Friday, February 27, 2009

do i look poor or something?

I consider myself a relatively attractive person. And I believe I exude a certain level of confidence in myself.

In other words, people don't generally offer to put pennies in my coffee mug to help me out financially.

After my experience Thursday, I'm wondering if I should start carrying that coffee mug around.

My bestie Erin came into town yesterday with her daughter. I haven't seen them since the puking incident. Needless to say, I was pumped. Any time I get to see my best friend and gossip about people we don't talk to anymore, I get excited.

Erin was scheduled to drop by around 5.00. At 4:05, I got a phone call from a client asking me to deliver some samples to her office.

Okie dokie.

So there I was, talking to Hubs while I drove home from delivering the sample. I was on a section of the highway that really should be a 65 mph speed limit.

I saw the cop car 0.3 seconds after I realized I was definitely going a teensy bit over the speed limit.

Copper pulled me over on the side of the highway and approached my vehicle. Bad news.


Me: (quickly getting off the phone with Hubs and digging for my license in my purse) Hi there!

Cop: (straight faced and looking around the interior of my van) You were going a little fast around the corner here. It's 55 and I clocked you at 67. Can I see your driver's license?

Me: (chuckling lightly) Here ya go! Tee hee!

Cop: Be right back.

Me: Right! Okay!


So I sit there and wait. And I think to myself. "You haven't had a ticket in three years. You're in a mini-van). You look pretty decent. 12 over the speed limit isn't THAT bad. Maybe it'll just be a warning.

The Cop returned.


Cop: All right, Ms. Antisdel. (he totally mispronounced my last name, too.) Here's what I'm going to do to help you out.

Me: (inner monologue) YES! He's going to let me off! I FINALLY caught a break. THANK YOU JESUS!!! I wonder if it would be inappropriate to kiss this cop on the cheek. Maybe just a quick peck to thank him for-

Cop: I'm only going to say you were going 10 over the limit.

Me: (What? This is helping me?)

Cop: It's the smallest fine that way. (looking me over, eyebrow raised) You don't look like someone who needs a lot of hassles. Slow down from now on, we'll see you later.

Me: Ugh..but..I...


WHAT? I don't look like someone who needs hassles? What the eff does that mean?

It isn't like I cried all over myself or tried to make up a dumb excuse. I didn't have Cheerios hanging in my hair or a screaming baby in the back seat.

(Although I did have a TON of carpet samples in the back. Like, maybe he thought I was a highly fashionable homeless person and the carpet was my bed??)

Realistically, he probably saw that I wasn't a trouble maker or someone out being crazy.

(I had a Celine Dion CD in my front seat for chrissake. How dangerous could I be?)

I imagine he was just taking pity on me. But still...I DON'T LOOK LIKE SOMEONE WHO NEEDS HASSLES????

Getting pulled over is quite a hassle, wouldn't you say?

Maybe he shouldn't have given me a ticket at all. That would have been the most hassleless.


Really though, it's probably inevitable that I get a ticket every once in awhile. 90% of my job involves me driving all over creation. I'll admit that when I drive that much, I occasionally zone out and don't pay much attention to speed limits.

So sue me.

Or give me a speeding ticket.

Just don't hassle me.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

lollipop, lollipop, ooh la la, lollipop week from today I will turn 28.

When I was about 8, I remember thinking I would NEVER be that old. Like - ever. And yet, here I am.

I'm kind of freaking out

(If this is any indication of how my birthdays are going to go in the future, make sure to stay tuned for my complete meltdown in two years. Thirty is no joke.)

Lately I've been thinking about the past, and how different the world looks now through my jaded eyes as an adult versus my completely pure perceptions as a child.

I mean, everything is so simple when you're a kid. You wake up, go to school, come home, eat dinner, watch The Cosby Show, and go to bed.

(And sometimes take a bath. If you have to.)

Simple. Easy.

It's like that with every part of your life as a child.

When you're a kid, a zoo is a zoo. A park filled with adorable animals that are so happy you came to visit and smile at you through the bars that are keeping them safe.

As an adult, a zoo is a dirty place where animals are kept in captivity and sometimes not treated so nicely. They stare at you through iron bars that are essentially keeping them as prisoners.

For a kid, the supermarket is a place of bright colors where you pick out your favorite cereal, try a new ice cream and beg your mom for a Reese's Peanut Butter cup in the check-out line.

For a grown-up, the super market means money out the window for food you forget to eat and eventually throw away.

(It's also a painfully sharp reminder that you never learned to cook as well as your mother.)

So many events and places that caused excitement and utter joy for me as a kid leave me with nothing but stress and anxiousness as an adult.

When did these places and moments become so...depressing?

As another example: carnivals. Every year my elementary school had an outdoor carnival for the kids. I looked forward to it, I anticipated it, I loved it. One element of the carnival I remember distinctly was the lollipop tree.

Ya know, the giant piece of wood that resembled a tree with holes in it, and the lollipops represented the branches. The game went like this: if you pulled out a lollipop with a red mark on the bottom of the stick, you won a prize.

Was the lollipop tree really that exciting?

Um, no.

But when you won...OH MY GOD. It was amazing. Winning at the lollipop tree gave you bragging rights. It meant you could go up to my older sister and scream, "I won at the lollipop tree and yoouuuu didn't!"

The winning lollipop tree then probably gave me more joy than a $1,000 commission from my job would now.

If I were to win that game today, my first thoughts would be, "How many calories are in this lollipop? Can this lollipop help me pay my mortgage?"

I feel like the older I get (and I know I'm really not old by any means) the less I appreciate the little things. The things that don't amount to much on their own, but put together mean everything.

Little things like having no junk mail in the mail box this afternoon. That's a lollipop win.

Finding out my favorite mozzarella cheese is on sale. That's a lollipop win.

Knowing I'm approaching my 28th birthday happy, healthy and loved. That's a big lollipop win.

As I turn the corner toward the big, looming 3-0 that's waiting for me in less than 750 days, I am going to try and look at things differently. I will focus on being happy with my lollipop wins. I will be happy in knowing that every day there are thousands of them that I'm just not paying attention to.

And I will celebrate every single one.

Friday, February 20, 2009

re-bitten by the bug

It's been over a year and half since I said my "I do's" to Hubs. Hard to believe it's been that long, and yet I can tell time has passed because my days of spending three hours on The Knot have dwindled significantly.

When I was engaged, I spent (way too much) of my weeknights, weekends and lunch breaks drooling over wedding web-sites. Though I invested some of that time searching for visual ideas like flower arrangements and dresses, the majority of my interest was in the advice section.

Being a writer myself, I was extremely interested in advice from other brides. I engulfed myself in learning about who should pay for what, when it's okay to ask for a discount and even when to put my foot down and say how I really felt about something important.

(That happened more times than necessary. Just ask Hubs.)

After we got married, Hubs and I settled into "Married Life" and visiting those wedding web-sites just didn't top my priority list any longer.

But then....

The other day I read an article about brides today and how their expectations are so vastly different from those of the past.

For example - the average cost for a wedding in 2009 is $20,0000.

Holy shiz.

I can almost buy a Ford Flex for that.

I'm pretty sure my 'rents got hitched for like, $13.95. Including the honeymoon. Okay, not really, but my point is, some brides seriously have their priorities and expectations out of wack.

And I have something to say about it. So...sometime in the next month I'm going to be starting a new project. The project will be a blog.

It will not be about Hubs.

(Although he will probably be mentioned more than he wants.)

It will be about weddings. Clearly.

Details to come, so stay tuned. In the meantime I'm going to attempt to design a cool blog header.

(Remember, I'm a writer, not an artist. Expectations should remain low.)

I'm relatively excited about this new endeavor, and may even be on the look-out for a few co-bloggers. If you're interested (and not expecting to be paid) give me a shout at kim {dot} antisdel @ gmail {dot} com.

On a completely random note, I had a dream last night that Saved By the Bell was coming back, and I was going to play the part of Kelly Kapowski. How awesome would THAT be?

Thursday, February 19, 2009

let it out

Sometimes I have those days.

That day when I keep telling myself it'll be okay, it'll get better and it'll all work out. I've just gotta keep my head above water. And then


something happens and I just want to turn off the lights, crawl under my comforter and not come out for days. And make nice with Ben & Jerry's.

Tuesday was that day for me.

I know you're probably expecting some elaborate, drawn out story (cuz I'm dramatic like that from time to time) about how I almost got hit by a bus and then found out Hubs was cheating on me.

That's really not it.

Some days I just get out of wack. There's no way to prepare or prevent. It just happens. By and large, Tuesday wasn't extraordinary one way or the other.

It was just a crap day.

The long and short of it is this. I work in an industry where expectations are very high. You have to have the right look, the right words, the right connections. Basically you need to be "on" all the time.

And it gets annoying.

In my travels on Tuesday and Wednesday, I just got effing sick of it. Running around all day and night trying to be what people wanted me to be, trying to please everyone and piss off no one. Trying to be the best at what I do and make it look easy.

Like I said...I know it's anti-climactic. I just had a bad day. And I felt like I would never get through it.

Then, on the three hour drive home yesterday, I had a nice long talk with myself. I decided I needed to lighten up and relax. Everyone has problems and raging battles in their heads. My problem is, I tend to dwell on those problems. I've just got to learn to let them go.

(Hubs thinks I need to make friends with a little man named Xanex.)

I think I just need Miley Cyrus.

I heard this song on the radio last night and was bawling the whole time. It has a wonderful message and it gave me that little boost I needed. I read somewhere that Miley wrote it herself, and I gotta say, I'm impressed.

Little Miss Cyrus has some smarts up in that melon of hers.

So give it a listen; you might just find yourself wiping away a tear or two. And if you don't, listen to "Everybody Hurts" by REM. If that doesn't work, check yourself for a pulse, because you're dead.

Monday, February 16, 2009

kitty in kansas city

I thought Hubs and I had an understanding.

No Valentine's Day gifts.

We both recognize the silliness of the holiday and that it's just unnecessary to take one day out of the year to express our love for one another when we should be doing it every single day of our lives.

But Hubs is a smart cookie...and he knows me well. He knows I love holidays, even Valentine's Day. Because it gives me a reason to dress in special colors and buy ridiculous presents.

But this year I didn't. Because I followed the rules.

Hubs did not.

To my surprise, on Saturday Hubs gave me a Valentine's Day card from himself and the girls, a new business card holder, a desk organizer, and a Wii American Idol Karaoke game I've been wanting.

I was caught with nothing for him.

I had to think fast. He got me THREE gifts and I had nothing. My only hope was to do what I do best.


Me: (toying with the tags on my new desk organizer) Soooo....guess what?

Hubs: (eyeing me suspiciously) What?

Me: (thinking so hard my brain is swelling and putting my head in danger of exploding.) I got yyooooouuu a present, too, you know.

Hubs: you didn't. And it's okay. Valentine's Day is for girls. I know that.

Me: (thinking....thinking....) Yes! I did! I really did, but I don't have it here, it's something we have to go get.

Hubs: (trying to figure out if I'm lying or just scrambling to come up with something.) What is it, then?

Me: (stalling some more) It's, well, it' see. We are going to the store...and you are going to....go in the store...and pick out....a.........kitty!

Hubs (Laughs) Uh huh. Okay.

And then we sat down on the couch and I fell asleep. And forgot about it.

When I awoke, Hubs asked if I was for serious, because he had looked at some kitty cats up for adoption on-line and found a few he liked. I told him I was of course serious, and we went to the animal clinic.

When we arrived, there were many cats to choose from, but two of the kitties captured our hearts the quickest. Cupcake and his sister Sprinkles were both very animated and adorable, but Cupcake really stood out to me. He is a black and white tuxedo kitty with loads of personality, and I already can't imagine our lives without him.

Pictures below! Welcome to the fam, Cupcake. Even as I write this he's sitting on my lap attempting to add a message of his own on the keyboard. Here's what he has to say:


I'm going to assume that means he enjoys blogging and looks forward to helping me with this endeavor in the future.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

put it on my tab

It's Totally Awkward Tuesday, sponsored by Tova! I haven't done one of these on an actual Tuesday yet because usually Hubs is home by now on Mondays distracting me with love and kisses.

(Or asking for dinner.)

The names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent.

(Not really, I just don't like people to know I'm writing about them. Had some backfires with that in the past.)

My awkward story begins on a beautiful fall day in 2005. I was working at my first real design firm in Kansas City, and had only been employed for about two weeks.

One Monday morning I recieved an email from my colleague Jenn. She and the other designers were going to Cheesecake Factory on Wednesday to celebrate Kelly's birthday. (Kelly was another colleague of ours.) I was invited to join them.

Despite my insatiable love for...

a) food
b) cheesecake
c) reasons to leave the office

...I must admit I was a little apprehensive about agreeing to attend this luncheon. Mainly because, I didn't know anything about the girls in my department.

You know how it goes. You start a new job and you're the odd woman out. Everyone else knows about who's having conceiving problems, who's sleeping with the copy repair man, who forgot to turn in their time sheet last month...

As the new gal on the block, all I could contribute was observations on who wore the best shoes each week.

(Oh yes, I take notes.)

I genuinely just felt awkward agreeing to celebrate the birthday of essentially a perfect stranger.

But like I said, I love cheesecake. So I said yes.

Wednesday rolled around and the 7 of us drove to the restaurant. Somehow I managed to get a spot in the middle of the table, with Kelly to my left and Jenn directly across from me.

I was rather intimidated by Jenn because she was the lead designer at our office, and also Kelly's best friend. People listened when she talked, and she was clearly someone you didn't want to piss off.

The meal passed by pleasantly enough, and toward the end, I actually began to feel surprisingly comfortable. I made some jokes, I heard some good stories about who to avoid at the office, and I began to feel like one of the gals.

The waiter came around after we finished our meal and asked how we wanted the ticket. Of course the usual reply of "split it up, please" was requested, and off he went.

I dug out my debit card and when the waiter brought us each our individual check holders, I placed my payment in the plastic slot.

Then something strange happened.

I noticed one of the girls get $4.00 from her purse and hand the money to the girl next to her. That girl then retrieved $4.00 from her wallet and handed the now $8.00 to the girl next to her. This happened all the way around the table, and then came to me.

So there I am, with approximately $20.00 in my hand and I have no clue what it's for.

Everyone at the table looked at me expectantly.

I turned to Kelly for help, but she was staring at the sky, doing everything possible to avoid looking my way.

Then I noticed Jenn violently trying to mouth something to me.

(Let me just say I am horrible at reading lips. Like...awful. Sometimes when Hubs mouths something like, "I love you" I swear he's asking me to take out the garbage.)

I concentrated hard and tried to make out what my colleague was saying, but all I got was "Dear pitting belly back."


Not wanting to seem stupid (too late), I nodded and smiled and said, "Oh! Okay! Here, Kelly!" and gave her the money.


At that point, Jenn was forced to interject. She was polite, but clearly irritated.

"Kim, the six of us are picking up Kelly's tab. She shouldn't have to pay on her birthday. It's $4.00 each."

(Apparently she had been mouthing, "We're splitting Kelly's check". Which made lots more sense.)


Because no one notified me of this blessed birthday ritual, I was of course ill prepared in the cash department. One of the other girls was kind enough to dig out my share and place it in the check holder.

Kelly was silent the entire time.

As we rode home with a giant awkward elephant in the passenger seat, I kicked myself and solemnly vowed to remember to carry at least $20.00 in my purse at all times.

And to take lip reading lessons.

Monday, February 9, 2009

i'm always late


So...I forgot that yesterday was the one year anniversary of this blog.

I've come a long way, baby.

And yesterday was also the lovely Bess's birthday. I won't share her age, but she is below 30, and that's all that matters.

(She also works at Hallmark. Yes, I am blatantly buttering her up. I have no shame.)

So, happy late bloggyversary to me, happy late birthday to Bess.

Let's go drink.

clocking out

Above is an indication of how the weekend went. So much fun T couldn't even stay awake long enough to see the end of it!

Father-in-law and step-mom-in-law came down from Iowa to visit. We ate, we drank, we watched M's b-ball game (she scored 3 baskets), we played countless hours of Wii, we went bowling, and we laughed and laughed.

And then we slept.

It was a good weekend. Just what I needed.

And Mexico is exactly 4 weeeks away. That's what I really need.

Friday, February 6, 2009

this is why blogging will bite you in the ass

Okay. This has gotten way out of hand. For shiz.

Therefore, I think I now have to step in and explain some things.

(I have re-written this post about 30 times, so hopefully it will say what it needs to say without further offending anyone.)

I mean, I've been accused of meddling in children's lives and causing family disputes. How can I not respond to that?

First, you guys have some awesome, well thought out and totally solid opinions that you are not afraid to share, and I love that.
I think discussions are good and I appreciate everyone keeping it clean and respecting all those involved.

Secondly, I never ever ever ever ever meant for this morning's post to cause SO much drama. I was simply blowing off steam. I felt like an opportunity had been taken from me without a valid reason and I needed to get my feelings out.

(Because it's my blog and I can do that.)

I did not name names, or even fully explain what had happened because I was attempting to keep the parties involved anonymous. Like I said earlier, I was Just. Venting.

This is the whole point of having a blog.

Obviously it is not so anonymous anymore, and that was not my choice.

Thirdly, I have never claimed that this blog is only about bubbles, unicorns and rainbows. This is a personal accounting of my life; the good the bag and the hotness.

(OOOH, maybe I'll change my blog name to that. I kind of dig it.)

In 90% of my posts, I don't use names. Yes, I may write about other individuals, but I try to keep the focus off of them and on me.

(Except Hubs. Because he's got the thickest skin of anybody I know. And he secretly loves the all the attention.)

So here we go...

My Hallmark entry was a b-day card. It featured a photograph because...well, those were the rules.

I love photography, I take pictures of my friends/food/caterpillars/faucets what have you. And my family is well aware of this.

I went through my 3583498 pictures and narrowed to about 19 I considered entering. An awesome pic of my niece B made the final cut. She made an adorable fishy face that I was lucky enough to capture.

(And, that very picture has been posted on the Internet. On this very blog. Right here. It has been seen by the parent(s) and never complained about even once.)

The caption I selected for the birthday card was clean, funny and cute.

When I submitted the card in the competition, I never expected anything would come of it. I mean, yeah, I'm kind of awesome in my own circle of friends, but competing with thousands of other funny writers? I don't hold a candle.

When I entered this contest, my intentions were to do something cool and make someone SMILE.

Then I got the call that my card was chosen and that I had to get permission from the parents for their child to be on the card. No problemo.

I contacted my whole family, so excited that I nearly forgot how to type. I informed SIL (siter in law) and let her know that I'd be sending a release form to sign so B could be on the card.

My SIL texted me and informed me that she was not comfortable with her daughter's picture on a card for millions of people to see.

My initial reaction was surprise, but I assumed that SIL was worried that the card had dirty content or made fun of her daughter in some way. Which I totally get.

So, I sent SIL a long email showing that the contest was absolutley legit, and that her child's name would not be seen by ANYONE but Hallmark.

I received an email back stating that the problem SIL had with the card was the fact that anyone with money could purchase a picture of her daughter.

Hold the phone.

There's no way that can be true. And here's why.

SIL has:

a) a blog. Blog has picture of daughter and daughter's name on it. Anyone can view this blog. They don't need money. They can print that picture at any time.

b) SIL has a Facebook page. With huge picture of daughter on it. Millions of people can print this picture.

c) I have a blog with SIL's daughter and step-son all over it. Have had this blog for over a year that SIL is well aware of, and have never heard a complaint.


I have to wonder, if the issue is really that people can purchase a picture on a Hallmark card, why is it not an issue that there are free pictures of her everywhere else?

Now, I will say, SIL is probably correct when she stated that I should have asked permission before submitting my card idea. But honestly? The thought just never entered my mind.

In hindsight, I maybe should have wondered if SIL would have a problem with her daughter's picture on a Hallmark card.

So...I have learned my lesson. I am truly sorry if I offended anyone.

The last thing I want is people pissed off at me, family or otherwise. I wasn't being malicious or mean spirited or trying to meddle. My intentions were completely innocent.

(But then, you know what they say about good intentions.)

I will take this moment to again apologize to my SIL (because I already apologized once in a private email) if I stepped on her toes as a mother. It was not my intention in the least. I know someday Baby B will know that, too.

We have a difference of opinion, but it's over. The picture isn't going to be published, and no one can purchase B's face for $3.95.

Like I said in my original post, there will be other opportunities for me to participate in competitions. I will get over it. It isn't the end of the world.

Look, bottom line. I am not a mind reader and I am human. I entered the contest based on what I thought I knew of SIL and her opinions.

I will not apologize for expressing my feelings on this blog, because as I mentioned earlier, that is what this blog is for. The great thing about it is...if you don't like what is being said, don't open the page.

I do it all the time.

On a lighter note, it's Friday! And it's going to be gorgeous this weekend. Get out and enjoy it!

almost famous

Please disregard my fabulous news from yesterday. My lifelong dream of creating a Hallmark card is not going to happen after all. At least not this time.

No, Hallmark did not back out. (They're way too awesome for that.)

No, I did not back out. (As if I ever in a million years would!)

Something else happened that I did not ever think to even consider. I'm upset, I'm angry, I'm hurt and yes, I'm blogging about it.

It's times like these that I wish I had an anonymous blog so I could rant and rave about these things and get it off my chest without anyone being the wiser. Kind of like Tova and her blog.

I'm not going to go into all the details of what happened, mainly because I have to draw the line somewhere. I wouldn't want someone airing dirty laundry of mine. But...I think it's perfectly legit to say that I'm mad.

(I mean, I have no problem sharing when my Mom pisses me off, so why not other people?)

The thing is, this whole contest with Hallmark is dream. When I was a kid, I wanted to do three things with my life.

1) Write a novel
2) Work for Hallmark cards
3) Become a gas station attendant

Number one on the list is very difficult to achieve, and requires a lot of time management. Which I suck at.

Number three is, let's be honest, just freaking ridiculous. Clearly.

Number two was probably even less likely to happen than number one, but this contest gave me an opportunity to at least say I did this great thing once upon a time.

And I could be really, really proud of myself.

(I don't get proud of me often, so it was a nice feeling.)

(While it lasted.)

So now I'm stuck with this sick feeling in my stomach. I had to email Hallmark this morning and withdraw my entry.

Last night as I lay in bed, totally unable to sleep, I started thinking.

Am I really going to let this get the best of me?

(I've asked myself this question in other situations, and sometimes the answer truly is "yes". There are some things I just cannot let go.)

But my answer to the question last night was "no." I can't let this setback set me back.

Out of all those contest entries, Hallmark picked me as one of their faves. That says something. I'm sure this isn't the last contest they'll ever have. I was funny enough to get my card selected this time, I can be funny again, yes?

Rejection happens. Sometimes when we least expect it, and for the dumbest reasons we could ever imagine. But it happens.

I am choosing not to let this ruin my week.

(Although yes, it did ruin my day yesterday.)

I am going to continue to enter contests with my "future employer" (that's called a self-fulfilling prophecy) and continue to do what I love to do. Write.

I'm still bummed, I'm still upset, but I will have to find a way to get over it. Dwelling is not going to make anything better. I was wronged, but I should probably get used to it. It will surely happen again someday in some other way.

So, my dear bloggies, you will not see my funny card this summer. It will remain locked in my brain and I will laugh at it in my head for years to come.

And no one can take that away from me.

PS- to all of you that left your comments on yesterday's post telling me that you would buy my card, thank you! You are all so awesome and I'm glad that you support me. Hopefully someday soon we can do it again.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

i care enough to send the very best

You know when you stand in the greeting card section looking for that perfect card and think, "UGH!. I could sooo write this stuff!"

Well now you can think that about MY HALLMARK CARD!!

Have I lost you? Hang on, I'll catch you up.

Yesterday I was informed that I am a finalist in a greeting card competition. But not just any greeting card company.


Oh yes, I said it. HALLMARK.

I submitted a cute picture and a fun birthday greeting in one of Hallmark's many card competitions a few weeks ago. Naturally, I assumed I would never hear anything on the subject again.

Then...a miracle.

The phone rang yesterday afternoon, and the caller ID said "Hallmark." I answered and was told that I am a finalist in the yourbloopers competition. I am one of about 60 other finalists who will have our birthday cards sold in 10,000+ stores nationwide. Whomsoevers card sells the most copies wins a grand price of $2500 bucks and has their card added to the Hallmark lines!


I think they start announcing the finalists to the public soon, so here's a link to their blog if you'd like to check in and see the other finalists. My card will be in stores in early summer.

(Do you all promise to buy my card? I need you, peeps.)

Oh, and for the record, when Hallmark called me to inform me of the fab news, the conversation definitely went something like this:

Phone rings

Me: Hello?

Hallmark: Hi Kim, it's Jane Doe with Hallmark cards, how are you?

Me: (getting a little excited) Good, how are you?

(seriously, was there a need for me to ask how this woman is doing? She works at effing HALLMARK and has my dream job. How could she not be fantastic?)

Hallmark: We're great! We're calling to let you know that you're a finalist in the Hallmark yourbloopers contest!

Me: (literally clapping my hands like a socially inept brain dead retard) Oh yaaaaay!!!

(Yes, I did it. I said "yay" to three or four Hallmark employees as they crowded around a conference call.)

Hallmark: We loved your photo and caption for the birthday card, and your card will be featured in 10,000 Hallmark stores. (continues to explain all the details of my card being a finalist in the contest.) Do you have any questions for us?

Me: (trying to think of something clever. ) This is sooooo great! So when do I find out if I won?

Hallmark: Silence.

(Probably because they are wondering what sort of an idiot they have on the phone. They just explained to me TWO seconds ago that I'm a finalist.)

Hallmark: (after a few moments) already win the prizes we explained. As a finalist. We'll be sending you a package with the details and some forms for you to sign.

Me: Um, right! Okay! This is so exciting! And I'm from Kansas City, just like Hallmark! It's a home town win!!!!

Hallmark: (internal monologue) Wow...did she just say it's a 'home town win'? Psycho.

Me: My friend Bess works there, too! You should tell her I said hello! Wheeee!

Hallmark: click.

Okay, they didn't really hang up on me, but they probably wanted to. Actually, the gals on the phone were super cool and even knew my friend Bess. I'm sure after we hung up they called her and said, "Dude. What up with your friend? She's for real off the reservation."


The whole point of all of this is that I will have my very own birthday card sold at a Hallmark store! Who doesn't wish that every day of their life? And really, even if I don't win the grand prize, I still get to go to the store and buy my OWN CARD!!

(I may or may not be peeing on the floor with excitement.)

And, I have to say, Hubs was a big help with the card's wording. I had a good idea, and he tweaked it a bit to make it even funnier. Because he's Hubs. And he's fabulous.

I'll let you know more when I find out. Stay tuned!

Author's Note: For those of you reading this for the first time, I regret to inform you that I never did see my card in print. *sniffle* Basically, some major drama went down. To read about it click here and here. If you like name calling and temper tantrums, you won't be disappointed.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

if technology were a boy, i'd kiss it on the mouth, probably with tongue

This is not a letter from one of the OC Housewives. Yet.

(Mainly because last night we had dinner with our daughters and were celebrating Hubs' new job. Yip Hip Horray!)

(Although, the celebration wasn't at 100% because there's a chance the job is only temporary. But we don't know that for sure yet, so in the meantime I'm crossing my fingers, keeping a rabbit ear in my pocket, not changing my underwear and lugging around horseshoes for good luck. What? A girl's gotta support her man!)


So like I said, I didn't have time to watch the OC Housewives last night. But I DVR'd it. And it's waiting for me.

I remember as a kid setting our ancient VCR to the exact correct time, leaving the TV on the station the show was on, and then discovering I forgot to set it for standard time and recorded the 9:00 news instead of 90210. Which I technically wasn't allowed to watch anyway.


But NOW...thanks to some genius in TV land, I can tape like, eight shows at once.

(I know you all know this already, but saying it out loud just makes it that much more wonderful.)

Until recently, the only problem I had with our DVR was that you had to watch the show you recorded on the TV that did the recording. It wasn't a huge deal, but it prevented me from exercising.

I'm sorry, what?

Let me explain.

I cannot work out to music. I have never been one of those people who gets "lost in the beat" and can run for hours with just the sounds of the rhythm pumping through my ears.

(Unless I'm at a bar and have about 3 shots of tequila in me. Then I can go all night.)

The problem with exercising to music is the lack of distraction. Music only stimulates my ears, so my eyes are left to wander.

Right to the timer on my treadmill.

(I've only been running for TWO MINUTES? It feels like EIGHTY!!)

I thought I had rectified this dilemma by placing a towel over the timer, but inevitably the suspense would get to me and I would look at my time anyway.

(Kind of like unwrapping Christmas presents under the cloak of night to see what I got. If I did something like that. Which I don't.)

Then I discovered running in front of my fave shows. It all started with Top Model. If I could be distracted by Tyra's huge forehead and wanna-be models bawling in their oatmeal because they gained 1/4 pound, I could run like Forrest Gump.

And I did.

IF I was home at 7:00 each Wednesday. But what if I had an engagement that night? What if Hubs' wanted to take me to The Olive Garden? Would I skip all of that Italian dressing goodness just to stay home and work out to Tyra?

I think not.

The solution then was, of course, record my shows and run at a later time. But as afore mentioned, you must watch the show on the TV you recorded it with.

My treadmill is not in front of that particular TV. And therefore I did not work out.

But then...a few nights ago, a miracle happened.

Hubs was watching some ridiculous show about making cars run better, and a commercial came on about DVR. It talked about how a recent up-grade enabled you to watch recorded shows on any television in the house. I assumed it was a service you have to pay for

(and I am super cheap)

so I knew we would not be getting that particular perk. Hubs was thankfully not as skeptical, and checked our bedroom TV.

And lo, our recorded shows were there. In all their glory.

I almost peed my pants.

Now I can record my favorite old shows (Cosby Show, Saved By the Bell), my favorite sitcom (How I Met Your Mother), my trusty drama's (Prison Break, 24, Lie to Me) and, the holiest of reality TV: Real Housewives of Orange County/New York/Atlanta, Top Model, The City, The Bachelor, True Beauty, Design Star...the list goes on.

And I can work out to them whenever I want.

Yesterday I walked/ran for over an hour getting caught up on The Bachelor.

I even invented a fun little game while watching it.

Every time one of the girls said the date was "so amazing", I kicked up my pace a notch. Five minutes in I was running at 7.0 mph and was to forced to 86 my new game.

And so, the point to all of this is that I'll be watching the OC Housewives tonight, and depending on how inspired I am, I might just have a letter to write.