But Am I Compatible With Eharmony?

Chalk it up to moment of weakness. After seeing one of those sappy eharmony commercials where the couples stare deeply in to one another's eyes and talk about how in love they are and how happy they are to find their soul mate blah blah blah, I broke down and took eharmony's personality test.

The good news: I appear to be a fairly balanced person... at least according to my personality profile results.

The shocking news: I actually got accepted. Eharmony's founder is Neil Clark Warren, an evangelical Christian who won't even let gays apply for eharmony. I was pretty sure my agnostic, divorced self was going to be denied.



The bad news: My inbox has been flooded with eharmony emails. You have a match! We will help you find love! Chuck from Havelock requests "guided communication" (huh?!?!) Just pay $147 for a six month membership.

The weird news: I don't think I am really ready for a serious relationship. The idea of a relationship started via the internet makes me break out in hives.

Quite The Domestic Diva, Aren't I?

Tonight was the first time I attended an event for my meetup group. The theme was Heavy Appetizer and Wine Potluck. The wine part of the equation was easy but heavy appetizer perplexed me for some reason. I really don't have any recipes for heavy appetizers in my (granted very narrow) repertoire. I was planning on making bruschetta but had an epiphany at the supermarket:

fancy-pants artisan bread $4.21
pesto sauce $4.59
grape tomatoes $5.09
fancy-pants mozzeralla $6.78
fresh basil $3.75 +
________________________
TOO MUCH DAMN $$$$$


Not to mention the time it would take to prepare and assemble this recipe. Screw that! I came up with Plan B.

I may not be Martha Stewart but at least I have cute accessories.

The apron says it all.

My secret weapon. Pilsbury Savorings $4.21 a box and only 20 minutes cooking time.

Will anyone guess my dirty little secret?

No way! Just throw them in baking dishes and act like you slaved over a hot stove all day. They even have little fork marks in them so it looks homeade.

All jokes aside, the girls at the meetup were super-friendly and probably wouldn't have cared if I stopped through the Taco Bell drive-thru on the way in.

I Heart Political Satire

Is it just me or is Saturday Night Live on fire this election?

A New 'Do

I can be a bit rigid when picking a hairdresser. My last few were women in their forties. Call me crazy but give me the twenty-something with purple streaks in her hair. I think they are more willing to take risks and will make sure you don't look boring. Since I am new in town, I was kind of flying blind. I noticed my co-worker Laura has really cute highlights so I bit the bullet and asked for her hairdresser's number. I walked in to the salon this morning to discover my stylist was a twenty-something with a purple wash to her dark hair. Jackpot!


Along with a new base color and highlights, the girls in the shop offered up advice on local bars and clubs. What more can you ask for? I love one-stop shopping!

The Sex And The City Movie: A Second Look

** SPOILER ALERT** (Although if you haven't see the movie yet, why are you reading this??? We probably aren't friends anyways.)

I was not in a great mindset the first time I watched the Sex and the City movie. I went to see it with the live-in girlfriend of the guy I had been seeing just days after I broke the news to her that the guy she had moved across the country to be with was a cheating bastard. Yeah... you read that last sentence correctly. Needless to say, there was more drama going on off-screen and neither of us were too open to the dirtbag antics of the men in the movie.

I wasn't very quiet in the movie theater. When Big stood Carrie up at the wedding, I snorted my disapproval. I actually shouted "Bullshit!" when Steve told Miranda that he cheated on her because they hadn't had sex in a long time. And when I realized that Miranda was going to go ahead and meet Steve on the bridge, I started yelling "Don't do it, girl!" I know Christen was ready to stuff me under the seat.

Miranda has always been my favorite character, although I cursed the writers the last few seasons when they saddled her with a whiny-ass slacker bartender and a kid. Seriously? Miranda was a Harvard educated attorney and the best they could come up with for her was Steve?

I was in Target the other day, and noticed that the movie was now out on DVD. Since I own all the seasons of the show, I decided to round out my collection and give the movie another chance.

I must admit, the movie was much better this time around. Yeah... the wedding scene still makes me cringe from how raw the emotion is. I still hate Steve and think his affair is bullshit but this time I noticed how happy Miranda's face was on the bridge. She learned to forgive and seemed like be ready to move on to a better stage of her relationship with Steve. The strength of all the womens' friendships and how they supported each other through hearbreak and happiness stood out to me much more with this viewing. And that is what was always the backbone of the show.

Having said that... I still would have left that bastard Steve standing alone on the bridge. Dirtbag!

Daughter Of The Year Award

The weather has been INSANE here the last few days: gale force winds, grey clouds and pouring rain.


Mom called last night to make sure all was well. A brief snippet:

Mom: I saw that you have some pretty high winds down there.
Me: Yeah, it makes driving fun. I almost got blown off the road a few times.
Mom: Well, hunker down. Try staying off the beach. The riptides are going to be pretty strong. Just in case, you know, you get the urge to go skinny-dipping again.
(insert a few seconds of awkward silence as I try not to choke on my plum wine. Candace later comments on the lovely shade of green I turned at that moment.)
Mom: You know... I do read your blog, dear.

Heh heh... ummmm... hi mom!

Welcome to the Island: LOST edition

This was actually a very tough decision this week. There are so many choices when it comes to the men of LOST. The fact that Henry Ian Cusick (Desmond) didn't make either of our picks attests to that fact. I had to go with Naveen Andrews (Sayid). One hot mutha (shut your mouth fool). He is also loyal and can maim, torture, or kill pretty much anyone who crosses his path. And the hair, wow! As Roadtripper said, I already know he knows his way around an island but he is just as good looking off of it:

Welcome to the Island Naveen, I think you will like this one much better.

Welcome To The Island: The LOST Edition

Let me start this blog post with a warning: Candace and I are enjoying a bottle (or 2) of plum wine with our sushi this evening. My normal writing skills might be a little impaired.

Allow me to present the latest addition to the island: Josh Holloway (aka Sawyer) from LOST. I usually don't care for dirty rednecks but I will make a major exception for this type of perfection. This man is gorgeous. The abs, the dimples, the hair begging to have my fingers running through it, the crystal eyes, the jawline... and did I mention the abs?


We already know how well this man fairs on an island anyways so he will fit right in on ours, no nasty plane crash necessary. Welcome to the island, Josh Holloway.

Kids Say The Darndest Things (Especially When They Are 19 Year Old Marines)

Conversations between myself and one of my students today:

Him: You aren't retired military like the rest of the instructors, are you, ma'am?
Me: No. I just did one tour in the Army and have been a contractor ever since.
Him: Figures... all the pretty girls are in the Army.
Me: Make sure you put your name and information on the roster.
Him: Okay... but I don't know my unit's duty phone number.
Me: That's fine. Just put the name of your unit in that block. We'll make sure you get credit.
Him: Maybe I should just put my cell number there... for you... so... you can like call me... you know... if you wanted to... ma'am.

I am not sure if I should be flattered or horrified that a 19 year old managed to hit on me and call me ma'am in the same sentence. I think these kids have watched too many repeats of "Top Gun". Well, I am no Kelly McGillis (although the fishnets stockings she rocked in her classroom were the shit!)



Come to think of it, that kid has probably never even seen "Top Gun" since it came out before he was even born. Pardon me while I go cry in to my Bloody Mary.

Psssssst: I have to admit... it was kind of sweet and my head barely fit through the door for the rest of the day.

Searching For My Doppelganger

Scientists say that everyone has a twin. Apparently mine is right here in this area. Last week, I was intercepted at the local grocery store by a woman asking me how my kids and husband were. When I told her that I wasn't who she thought I was, she didn't seem to believe me and might of even gotten offended. A few days later, when I opened the door for the cable lady, she exclaimed "Girl... when did you move out here?" Last night I stopped by a local bar where several of the patrons mistook me for her.

From what I have gathered, my doppelganger's name is Kelly and she lives out on Emerald Isle. I just hope she isn't a skank and doesn't owe anyone any money! Funny thing is, I bet we don't even look that much alike.... but it would still be interesting to meet her.

Dirtbag Alert: The Aging Frat Boy

I hated frat boys in college. I only went to their damn parties for the free booze. As I sipped my Pabst Blue Ribbon in a smokey corner surrounded by grunting drones in pukka shell necklaces and Abercrombie cargo shorts, I kept telling myself that someday I would be out in the real world with real men whose life's ambition couldn't be found at the bottom of a beer bong.




Fast forward almost a decade to discover that the guys really haven't changed much. There is a another breed stalking poor unsuspecting women in bars. The Aging Frat Boy still roams in packs. They still tell fart jokes and quote Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller movies with glee. And they still wear those damn pukka shell necklaces and cargo shorts!

But that isn't the worst part. They never reach for their wallets when the bill comes; dates usually end in a half-ass offer to go Dutch. That is, if they even plan an actual date anyways; most of the time it comes down to "Why don't you come over and watch a movie?" (ladies... we all know what that is frat boy-ese for.) When this is all pointed out, they usually fall back on the old stand by of "Well, isn't this what you womens' libbers wanted?" Okay... where is the mens' lib then? If women are becoming more self-sufficient and taking over traditional male roles, why do the men throw temper tantrums and accuse you of emasculation when asked to be more compassionate and caring? I don't want to have to bring home the proverbial bacon, fry it up in the pan and then spend an hour cleaning the kitchen afterward while an aged frat boy sits on the couch playing the latest version of World of Warcraft.

Thanks, but no thanks. Dear Readers... I offer you a glimpse in to my future:

Ramblings of a Wind Swept Mind

As mentioned in the user's manual, I can often be found singing off-key. It's partly because I can never shut my brain off (okay, with enough Vodka I can but that also leads to trips to Spanish hospitals) and a small corner of my brain seems to be a jukebox that is constantly playing. I have actually woken up mid-song and just kept going. Which brings me to my point (yes I have one, kind of...) of my sleep brain. I don't remember my dreams too often but when I do they usually have certain fantastical elements mixing with the mundane to make them weird as hell. Most everyone does, I am assuming. And to prove my sister in law wrong (granted this is the same "democrat" that is now supporting McCain) who says that no one listens when people talk about their dreams (my brother did stick up for me on this saying, yeah, but Rosie's really are f'ed up) I am going to tell you mine. Maybe this way, I can stop thinking of them.

Dream #1: Two nights ago I dreamt I was with my parents at a football game. Evidently a Colts game as Peyton Manning was playing. Somehow, my parents and I were friends with Peyton's parents, and they drove a minivan. They were parked on the road and there was a semi coming so my dad decided to move the elder Mannings' van for them, it proceeded to get hit by said semi anyway. Then I was working the concession stand and the Colts must have lost because Peyton was pissed and at the concession stand to get food. The only food available were boxes of chicken, fries, and other miscellaneous food that didn't really go together. Right when I started flirting with Peyton, my alarm went off scaring the bejeezus out of me.

Dream #2, last night: My family again makes an appearance (can't get rid of them can I?). My brothers and I were all out on vacation or something with my parents. My two brothers took me out for the night, and got me absolutely blotto. I wake up the next morning feeling absolutely wonderful, having no memories of the night before, except for the tattoos I am sporting. And not good tattoos, horrible could have been better if done in prison tattoos. I think there were three of them. Anyhoo, my brothers tell me that I not only got drunk and got tattoos I somehow managed to pawn most of my furniture (even though I wasn't anywhere near memphis where said furniture is located) to further continue my night of debauchery. They didn't do anything to stop it. My parents, upon hearing about it, were not upset at all. Just amused that I had no hangover but no memory of it all. I woke up having that feeling of being incredibly grateful that it was just a dream and pretty pissed at my brothers. Come to think of it, I am pretty pissed at my brothers still.

Anyhoo, if you read this, thanks for reading it, even though it probably makes no sense. I was going to put another moment of zen but the stupid freaking program wouldn't work right. So create your own moment of zen and Enjoy.

Make It Stop!

Everyone knows how much I hate American Apparel ads. But I think they may have outdone themselves this time:



There is such a dark undercurrent running through this ad that makes my liberal heart go all aflutter. Spelling Africa with a K? It is a shout out to Afrikaners, or white colonial Africans. Throw in the lily white model "seductively" posing in tribal prints... seriously, this is so yucky! I really wish American Apparel would just take their ads and go away.

Welcome To The Island: Bloodsuckers 2.0

The best thing about Bad Wolf and my friendship is that we like a lot of the same things but often go to opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to men. Case in point, we both freak on Joss Whedon shows, especially Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But Bad Wolf went with Angel this week so, of course, I end up nominating Angel's arch nemesis, Spike.



Funny thing about this guy: I only love him when he is bleach blonde, wearing a leather trench coat (or no shirt at all!) and speaking in a snarly British accent. I have seen the actor James Marsters in other things but his real life Northern California accent and brown hair just don't do it for me. Sorry James but Spike is the only one sucking on my neck.

Southern Living Roadtripper Style

FAQs concerning my move to North Carolina:

Q: Have you finished unpacking?

A: I still have some boxes here and there but the bulk of it is done.


Q: How's the new job?

A: Ehhhh. I got thrown a curve ball when I discovered that I was expected to fill a different position than what I was told. Most of the people are nice but my immediate office hasn't exactly rolled out the welcome mat for me. It is full of former infantry guys. Maybe they aren't used to a woman... or maybe they are just dicks.

Q: Have you been to the beach?

A: Not during the day yet but I did manage a nocturnal skinny dip while at an after party last Saturday.

Q: Eaten any good seafood yet?

A: Shrimp burgers, shrimp and grits... I am starting to sound like Bubba Gump here.

Q: Have you met anyone interesting?

A: I may have found myself someone to crush on. And he flirts back!!!!!

Welcome to the Island: Bloodsucker Edition

Vampires seem to be all the rage recently. Between the Twilight Movie and True Blood TV Series (both based on books) everybody is trying to see who can have the sexier vampire. They can try all they want, I've got the sexiest right here:

David Boreanaz, who played Angel on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the spinoff Angel. I mean,yowza! Words aren't really needed are they? He may not have the accent Spike has but he did have a soul and a really nice smile:

He can suck my, well, let's just say he's going to need all the energy he can get.

I Am Back, Bitches!

Roadtripper8 was last seen sitting on her porch with her laptop, rejoicing over the fact that she now has an internet connection at her new pad. The new love of her life is the cable person. She was planning on going inside, setting up all her favorite shows on the DVR and possibly start getting ready for work. Please remove Roadtripper8 from the missing persons file.

Get this Magazine Now!

Just got my first issue of Paste Magazine in the mail and it rocks! Hadn't heard of it until they had My Morning Jacket on the cover and I stopped to look at it in an airport (gotta support the local bands gone good). (I am also one of those people that will completely stop whatever I am doing when I hear, see pictures of, or anything related to the Beatles, X-Files or whatever my current obsession happens to be) It covers all of the basics of pop culture (books, music, movies etc) but in a way that totally supports my snobbish sensibilities. You hear about music that they have never heard of on MTV, your local radio stations and most of Sirius for that matter. More importantly you don't hear about Britney Spears, Paris Hilton or any of the other celebrities who make me shudder and throw up a little when I hear about them. and every issue comes with a CD of their fav songs and musicians of the moment. Its only 11 or 12 issues a year but still covers more than Entertainment Weekly hopes to do in a year. Anyhoo, that is my unpaid non-celebrity endorsement. I am off to read more of the mag. And consider this your a-la Daily Show moment of Zen:

Because Maggie and I, we also rock.

Random Musings

Trying to keep up the blog in Roadtripper's absence but my life really isn't that interesting. I have been contemplating a Sarah Palin piece after watching the first part of her Charles Gibson interview and reading several insightful articles but I just get mad and have not been able to rationally or intelligently put my thoughts in order yet. And today is football today and my Colts managed to pull it out of their ass long enough to win, finally. But the one interesting thing I did do this weekend (other than getting the oil changed in my car and rationing my travelling due to unbelievable price gouging at the pumps) was go to the Cooper-Young Festival in Memphis. The C-Y area of Memphis is kind of like Bardstown Rd in Louisville, except with worse restaurants. It is cool and hip and they had plenty of music and crafts. I did find a few gems:

See Roadtripper wasn't lying when she said I was a Beatles fanatic. The best part is I do own a turntable to play the album on. The earrings are made from Guinness bottle caps! and an old key I will be making into a necklace. It was a nice waste of an afternoon. Did go to The Celtic Crossing, an Irish restaurant/pub there and was not impressed. Just because you serve Guinness on tap and play U2 on the sound system does not make you Irish. They had no Strongbow (which yes I realize is English not Irish but all good Irish pubs I have been to have it) and their fish and chips? Not that good.

One other good find from the weekend? The book: Other People's Love Letters edited by Bill Shapiro. Just happened across it at Barnes and Nobles (my second home) and got it on a whim. It is composed, as the title obviously implies, of real love letters written by other people. Some of the letters are funny, some are sweet, some are angry, and some are heartbreaking, as is the end which gives updates to some of the letters. An utter romantic with a pragmatic heart, it gave me hope and is a pleasant way to while away an afternoon. Hopefully Roadtripper will get her cable up soon, one of us has got to be the fun one on here.

Maybe You Can Go Back Home (For A Few Days... At Least)

I was a little worried about moving back in with my parents for the week that all my household belongings were in North Carolina but I had to finish my last week of work at Quantico and clean out the old apartment. My dad is a bit set in his routine and doesn't like any deviation from his norm. I figured that I would cause friction in the house. I am happy to report that the week has went by with few glitches (other than my mom wanting to throw my super loud Sonic Boom alarm clock out the window when it woke her up at 6 AM... what can i say?... I am a heavy sleeper!)

Things I have learned to love at my parents' house:

1. My mom is a kickass cook. I have been spoiled with pork tenderloin, crawfish quiche and other goodies all week long. She would even made a plate and warm it up for me on the nights when I came in late. Mom just had a Wegmans open up down the street from her house that awakened her inner gourmand so she is all about incorporating the latest sheep cheese or spinach focaccia she picked up in to her cooking. Quite a change from my usual dinner of Lean Cuisine and Cheez-Its.



2. The ultra-soft down comforter on the guest bed. Seriously... this thing is like sleeping enveloped in the clouds.



3. The companionship of the coolest dog in the world. Breed? A snorting, wiggling pug. Name? Ouiser Boudreaux, of course. Can you tell who named her? She was my dog for the first 5 months but my parents adopted her when my life got too busy. Ouiser is the quirkiest yet sweetest dog in the world and makes the best cuddle buddy you could ever find. Just look at this face...

Resistance is futile!

I am going to be off the grid for a few days. I am heading back down to North Carolina around 1 PM tomorrow. My cable hookup at the new place isn't until Wednesday, so unless I can find Wi-Fi access somewhere, you won't hear from me for awhile. No worries because Bad Wolf can hold it down in my absence. See y'all later!

A Book To Movie That Just Might Not Suck

I love, love, love Erica Jong's book* "Fear of Flying". The book came out in 1973 but is still relevant and a little titillating even now in 2008. Imagine my joy to read a news bit this morning that "Fear of Flying" is being made in to a movie. Even better, the lead character of Isadora Wing might be played by either Kate Winslet or Maggie Gyllenhaal. Yay! This had better not suck... or have Miley Cyrus as the lead.

*If you haven't read it... run to your local library this instant! Every woman needs to read about the zipless fuck.

Welcome to the Island: Elvis Presley

As per usual, I had an entirely different musician picked out to join the island. But I thought, why not go back to the beginning and why not celebrate my current Memphis status. Using the previously laid out rules, Elvis on the island (at least when I see him, Maggie may differ) will be in his young, Hound dog, yet to sell out to Hollywood stage. I mean come on, those lips, that hair, those eyes, the way he can move those hips!

Even a Beatles fanatic such as myself can appreciate such a fine specimen; it helped moving to Memphis of course. I will just have to keep him away from the peanut butter and banana sandwiches, but I am sure I can think of something to keep him occupied. :)

A Little Warning Would Be Appreciated Here

I am not going to lie: I spend a sizable chunk of my work day surfing blogs. Now that I only have 2 days left at my current job, that amount of time has increased exponentially. One advertisement in particular has been popping up on every site I visit and it is driving me nuts.

Are they hawking socks or an orgy?

I am not a fan of American Apparel anyways. I think that it is a way-overpriced version of Hanes with "hipsters" as its target audience. The ads really kill me. Sure, sex sells but helloooooo.... some of us illegally surf the web for a living. How about a little NSFW warning? I was complaining about it to one of my friends who sent me this. Unlike American Apparel, I will warn my readers that you do not want your boss looking over your shoulder while reading this one.

Welcome To The Island: Henry Rollins

We need a little musical talent on The Island so I am going to bring in the punk rocker that has made me swoon for years. I have the biggest school girl crush on Henry Rollins. He would hate the gushing accolades that I am about to unleash. Very un-punk, I know. But sometimes a girl can't help it... I love this man! I loved him during his Black Flag and Rollins Band days. I went ape shit when the video for "Liar" came out. Something about that cop uniform... and don't get me started on the Superman costume.



Nowadays, I think I love him just a little more with his evolution in to spoken word performances and his show on IFC (seriously... check the show out sometime... you will thank me.) You would think that aging tattooed punk rockers would look silly and irrelevant after awhile but Henry Rollins rocks the tats, muscles, grey hair and razor sharp wit with aplomb. Welcome to The Island, you tattooed silver fox!

Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego (or at least Bad Wolf)

I realized today that it has been quite a while since I have posted, well okay a week, and our faithful readers (shout out to CKD!) may be wondering where the heck I have been. I mean, Roadtripper moved and drove through a tropical storm and still posted! I have been dealing with my own deluge... of pennies. My father gave me over $50 in pennies, unwrapped. And I know I could have taken them to one of those machines and got cash for it but I am stingy and refuse to pay a surcharge for that! And I am little, teensy bit OCD and couldn't stand them sitting there waiting to be wrapped so I have been wrapping them, slowly but surely, every single freaking day. See, I hadn't really disappeared (you'll have to wait a few more weeks into football season for that) but wrapping over 2500 pennies takes a wee bit of time:

But as you can see I am finally done (till I go home next and get more) and will be dropping them off at the bank soon, so you should be hearing more from me. Especially if the Colts don't start playing well! Ciao for now, until tomorrow's delicious island pick.

Best Onscreen Kiss

Every Myspace bulletin survey I fill out always has the question "Have you ever been kissed in the rain?" Uhhhh... no. I know the roots of this phenomenon can be traced to popular kissing in the rain scenes from Spiderman and The Notebook. I get it: you are so overwhelmed with passion that you want to lay a big wet one on him even in adverse weather conditions. But people have taken this to a new level. Kiss in the rain! Take a walk in the rain! Dance in the rain! Sing in the rain! Needlepoint in the rain! Make balloon animals in the rain! What the hell is up with peoples' obsession of doing things in the rain?




It is raining here today. It is chilly and traffic is bad. All I want to do is lock myself indoors and drink hot toddys until the sun comes out again. I definitely don't want to run outside to make out with someone. It is hard to feel romantic when you're cold and have eye makeup running down your face.

I am not a cold-hearted cynic; I am just practical. My favorite onscreen kiss takes place in a dry train station, and still manages to turn me in to a pile of mush with each viewing. It is the last scene of BBC's "North & South", starring Richard Armitage. Yes, my chosen king on the Island.


Harlequin romance novels cribbed all their material from Austen and Gaskell so this story will sound familiar: Girl from South meets boy from North. They hate each other. Boy starts liking girl. Girl snubs boy. Girl regrets her snub and starts liking boy. Misunderstandings keep them apart. Girl gets on a train to head North to profess her love but he isn't there. Boy is down South looking for girl. They meet at the train station as they are heading back to their respective homes. Boy gives girl a flower that he just picked from her favorite garden in the South while looking for her. Apologies are made and misunderstandings cleared while boy takes girl's hand.


Girl picks up boy's hand and kisses it. Very racy for the time! Next thing you know, she'll flash a little ankle.


Boy leans in for the big one. Does that whole cupping her face with his hand thing. I am such a sucker for that move.



Boy takes his sweet time. Lots of deep eye locks and trembling lips but he manages to seal the deal. The photos don't do it justice. It is a hot scene!


See! Who needs cold, sloppy kisses in the rain? This is how it's done.

You Cry :: I Smile

Recent text message received from a sleazy ex who was sleeping with me, his live-in girlfriend and half of Northern Virginia:

"Just so u know after 4 combat tours u r the worst thing ever happened to me."

Hmmmm.... guess he is still holding a grudge because I outed him to the poor girl who moved across the country to be with him. I hope he is reading this now so he knows that I think he is a joke. Did he think I would curl up in the fetal position and cry myself to sleep because he hates me now? Nice try, dirtbag, but I rejoice in the fact that you are lying in that lonely proverbial bed that you made for yourself. Thanks for the compliment... now go away!

I Am Not Afraid Of You, Tropical Storm Hanna!

Reporting live from the windswept shores of North Carolina, this is Roadtripper8...

As if I didn't have enough stress in my life dealing with moving, Tropical Storm Hanna decided to whip up the East Coast as my very own personal Welcome Wagon. We all nervously eyed the quickly gathering clouds in Virginia on Friday, hoping the sky wouldn't break open on us while we were loading the U-Haul. We crossed our fingers as we began our caravan of vehicles at 6 AM Saturday morning. Somewhere around Richmond, we hit the first band of Hanna, and it was as if the gates of hell had opened up.

Luckily we made it all in one piece (slight diversion in Goldsboro with a GPS malfunction and an irrate father who doesn't understand that you need to quit driving circles around a traffic cloverleaf at 70 mph when the device is trying to recalculate your postition) and were welcomed to my new abode with no rain and only some wind. Good news: nothing broken! My super volunteers and I even had time post-move-in Saturday to enjoy some fried seafood followed by an Irish pub. My mom had her first glass of Guinness (and seemed to enjoy it, I am happy to report!)

Thanks to my moving crew for a job well done. Having said that, I think I will hire professional movers next time. This crap is way too much work!

They Like Me... They Really, Really Like Me!

I got my membership approved for the Jacksonville Women's Social Meetup today. Whew! I was starting to get nervous. All jokes aside, they do look like a fun group of women and offer some kickass events. Too bad I am moving this weekend and am going to miss their Haunted Pub Crawl. I went to one of those in Key West and had a blast! Ghosts and booze make for a fun mix indeed. No fear though... the next couple of weeks has several other events to choose from: a grape stomp at a local winery, a kayaking trip and even an "English-style" tea party.

But before becoming a social diva, I need to survive this move. I pick up the moving truck first thing tomorrow and will spend all day lugging furniture and boxes in to it. The plan is to leave early Saturday morning to head down to NC... but Tropical Storm Hanna is threatening the Carolina coast. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Barack the Vote and Barack a Beer

Went to the Flying Saucer (awesome bar, good beer i.e. no miller, budweiser, or coors in sight) for their weekly glass night. Tonight's was Vote night: your choice of either the Barack Obama or John McCain glass with your choice of tasty lager. Of course there was no contest on whose I got:

Any residue you see on the inside of the glass is Guiness, drink of the Gods that is. So don't forget to do what the glass says: vote come November, and remember life is too short to drink bad beer!

My Inner Gay Man Is Squealing With Joy!

The New Generation of 90210 premiered last night. To lure in the old fogies like me, Kelly Taylor and Brenda Walsh are back, bringing Uncle Jesse's wife from Full House and some dude from Melrose Place along for the ride. Still... I wondered if I was really too old for this.

Within the first 10 minutes, they brought out the big guns with the drunk grandma as the reason for the fish out of water family to relocate to Beverly Hills from Kansas. Yay! I love Long Island Ice Tea swilling grandmas. Even better when they are aged Hollywood starlets writing their memiors about all the men they've had sex with. My friend Christen tells me the same actress played "the mean matriarch from Arrested Development" so expect all kinds of wacky hijinks from her.

They better not kill her off!

Just to sweeten the pot, they added a hot English teacher. I surrender, 90210!!! I am your bitch! Again! You now officially have a spot on my DVR. Just don't kill grandma... and have that teacher take his shirt off.

Hot despite all those pesky clothes!

Not sure if my fragile heart can handle all this, but Diane von Furstenberg is on Project Runway tonight! She is the designer known for making kickass wrap dresses that I absolutely covet. If I ever have an extra $800 lying around, I am so heading for her showroom.

The design vixen in her own creation

Reason #278 I Am Ready To Leave Virginia

View of my evening commute

Nothing drives me more bonkers than traffic. If only I could meet the genius urban planner who came up with the bright idea to have only two tiny roads leading out of a military base containing tens of thousands of employees and have those roads dump out on to a major highway that already has swarms of traffic from DC... there would be massive blood spill if I could get my hands on him or her!

Welcome to the Island: Sci-Fi Hunks, Part 1

Bad Wolf here, with my first post. Before I get to the newest addition to the island, I would like to thank Maggie (Roadtripper) for allowing me to contribute here. I will try to live up to her previous posts and all of the lies she has told about me on here. And now to the gloriousness that is the island. I give you David Tennant:

Now I know he is not the typical "hottie" but I am not your typical gal. I do take it as a compliment when I am called a snob but also when I am called a geek. I watch and read a lot of sc-fi and fantasy. Lately, I have been on a big Doctor Who kick (if you haven't watched it, get thee to Netflix and put it in your queue now!). The main reason: David Tennant, the current Doctor. I love a man who looks good in glasses, and do tend do go for those named David (more on that in a future post). He may be a bit on the skinny side but has enough smarts, geeky charm, humor, and versatility to more than make up for it. Oh, and did I mention that he is Scottish? A Scottish/Irish/Welsh/English accent always gets to me too. Hoo-boy!

Welcome to the island, David. Just don't forget your sonic screwdriver.