“In the future everyone dresses like Katy Perry”

Oh sweet little blog, I have neglected you for FAR too long. And you, my dear readers, I’ve neglected you too. I’m sorry. If I could send you all fountain diet cokes and chocolate chip cookies as “I’m sorry presents”, I totally would. Because, really, is there anything better than fountain diet coke and homemade chocolate chip cookies? I think not.

There’s a LOT going on in my life at the moment and rather than bore y’all with the details, I’m going to gloss over everything. Because, frankly (ugh, I’m starting to sound like Newt Gingrich. Minus the Tiffany’s line of credit. And the megalomania), I’m entirely exhausted of talking about it. But I DO promise a post in the near future explaining everything. I just don’t have it in me right now. Besides, the weather is way too nice to be talking (or even thinking) about depressing things.

The long Easter weekend was just about perfect. I caught up with friends and family in the C-L-E that I hadn’t seen in forever (but there are still many many more that need to be remedied!) and had some much-needed downtime to relax.

Let’s recap.

Thursday was Cleveland Indians Opening Day, which happens to be one of my FAVORITE days of the year. Terry Pluto, one of my all-time favorite writers, wrote an excellent column about the tradition of Opening Day last week that I can’t even begin to sum up. Just click the link and read it, even if you’re not a baseball fan. If you’re a fan of family, traditions, history or have any sort of heart at all, you’ll appreciate it.

Opening Day always makes me think about my family, particularly my siblings and my dad (and by extension, my super-amazing late grandfather). Baseball for us, like many families, is special. It ties us together. Some of my earliest memories are going to baseball games at the old Municipal Stadium with my dad and grandfather. Because I was a picky eater as a kid, my mom ALWAYS packed me a sandwich (I hated hot dogs) and two orange Kool Aid juice boxes. Why two? One for me and one for my grandfather, duh (why I didn’t insist on three is beyond me. Sorry, Dad!). Now, I’m sure the last thing he wanted to drink at the ballpark was orange flavored sugar water and would have MUCH rather preferred a beer (these WERE the 1980s Cleveland Indians. Boozing was required to get through a game), he always humored me and acted like he couldn’t imagine sitting through a baseball game without one. Now that’s true love, people. I wish I had some pictures of the three of us at a game, but, sadly, the best I can do is the memories in my head. Or perhaps draw a picture. I’m very good with stick figures.

This clip from “Field of Dreams” (a Casa D staple growing up) that says it all. Baseball is a constant. It ties generations together. History is respected. There’s a reason on Opening Day you see so many families sitting together, three (or more!) generations laughing (usually at the Tribe’s expense) and cheering. I know one day if I ever have children, I’ll be taking them down to Jacobs Field (whatever, it’ll never be Progressive Field to me), each April, molding them into the sad little creatures the rest of the world knows as “The Cleveland Sports Fan”

Thursday also meant dinner with m’bestie, Sarah (or Kres, or Mama-to-be. She answers to them all). We hit up Angelo’s Pizza in Lakewood for a much needed catch-up session and some yummy margarita pizza. If you haven’t been there before (and live in the CLE), I highly suggest going. The dining area is quite small and fills up quickly in the evenings, but no worries. They do take out and delivery.

And, on Saturday, I FINALLY got to see THIS with my friend, Rachel.

I was so excited and so spastic about FINALLY getting to see Katniss and Peeta (and Cinna! Heart you so bad, Lenny Kravitz), I knocked my diet coke into my purse. So for the remainder of the day, I walked around with wet handbag that also smelled like diet coke. But it didn’t matter. I was too pumped about the movie to care.

I normally don’t get this excited for books-turning-into-movies (the Winona Ryder “Little Women” is an exception. I think I talked about seeing that movie for six months until it came out and my mother was forced to take me—and sit with me while I cried my little eyes out). We’ve already discussed my hatred for all things “Twilight” and I’m not huge on Nicholas Sparks/John Grisham/Whatever-Chick-Lit-Is-Being-Optioned-Today. That’s not to say I don’t like reading those books (with the exception of Nicholas Sparks. I can read one of his books and feel like I’ve read them all). I do. I might make an exception if my girl Jen Lancaster ever options one of her books into a movie. But normally, I’m a book girl. Always have been, always will be.

But, “The Hunger Games” won me over. And I’m happy to report Rach and I were NOT the oldest people in the movie theater.

However, we WERE the snarkiest. We can’t help it. It just happens. It’s innate in us. We BREATHE snark.

Not ten minutes into the movie, Rachel leans over to me and whispers (in a scary, futuristic voice) “In the future, everyone dresses like Katy Perry.” (if you’ve seen the movie—or even previews—you’ll notice that most of the people in it look like extras from a Katy Perry video or, at very least, like they’ve raided Lady Gaga’s closet).

I laughed so hard, I choked on my popcorn.

I’m sure we annoyed everyone else sitting around us with our running commentary: “Think that kid will turn into a werewolf now?” “Ohh, I wonder where Lenny got his gold eyeliner. I wonder if the girls at Sephora can help me later” and “There should definitely be an ‘Avengers’ type movie with Katniss, Peeta, Edward Cullen and Bella. And the ‘Babysitters Club’ can show up too. You know, to get our generation into it” (I should preface by saying that Rach and I have long ago said goodbye to our teenage years).

Sadly, I would definitely watch a ‘Babysitters Club Hunger Games” (No doubt Kristy Thomas would win. She’s a cutthroat bi-oytch, that one).

Easter was lovely. Lots of food and family. My mom, sister and cousins made my Aunt Carol a scrapbook (like the one we made for my grandmother) and we FINALLY finished it on Saturday. We were so pumped to give it to her and, no surprise, she loved it. Being away from family really makes you appreciate the time you do have.

So that’s it. I have to catch up on tonight’s episode of “The Voice” (Tony Lucca better be safe, or I’m blaming Christina Aguilera. But, whatever, I’d blame her for something else).

misadventures with the United States Post Office

It’s no secret I’m not a fan of the Post Office. In fact, on most days, I rather loathe it. Last Saturday’s fiasco with the Arlington branch(es) only fueled my hate-fire (is that a word? If it isn’t, it should be. I’m submitting it to Webster’s next year) of the USPS.

Since moving to DC, I’ve been incredibly homesick. Despite having friends in the area (whom I don’t get to see often because I work so much), it’s been a pretty lonely experience. There have been a few occasions when all I’ve wanted to do is hope in my car and drive the 6 hours to Cleveland to crash on my parents’ couch with my dog.

But I haven’t. Mostly because there’s so much to do with work…but also because just the thought of driving for 6 hours makes me sleepy.

My poor parents have shouldered the brunt of my homesickness-meltdowns (Hi, guys. Thanks for not hanging up on me.) and I’m sure have rolled their eyes when they see its me calling for another round of “Guess Why I’m Crying Today?”

But instead of changing their phone numbers, they sent me a care package from the C-L-E (seriously, how great are they? I definitely don’t deserve them). When I got home from my pal Leah’s farewell fiesta last Friday, I saw the ‘sorry we missed you, you have a package’ card. My mom sent it certified, mainly because she’s afraid someone will steal my mail.

I stopped by the post office near my house first thing on Saturday morning. I handed the card to the super helpful bureaucrat who looked like she would rather be 100 other places, including the dentist. She took one look at the card and promptly told me she couldn’t help me.

“But I live two blocks from here!” I cried. “This is my post office!”

She (super)helpfully pointed to the address on the card. “This says you have to go to the Jackson Avenue branch. We don’t have it here.”

I again tried to tell her that even though I just moved here, I was pretty sure my package would be at the branch closest to my house.

SHB (Super Helpful Bureaucrat) essentially rolled her eyes and said I needed to go to the other post office. I sighed, but acquiesced. I wanted whatever was in the care package and was not about to wait until Tuesday for it (since Monday would be President’s Day = no mail service). I hop in my car, plug in the address to the GPS and see that it’s not TOO far from me.

This is when things got weird(er).  Continue reading

holiday panic! (the sequel)

I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth!

It’s been a crazy week. I had a whirlwind trip to DC. Even though I didn’t get to see the Capitol Christmas Tree (which I REALLY wanted to see), I did get to catch up with a few friends. It’s been exciting to see where all of them are going in their lives: the DEA, the State Department, teaching (secondary and in higher education), think tanks, Capitol Hill. I have really accomplished (and amazing) friends. But honestly, it was just good to see them. There’s an old proverb: “the best mirror is an old friend.” I didn’t fully understand that until I started to spend time with old friends. And it’s true. There’s nothing like sitting around with people that have known you (and loved you) through all of your weird and awkward phases. Shout outs to Heather, Allan & Jes, Steve-o, and Leah. I don’t think you guys even know how much your friendship means to me. Love you so much.

Also? I had an interview for my dream job—so keep your fingers crossed for me!

On the way home, after hearing Josh Groban for the eight hundreth time (without swerving my car into oncoming traffic), I started to think about what my favorite Christmas songs are. And since I got a great response from my 10 worst holiday songs, I thought I’d do my top 10 favorite holiday songs. You know, to get me into the Christmas spirit…and maybe get up the energy to finish (read: start) my Christmas shopping. Especially since Christmas Eve is, you know, TOMORROW. The only thing that’s (almost) done is my grandmother’s scrapbook. Procrastination: holiday style!

So in my effort to NOT go to the mall (and hang out with Mama D), I present to you my (and my mom’s) favorite Christmas songs.

10. “The Christmas Song” — Mel Torme

A classic. And who better to sing it than the guy that wrote it? Although Nat King Cole comes close, no one beats Mel. Besides, Stacey loves the Velvet Fog! (if you didn’t get the Seinfeld reference, I don’t know if we can be friends anymore).

9. “Do they know it’s Christmas” — Band Aid

Like I said before, Band Aid has the special honor of being the only song to be on both the worst and best lists. I know I mocked it before (and, come on, the song BEGS to be mocked), but I really do have a soft spot for it. Especially when they say “the greatest gift they’ll get this year is life”. Makes me feel a little guilty for putting an iPad on my list for Santa. It does put things in perspective, though. That is, if you can get past Boy George and George Michael. Or the hair. The hair is very distracting. But if Bono and David Bowie say it, it must be important. Ziggy Stardust wouldn’t lie to you. He might get glitter on you, but he wouldn’t lie to you.

8. “Christmas All Over Again” — Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

I’ve already talked about how much I love Tom Petty. And this is his Christmas song. And it’s awesome.

7. “Please Come Home For Christmas” — the Eagles (is the The Eagles or just Eagles? I can never remember)

You’ve probably heard it’s more famous sister, the Bon Jovi version (duh, Cindy Crawford was in the video, making out with Jon. It was obviously going to be more popular). But I (and everyone else in Casa D, including my brother, E, who was the one to suggest the song) agrees that (even though Bon Jovi’s pretty awesome), Don Henley and the Eagles are better. Side note: I saw the Eagles a few years ago on the “Long Road Out of Eden” tour and it was the best concert I’ve ever been to. Better than Springsteen, better than Tim McGraw, better than Britney (I KNOW! but it’s true). So Don & Co nail the 7th spot.

6. “Merry Christmas Happy Holidays” — NSYNC

It wouldn’t be a Stacey Top 10 without mention of NSYNC. For me, NSYNC is so tied to my adolescence and my best friends that I couldn’t NOT have an NSYNC song on the list. The entire “Home for Christmas” album reminds me of my best friend, Chelsea. We listened to this album EVERY.SINGLE.DAY driving to and from swim team practice for like 3 straight months. It’s hard not to hear “O Holy Night” and not think of ladder sets and stoke drills instead of, you know, Jesus. Besides, Gary Coleman is in the video and Joey is wearing a pair of ski goggles NOT ironically. Like he really thought they were an excellent fashion statement. So good.

5. “All Alone On Christmas” — Darlene Love

Most people know this song as the “Home Alone 2” song (because it was written for the movie), but most people don’t know that the band is the E Street Band—that saxophone you hear? Clarence Clemons (RIP, Big Man, you’re so missed). Sweet drum solo? Max Weinberg (who does not look happy to be starring in a music video with Macaulay Culkin. I imagine Kit Culkin was skulking around the set, being all “helicopter parent/fame whore”. I wouldn’t be happy either). Patti Scialfa (Mrs. Bruce Springsteen) looks exceptionally pretty (she’s the red headed singer) and it looks like Little Steven (Van Zandt) broke out his “dressy” bandana and pirate costume for the occasion. Joking aside, the song is terrific—I’ve been listening to it on a loop for the past day. Besides, the music video not only has Clarence wearing a sweet hat and smiling (and being nice to that Culkin kid), but also some of the funniest parts of the movie (and Home Alone 2 is one of my all time favorite movies). Also, where can I find Darlene’s sweet jacket. I need one.

4.. “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” — U2 (but it’s been covered to death)

I know, I know. The lovely Darlene Love sang the original. But the U2 version is my favesies. I’m not even the biggest U2 fan (sorry, but it’s true), but I AM a huge fan of Bono in general. I think he’s one of the coolest dudes on the planet—he would definitely be on my list of people that I’d like to have dinner with. Seriously, he could totally talk Vatican news with me and then belt out this song. Perfect. The song itself is wonderful, which is probably why it’s been covered so many times. Phil Spector clearly knew what he was doing. Before he began a homicidal maniac and stopped cutting his hair. Besides Mr. Bono, I’ve always been partial to the Mariah Carey and Hanson (shameful, I know) versions. Until I came across this baby.

Jon Bon Jovi, in a tux, singing this song. That’s it. I die. End of story. Yum.

3. “All I Want for Christmas is You” — Mariah Carey

Ok, so the video is pretty stupid. Mariah with a rabbit decorating a tree, in a realllllyyy ugly snowsuit, hanging out with Santa (how much you wanna bet that it was Tommy Mattola in a Santa costume). But the song is SO GOOD. I would (and do) listen to it year round. I don’t care if it’s a “Christmas” song. It’s a flat out great pop song. I don’t care if you hate everything associated with Christmas, you hear this song and you want to go buy a tree and bake Christmas cookies. It’s that good. And it’s so rare for a recent(ish) song that’s not a cover or one of the “Holiday Classics” to become a Christmas staple, but this one did. Besides, that little girl sand it at the end of “Love Actually” (one of my all time favorite movies) and this song was recorded BEFORE Mariah lost her mind and started to work out in stilettos.

2. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” — James Taylor

The standard has been Frank Sinatra. though I love Old Blue Eyes, I like Sweet Baby James’s version better. Mostly because he sings the song the way that it was SUPPOSED to be sung. The line “hang a shining star up on the highest bough” was originally “until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow”, which not only makes more logical sense, but also sounds better. But Frank thought it was too depressing so he made the writers change it (must be nice to wield that kind of power). Luckily for us, James Taylor isn’t strongarmed by Sinatra’s demands and sings it the right way. And it it beautiful.

1. “Little Drummer Boy” — Bing Crosby and David Bowie

In a word: perfect. I love this song so much that I can’t think of anything snarky to say about it or mock it (except for maybe David Bowie’s hair). Unfortunately Bing died not too long after this was recorded, so this was his last Christmas Special. Arguably his best. Take that back, NOT arguably. It is his best.

Bonus:

Eric Cartman — “O Holy Night”

I don’t care if it’s blasphemous. It’s also really funny.

So there you go.

I suppose I should head out to shop, otherwise the only thing my family is going to get for Christmas is a hug.

this should put a smile on your face

It seems like everyone is getting into the holiday spirit, including six year old, Aiden Moe (click on the link for the news story!) from Bryan, South Dakota.

The adorable (and bespecled) youngster used the $1000 prize he won to buy 100 pillow pets to give to kids staying at the Sioux Falls Ronald McDonald House (if you remember I wrote this about RMH a few weeks ago).

Aiden had been a patient at Brookings Hospital when someone gave him a pillow pet. He loved it so much and wanted OTHER sick kids to have one too. So instead of buying, well, whatever six year olds like (dinosaurs? baseball? I don’t know much about little kids), he used the money to help others.

What an awesome little boy. And a reminder that you don’t have to be an adult (or even have all your permanent teeth!) to make a difference in someone’s life.

And, if you’re looking for a great organization to support, might I suggest Cleveland Ronald McDonald House?

Holiday Panic! (and some crappy Christmas Carols)

Christmas is right around the corner. Seriously. It’s next week. How did that happen. I have exactly ZERO percent of my shopping done and I’m afraid of the mall. Well, not really (I do love to shop), but I hate! hate! hate! the mall during the holiday season, particularly the week before Christmas. It’s basically amateur hour—and let’s face it, if they awarded PhDs in shopping, I’d have graduated summa cum laude.

I consider myself a pretty good gift giver, mostly because when I shop for others, I’m obsessively organized. I have a list (Santa has his, Stacey has hers. Mine’s probably better because it’s usually sparkly and pink) with everyone I need to shop for, what I want to get them and where I want to get it (all organized by grouping). I try really hard not to veer too much from the list, otherwise I’d go wild (and broke). I LOVE shopping for other people and picking out the perfect present.

I haven’t even started my list this year.

I was going to do a little shopping today, but I ended up having a 2+ hour lunch at Tommy’s with one of my best girls, Sarah (aka Kres). I hadn’t seen her in a few weeks—she just finished her MBA and her last semester was a killer. We dished about everything and (of course) about Baby Kres (who will be making his/her debut into the world in May. I’m so excited and happy for her!).

During lunch, the conversation drifted towards holidays and specifically Christmas carols. I have an unhealthy love for cheesy Christmas songs (I own so many ridiculous holiday themed cds, it’s embarrassing). But, since I also have an extra snarky gene, I also hate on songs. A LOT. Kres hates a lot of the same things I do, so we make a fine team. We started talking about the 10 worst Christmas carols that we know. I’ve been floating this top ten list in my head for the past few weeks, but it was solidified today.

So, without further ado, the S-Dizzle Holiday Hates

10. Cherry Cherry Christmas — Neil Diamond

This is terrible. Period. I have an intense dislike of Neil (except in ‘Saving Silverman’—which is awesome(ly bad)) and this song makes absolutely no sense. Neil talk-sings his way through a bunch of non-sensical lyrics (a cherry cherry rock n roll holy happy Christmas? yuck) before screaming “It’s a Cherry Cherry Christmas Everyone!” at the song’s end. I don’t want to know what a Cherry Cherry Christmas is, much less have one. Grade: FAIL.

9. Please Daddy (Don’t Get Drunk this Christmas) — John Denver

I normally don’t mind John Denver—and his songs with the Muppets are an S-Dizzle favorite—but this song is awful. First of all, how ridiculous is it that a grown man is talking about being “almost 8 years old”. That alone makes it worthy of being in my top 10. Add in some schmalzy and terrible lyrics and Denver’s extra-twangy voice and it’s enough to make your ears bleed. Besides, I know lots of people that can only get through the holidays by drinking. Lets not make them feel bad, k? k. Also, didn’t Denver get arrested a few times for DUIs? Irony’s a bitch, I guess.

8. Christmas Conga — Cyndi Lauper

What’s worse than Cyndi Lauper singing? Cyndi Lauper singing with a Mariachi band. Add in a holiday theme and you’ve got a contender for the worst Christmas song of all time. Maybe she felt there was a hole in Mexican holiday music that Jose Feliciano can’t fill (seriously, how many versions of ‘Feliz Navidad’ can you really do??). In any case. she was either drunk or heavily medicated when she recorded this song. There’s no other explanation.

7. Merry Christmas With Love — Clay Aiken

Since I couldn’t put “Invisible” on this list (not a holiday song, damn my self-made parameters!), this is the next best thing. though not as stalkery as “invisible”, where it lacks in a future restraining order, it more than makes up for it in depressing visuals. Old lady? Check. Kids all gone? Check. Unhappy Ending? Double check. I don’t know if maybe Clay received coal (or maybe sporting goods?) too many years, but someone should let him know that people want to be cheered up when they listen to holiday music. Not take a prozac.

6. ANYTHING by Josh Groban

Just google “Josh Groban” and “Christmas” and you’ll be treated to a varied assortment of migraine-inducing holiday cheer. Or turn on your radio. Listen for five minutes. There is a 99% chance he will be on the radio. If driving, resist the urge to swerve into oncoming traffic.

5. Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town — Bruce Springsteen (or Justin Bieber)

This is a special countdown addition. While I don’t hate this song all that much (yes, it gets annoying. and quick), my aforementioned bestie, Sarah (see above) hates the Boss’s version. Me? I can’t stand the Biebs’ version, in all its tech-y, synth-y glory. Not to mention the kid thinks he’s the second coming of Usher (or maybe he thinks Usher is his dad? I don’t know).

4. Do They Know It’s Christmas? — Band Aid

This song has a special place as it is on both my worst and favorite Christmas song lists. I know it’s a terrible, schmalzy song…but I can’t help but secretly (or not so secretly) love it. Boy George, George Michael AND Elton John in one song? HILARIOUS. But you have to wonder what Bono thinks when he hears this song (except for maybe “why?”). On second thought, Bono probably has people to make sure that the song is never played in his presence. Ever. I do wonder what the proceeds from the song go to now? Maybe the “Peaches Geldof Criminal Defense Fund“? Just a thought. But seriously, why? Did Geldof wake up one morning and go “You know what’s missing in the holiday carol universe? a song about Africa.” Because nothing says Merry Christmas like starving Africans.

3. Blue Christmas — Elvis

Elvis ranks up there with Neil Diamond as someone that I could go forever without listening to (with the exception of the mega classic “Suspicious Minds” which is awesome). This song is the worst of anything Elvis has ever sung (and I’m including the mega awful Viva Las Vegas years). I can’t pinpoint exactly what makes me hate this song so much. Maybe it’s his voice and his inability to get through the song without stuttering (and this coming from someone that s-s-s-stuttered for the first twelve years of her life) or maybe it’s simply the fact it is a TERRIBLE SONG in all variants (not even the lovely Martina McBride could save this awful song).

2. Mary Did You Know — Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd

I don’t actually hate the song…when it’s not sung by a man whose plastic surgery should be on everybody’s ‘worst of’ list and the less famous Judd sister. I can’t quite put my finger on WHY I hate the song so much (maybe the fact it’s been overplayed the last few years) other than Kenny’s voice is grating and repetative…and then Wynonna jumps in, sounding like she just fell off a barstool and got into a fight on the way up. Terrible.

1. The Christmas Shoes — NewSong

Come on, are you REALLY surprised? This song manages to cause strong reactions in people. And not positive ones either. This song can (and has) single-handedly ruined the holiday season for people. You know the minute you hear this song, you’re going to be sulking and complaining for the next few hours about how terrible this song really is. If you are one of the lucky few to have never heard the song before, all you need to know is that the song is about a dirty little boy that wants to buy his dying mom shoes for when she meets Jesus. Yeah, because we all know Jesus is really concerned with what everyone’s wearing to heaven. Add in a guy that sounds like he really “feels” the music, a children’s choir and more insipid lyrics that what’s found in an entire Hallmark store and you’ve an idea of what the song is. In my first circle of hell, this song would be playing on repeat for eternity. If I could physically fight a song, this would be the one. And I would kick the crap out of it.

So there you go. Honorable (or not so honorable) mentions to Karen Carpenter, WINGS, and Elton John. It was a valiant effort, guys, but you just weren’t terrible enough.

today’s post is brought to you by small time crooks and WalMart

I know it’s been a few days since I’ve posted, but, well, LIFE got in the way. Finals are over (yay!) and that means the Christmas season is here. I’m looking forward to hanging out with the dog, seeing friends that I haven’t seen in FAR too long, finishing my grandmother’s Christmas present (scrapbook!) with my sister, baking (gluten-free!) Christmas cookies, and (of course) watching every conceivable made-for-tv movie (there’s already 4 on my DVR. I’m so pumped).

So, in the spirit of the holidays, I’m going to share with all of you one of my favorite (and true!) stories that happened last year when I was in Columbus, visiting my sister before Christmas.

I’ve blogged pretty extensively about my younger sister, Nicole. She’s one of my favorite people in the world and I love hanging out with her, despite living 2+ hours away. So when we DO get to hang out, it’s always a treat.

So last year, to celebrate the end of finals (double yay!), I made the trek down to Columbus (side note: I lived in Columbus a few years ago and it really is a great town) to visit for the weekend. Since it was literally the day after I finished with law finals, I had done exactly ZERO Christmas shopping. Nicole and I figured we’d figure out what to get our parents and our brother (and other random people too) and maybe try a new restaurant. It was going to be a nice quiet, stress-free weekend.

That clearly didn’t happen.

I met her at Easton so we could go have lunch (Northstar Cafe—if you haven’t been, go! And try the Champagne Vinaigrette.). We stopped back at the Verizon store (so I could get my car to drop off at Nicole’s apartment).

That’s when the day started to get weird.

I noticed someone had smashed my passenger’s side window. Initially, I thought it was a hit and run. However, upon further inspection, I realized someone broke into my car. They tore through EVERYTHING.I assume they thought they’d find a laptop, iPad, iPod or something else like it. However, they were wrong. The only things in my car were ancient sweatpants from college, a pair of brown Uggs (sue me, I wear Uggs), a few cosmetic items (makeup, toothbrush, contact solution), a pillow, and a few law textbooks.

The bastards left everything, but my eyeglasses and toothbrush.

Here’s the note I left them on facebook (but I doubt they got it).

dear idiot who broke into my car, 
i hope you enjoy my used toothbrush, three-quarters gone foundation and blush and my eyeglasses. i really appreciate you leaving my textbooks, GRE prep books and the chik-fil-a coupon. i’m sorry there wasn’t anything really good in the car for you (but, tough, you got an extremely lovely pair of prada eyeglasses). hope santa brings you a warrant for your arrest. 
love, stacey

I was robbed by the worst criminals ever—considering the only things they stole were a pair of eyeglasses, an old toothbrush and some used makeup. I was still (rightly) pissed.

So, since I had to buy a new toothbrush, Nicole and I headed  to WalMart.

If there is one thing you should know about Nicole (and my dad) is that they HATE WalMart. Hate it the way that I hate “The View” and Joy Behar.

But we went anyway because Nicole had to return something (it was part of a Halloween costume that she never used). The two of us pull up to Wal-Mart, I’m pissy because I was robbed, Nicole is pissy because we’re at WalMart.

We head into the store and see the return line is ridiculous. And this isn’t one of those nice newer WalMarts either. This is an old-school, dirty, icky Wal-Mart. There’s a huge-ish line of people waiting and one person doing actual work behind the counter. The other few people are there just to hang out (or something). So now that’s making us TWICE as angry.

So we stand there waiting, me complaining about my glasses (I loved those glasses) and Nicole complaining about Wal-Mart. We see a woman get in line behind us, struggling with her “bag 0 crap” (which is what I called it. I think it was actually just a bunch of hangers in a few plastic bags). She had her daughter with her—an adult, but looked like she had some sort of handicap. The mother was struggling to hold the bag o crap and zip up her daughter’s coat.

Nicole, being the sweetheart she is, got over her hatred of WalMart and asked the woman if she could help her—maybe hold her bag so she could help her daughter.

Now, I SWEAR TO GOD that this next portion is true.

The daughter, who had been fighting her mother, had her head down. She snapped her head up to stare at my sister, threw her middle finger in Nicole’s face, and then (BEST PART), started to kick her in the shins.

Nicole froze, not knowing what to do (me? I was busy trying to figure out how to work the video camera on my iPhone to capture this special memory forever, all while laughing myself to an asthma attack). The mother, sort of feeling embarrassed, calmly told her daughter “Now, Heather, that’s not very nice,” and lead her away from Nicole.

Nicole looks at me and says (something to the effect of) “Did that just happen??” I was still laughing too hard to answer, so the other people in line assured her that, yes, in fact, she did just get flipped off and kicked in a WalMart.

The best part? We’re still in line! There was NO WAY we were leaving until we got that stupid shirt returned. The next ten minutes were spent split between silence (wondering what the hell just happened) and fits of giggles (mostly courtesy of me). She finally returned her shirt and the cashier said that was the craziest thing she had seen in awhile (I assume other ridiculous things happen at WalMart. people of walmart is a site for a reason). As we’re ready to go, I see that Heather’s mom is back (with her bag o crap).

She (Heather’s mom) is just standing there. The cashier says that she can take the next person. Heather’s mom doesn’t move. The cashier says, again, she can take her. Again, Heather’s mom just stands there. So the woman behind her shrugs and walks to the counter.

This gets Heather’s mom’s attention. She grabs her bag o crap, shoves the other woman out of the way, throws said bag o crap on the counter and screeches “EX-CUSE ME, BUT I WAS NEXT”. The other woman (a remarkably normal lady, looking as incredulous about what was going on as Nicole and I were) was taken aback and tried to apologize, but Heather’s mom didn’t want to hear it. She ignored the other lady and then proceeded to dump out the bag o crap…which was, in fact, a bunch of hangers. I burst out laughing (and, again, trying to figure out how to video tape this gem).

You can’t make this stuff up.

And, on our way out, Nicole says (incredibly loudly) “That’s it! This place is the worst! WE’RE GOING TO TARGET” (or something like that, I was still laughing my face off).

So there you have it. I was robbed, Nicole was assaulted, and WalMart was forced to take back an entire bag of hangers (or risk being attacked by Heather).

This year, Nicole is coming up HERE and we’re definitely not going to to WalMart. That’s a promise.

someday…(Justin Bieber will eventually go away)

Since I DVR just about everything I watch, I rarely see commercials. However, today I was watching a terrible made-for-tv Lifetime holiday movie starring Dr. Johnny Fever and Janet Gavin—obvs not their real names, but since Howard Hesseman & Andrea Roth haven’t been in anything else noteworthy (with the exception of Hesseman’s tenure on “Head of the Class”—a longtime S-Dizzle favorite) they will forever be known as that DJ from WKRP and Tommy Gavin’s crazy wife. I can’t even tell you what the movie was about other than Janet Gavin wearing a chauffeur’s hat for most of the movie and being set up with a gay guy.

I’m getting off track. This is about commercials. A Justin Bieber commercial in particular

I saw this little gem and found myself laughing myself into an asthma attack. I don’t know what’s the funniest part—Justin Bieber singing an annoying Christmas song in the middle of a tree farm and then in the middle of the street or the fact that someone is selling his perfume at a random outdoor kiosk in the middle of said tree farm.

There are so many questionable things about this. Is that his girlfriend? Did he see her window shopping and go “I must have her. Immediately. I shall show her what a man I am buy taking her to a Christmas tree farm and spraying her with some cheap smelling perfume!”?

If it was his girlfriend, I’d be super annoyed that for Christmas my uber pop star boyfriend gave me a crappy bottle of his nasty smelling perfume. I’d begin to question all of my life choices that had lead up to that moment.

If it was someone he just met, it gets even weirder. How does he know where she lives? And why does the note say “I knew someday that we’d be together.” Creepy. If Justin Bieber sent me that little gift, I’d probably call my attorney and request a restraining order and check my house for bugs and buy a really big guard dog that could take out Justin Bieber in two seconds.

I suppose Justin Bieber needs to do everything he can now…before the eventual flood of paternity suits. You KNOW this lady is going to be calling soon.

“Justin Bieber owes me!”