD say but it is seven thirty a.m. I want wine. Badly. I want Daniel. More than words can express. I want to go back to bed but I have to log into work and deal with someone else’s kids.  So, let’s do some math. It’s gotta be 5 p.m. somewhere, right? One of your international readers? Have a glass, please, for me, and tweet me a pic. 

My twitter handle is @ladiosabri 

Thanks in advance. 

Monday, November 12, 2012

How to Run a Half Marathon

How to Run a Half Marathon
Subtitle: You don’t have to look very far for him here. He’s is step one. As he should be. 

39 days left but I am not worried. I can use a sword AND outrun the fudgers. Bring on the zombies. 

Step 1: Change your stars. Turn 30, fall to pieces, get addicted to a Sci-Fi TV show you over looked in college and grad school because you were taking a silly amount of credit hours each semester and fall in love with a fictional character not because he is hot, although you realize about season five as they are killing him off that he is like Apollo/Adonis hot - how did I MISS THAT, but because he never gives up. Thank you Daniel, for everything. 

Step 2: Pick a race. Ok, so I bitch about Virginia and threaten to move to Canada, Spain, Miami and Mexico, but in reality I have a passionate love affair with Richmond. I have to say that having done a few races here now, this is the FRIENDLIEST place to run on the planet, maybe even the universe. (Not that I have gated anywhere to know yet... :p) So, yes, I’m probably not going anywhere, so you might as well come here. I’ll meet you at the party stop. 

Step 3: Commit in ink. Sure, the damn race costs $75-$100 and you would THINK that is enough, but really, if you freak out enough you can back out of anything and convince yourself that the costs can be made up by not eating out a few nights or something. You need something a bit more, well, permanent. I suggest a tattoo. Because nothing says commitment like ink that will never go away. Oh, and if you were wondering, I went with a runner on my left outside ankle. Not a mustache and goatee.... (I’m STILL not over that comment LOL). 

Step 4: Start training. No jokes here, I went to and printed a race plan that matched the number of weeks I had to commit to this. That’s IT.  Nothing against those who chose to pay $200+ for the training teams, but like Greek Life in college, I don’t pay for stuff I can get for free. Sorry. 

Step 5: Get encouragement, because let’s face it, you’re like the only person you know doing this and there is no one to run with you. Enlist EVERY human being you can. Recruit your twitter army to send Daniel Jackson pictures to you every time you go on a long run. Recruit your Facebook friends to post wall messages throughout the entire process. Have your spouse run your put crew to bring you water and flashlights when the sun goes down as you are 5/6 of the way through your double digit Saturday runs. Get people to write well wishes on your virtual wall, send you messages that you will carry in your bottle. Get your students and family to sign your technical shirt.  Mail your last race shirt to LONDON so your friend can tell Michael Shanks what you are doing so he can sign the shirt, give you a message and take the time to give a shit which makes you cry. You need each and everyone one of these people. TRUST ME. Because this is NOT EASY.

Step 6: Have the most AWESOME in-laws in the FRAKKIN’ world. In-laws that get you a hotel room at the Jefferson, the POSHEST hotel in Richmond (I LOVE YOU MARY) and then have same said awesome in-laws take you to the Tobacco Company for the Race Day special (which I kid you NOT was the biggest piece of Chicken Parm I have EVER seen in my ENTIRE life). You need this too, you need a good place to sleep close to the start and a full tummy. Rest well. Tomorrow is a big day. 

Step 7: Wake up early. Get dressed, attach your number, listen to Hot Roommate chew out room service because your protein shake is late, hug Adorable Nerd and Fashionista in Training, race downstairs, take coffee from the AWESOME hotel staff who have it ready and waiting for anyone with a race number and walk a mile to the starting line.  Meet up with other runners, chat it up, calm your nerves, tweet like there is no tomorrow.  Oh my Athena we’re moving. Headphones it. Marathon playlist on. Starting Tweet prepped. Imma make you my bitch. 

Step 8: Run like the wind. Holy cow this is soo cool! Like the 10K was cool but this is the SHIT. Notice everything because, since we are in Richmond after all, there be crazy mess. First, I’d like someone to explains the tutus to me because I have run like 8 races in the past year and every time someone is wearing tutu and I am so confused. Note that your former Grad School (Go University of Richmond SPIDERS!) now has a Quidditch team (because of course there was no cool shit like that when I was there). Stop at every water station, you get more thirsty than you would imagine. Slap EVERY child’s hand you pass, EVERY, because it is 8 am and they are up in coats outside to cheer you on. Oh, and DON’T take the gel at mile 8. That is NASTY, like super nasty. Like, I wish I could puke that up nasty but I have to keep running. Instead, wait till you get to VCU frat row. Like the 10K they are giving out beer and people are REALLY taking it! TAKE THE BEER!!! YES, I KNOW it is only step 8, but TAKE THE BEER. 

Step 9: Push through the pain. About mile 11 all of a sudden your left buttock decides that it no longer wants to be part of your body no matter the amount of negotiating that you’re doing with it. Seriously ass?! My KNEES are what the doctors have been worrying about and today YOU decide to give me problems. Tweet for help, help will come and keep pushing. Keep pushing. Keep pushing. JUST KEEP PUSHING.

Step 10: There it is and it’s okay to cry. The music around you is finally louder than the music in your headphones, there is a big banner at the end of the hill and there’s your family and you’re tweeting the finish and everyone is telling you to run like hell and as if your friends are psychic text messages start flying in; the announcer is calling that you’ve made it, you’ve finished, run, run, run and cry. Fall into Hot Roommate’s arms (not mine though) and cry. Because you changed your stars. Thank you Daniel Jackson. Thank you Michael Shanks. Thank you Jack(Hot Roommate). Thank you Mom. Thank you kiddos. Thank you to my friends. Thank you to my students. Thank you everyone. YOU have made this possible. YOU helped me conquer it all. 

Forget the wine. I am going to get UV Chocolate Cake Vodka. 

Bottom’s up! 

Thursday, November 8, 2012

How to Host a Girl Scout Olympics

How to Host a Girl Scout Olympics

Subtitle: My cell phone alerts just texted me that we should bring in the plants this weekend. This chica not be camping. Thanks. 

43 days left. I probably should be reconsidering this camping because post zombies I am afraid that I’m going to be doing a LOT of camping...

Step 1: Find a location. Believe it or not there are lots of scout camps spread all across the area and provided you follow certain guidelines you can use just about any of them. Some have cabins, some are for tents, some have lakes, some have amphitheaters, some have pools, some have showers. There are too many choices!! What me? You're asking me? *Whispers to co-leader who is awesome and has been doing this for years* “Which one is the closest to Starbucks?” “Campground X” *Picks up head to confidently address service unit leader*  “I vote that one!” 

Step 2: Pick a date. Now this is the hardest part actually since all eight years olds have a social and athletic schedule to rival Michael Shanks’ work schedule (only took to step two to get to him today woo hoo) you will have to pull out your calendars for the next two years, lay them out on the tables at the meeting hall, cross reference them with softball schedules, school holidays, church socials, the opening of hunting season, color code it, number it, chant yoga mantras over it to pick a date. In November. What the hell. 

Step 3: It’s cold. I’m not kidding I can't run today without seriously considering shifting my fandom from Stargate/Daniel Jackson love to Pitbull simply as an excuse to run away to Miami and bag me a Cuban rapper. Because it is warm there. And Pitbull can dance. Stop Bri, stop fan girl cheating on Shanks. 

Step 4: Arrange games. Now, you COULD just play a few traditional games, duck duck goose, run a few track and field events like I did, have jump rope contests. You can also sing Girl Scouts songs from the more traditional one like “Taps” and “Make New Friends” to new ones like, and I'm not even kidding here, “Jig-a-low.” I’m gonna give you a moment to digest that. Yep, I had the same reaction, so much so that our service unit leader saw from jaw drop from fifty yards away. Shut up. I do not have a guttermind. At least not at scouts. 

Step 5: No, like I'm deadly serious, it is COLD. Go ahead, let the kiddos take a break because the sun is shining and I'm going to lay in it. Aww sunshine, totally making up for the fact that it is November and I have to be outside all day instead of warm and toasty at home writing fan fic or hanging out with people or antiquing and shopping with Fashionista - In - Training but the vitamin D is starting to make up for it...wait, where did the sun go?? Uf! What?! And now I am covered in girl scouts. Deep breaths Bri, deep breaths....

Step 6: Get to know your leaders. Seriously, I was WRONG about these people. Past experience has taught me that most of the moms I encounter are straight as an arrow, church going, baking, View watching housewives so I assumed scouts was the same.  Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Because the conversation I walked into Saturday was the difference tongue rings can make when the man has them in a relationship versus the woman. FOR REAL! These bitches be MY kind of people! 

Step 7: I'm not kidding here. We are at about T-minus to flip out. I'm wearing my Brownie sweatshirt. And my Stargate coat (sans Daniel unfortunately - oh could he EVER warm me up). And my co-leader's coat. And she is making me soup. And hot coffee. Which I am drinking black. No one cream. No two sugars. (Yeah, yeah I say “I have no idea like Daniel, I drink coffee like Daniel and yes this entry is full of Daniel because I am FREEZING AND HE MAKES ME FEEL BETTER). I need to go home, because Daniel can't stay...

Step 8: SHIT!! My phone!!! Because nothing says field day like jumping up and down to keep yourself warm for your iPhone to coming flying out of your pants, dammit I KNEW I should have bought the next smaller size when I lost those last ten pounds, coast through the air in slow motion to land crashing on the concrete floor in the picnic area. OOOOH FUUUUUDGE (gotta get in X-mas references now, world ending before it an all). 

Step 9: Remember that warning I gave you guys about camping. It’s about to happen, right now. My phone is cracked. No, shattered, my phone is shattered. I can’t feel my toes. My nose is a different color. I'm starting to see the children as small trolls that need to be exterminated....wait....march?? To the flag!?!?! I’m moving. 

Step 10: Yeah, no, I’m NOT camping, do you SEE me right now. Let’s go get dinner. I’m thinking Mexican. They have good beer. Because my phone is useless, I have lost feeling in my left leg and right now I cannot stop laughing about the Gigalo song. Oh, and there’s a saw in my scout bag. Legit. Bring on the booze. 

Ok, ok, so it was a lot of fun and I got a patch. Yes, I am grown and got a patch. It’s the little things in life... 

Monday, November 5, 2012

How to Win an Election

How to Win an Election
Subtitle: Obama/Romney you fellas listening?? There’s only a day left. 

46 days left. Did you guys SEE The Walking Dead last night? That's some perspective...

Step 1: Get your party’s nomination. There are a few ways to do this but it boils down to being a rich dude with a big mouth. Personally, I would just take to YouTube and Twitter and see how it goes. Hell, this blog isn’t even six months old and has thousands  of hits and I don’t even promote it other than Twitter and FaceBook, so OBVIOUSLY that is working. Oh, and guess what?  They’re free!!! So you can donate that money you are wasting wooing assholes on real issues, like curing cancer or fixing the economy. You know, shit that matters...

Step 2: Know the Constitution. BACK AND FRONT. Since I’m directing this at the presidential candidates, although the same rules apply in the most basic sense to local officials, Article Two is the section you need to know.  It’s quite simple, each and every time your opponent accuses you of something asshatted (like taking away guns or birth control pills) you can read out loud the powers given to a president and then refer voters to the congressional elections, because those bitches are slinking in all quiet and doing the real damage. 

Step 3: Let’s also stop talking about your humble beginnings. This is not 1950 and you did not start you life working in a sweatshop 14 hours at day at age ten. You didn’t and in this age of the internet we can all look it up and see that you didn’t. And, to top, since I’m speaking of American elections, life here isn’t easy, so there’s nothing that you can say that’s going to make me feel sorry for you because chances are I lived it, my neighbor lived it and because of CONGRESS my kids are gonna live it even harder. This does not make you relate to me, because rich or poor a good smart person is a good smart person regardless of income. 

Step 4:  Take five minutes to meet with a high school debate coach before your next debate because what YOU guys are doing on TV is not a debate, it’s a Jerry Springer episode with people using big words that they really do not know how to use. Once, just once, I want one of you guys to look into the camera and in true Lincoln/Douglass style rip your opponent apart for not answered the question they were just asked. Like THIS: .  Hell, I can coach you. I used to do that too. 

Step 5: Stop the ads on TV. There is nothing more annoying than watching Rick Grimes get his zombie whacking on to immediately change to a bunch of fake housewives discussing the state of the economy like popping out kids suddenly makes them experts on economics. People with PhD’s in economics can’t even figure this mess out, what in the hell makes you think I’m gonna to believe June Clever?? And you just broke up my zombie groove, so now I am pissed at you. TV Ad fail.

Step 6: And speaking of TV, stop going on late night talk shows. No one thinks you’re cool and to be honest the people in this country don’t want cool because if we did we would vote for Conan O’Brien not YOU because you are on his show. We want someone competent, not leaning crazy radical one way or another, who can stand in front of the UN and make those people forget that your citizens find Honey Boo Boo to be entertainment. Period. Just Stop Trying. 

Step 7: Stop sending out mailers. Stop. Stop. This is insane.  Instead go on TV, live TV, like host a flash mob or something. Stand on a podium and say “Hi, my name is so-and-so. You know my opponent? He keeps sending you annoying shit in the mail that’s wasteful, kills tress etc. It cost him/her $_____. I’m not going to send mailers. Instead, I’m going to feed the homeless.” Because guess what, if you did that, I’d vote for you. HANDS DOWN.

Step 8: Stop robo-calling me, all freaking day long, using up my cell phone minutes, interrupting my dinners. STOP. Because every time one of your people calls me and asks me who I’m voting for, I’m giving you the exact opposite of what you want to hear just to fuck with your numbers. Think I’m the only one? Nope, most nerds are. Remember, when we get drunk we change WIkipedia...

Step 9: Go and actually meet the people. Yes, I understand the need for security and having visits planned, but anyone with a half of a brain knows that those rallies are so staged it’s just sad. I want you to get in a car, drive your damn self to my neighborhood, walk up to my door and shake my hand like I matter, because I do. Without me sir, you wouldn’t have a job because the rich people need average folks like me to buy their shit and make them rich. They seem to have forgotten that. You need not to. 

Step 10: Yeah, I know, the election is tomorrow and as you have scanned this list you are thinking, shit, I did all of that. All of that. Oh well,  too late now. So just sit back, grab a bottle of Spanish wine and wait for the results because I’m pretty much thinking that me and mine are moving to Canada. Because they have free health care. Nice people. Do NOT watch Honey Boo Boo. And they have Michael Shanks, and to be honest, that should be reason enough.