Oh, Arnie Boy...

When I was a kid, I collected cow stuff. Cow calendars, cow stuffed animals, cow print stuff, you get the picture. One of my favorite things was my cow alarm clock. I saw it at JCPenney, and it was $49.99, which is a ridiculous price for an alarm clock in general, but if you’re ten, is really a lot! Saving up for that clock meant eschewing purchasing all those awesome Lisa Frank stickers, glitter erasers, and Sanrio pencil cases that I was so fond of. But I was determined to save my allowance, and in a couple of short months, bought the clock.

I named him Arnold, because he sounded exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger. The alarm was a cow bell (it actually scared me awake for years) followed by a moo and then “Wake up! Don’t sleep your life away!” Picture Governor Schwarzenegger saying that to you. That’s what my clock sounded like.

Anyway, Arnold was a good and faithful servant up until only a few months ago, when a corroded battery (Kirkland brand, if you were wondering) cut his charmed life short. And until yesterday, Arnold sat mutely on my nightstand, gathering dust, but still watching over me every night. I couldn’t just throw him away. He’s not an old, broken clock. He’s more like a vintage cow figurine now.

By the way, that kind of reasoning is why I’m a cat carcass and a few Hummels shy of being featured on Hoarders. I knew I had to let Arnold go. So I asked my dad to take care of it. That conversation went something like this:

“Lisa, just throw it away.”

“DAD…I can’t. I mean, haven’t you seen the Toy Story movies? I can’t just throw him away! This is his home.”

“Lis, he’s the one who gave up on you. It’s not like you asked much of him…just to tell the time once or twice a day. It’s time to say ‘hasta la vista’ to Arnold.”

So…I did.

Poor Arnold.

A Wink and a Smile

About a month ago I caught myself doing something quite random and tweeted the following: "Driving. I just winked at myself in my rear-view mirror, without thinking. WHO DOES THAT?!"

After laughing at myself for being so lame, I realized that I actually do this every morning as I leave my house. I look in the mirror, give myself a last glance before facing the world, and, completely without thinking, wink and smile at myself.

I wonder a) when I started doing this and b) why I started doing this.

But you know what? The best way to start your day is with a wink and a smile!!

Try it!

In the Red (Literally)

Sometimes, red is good....

Red Lobster's all-you-can-eat Shrimpfest
Red velvet cupcakes from Sprinkles
Red lipstick with an LBD

And sometimes, red is bad....

Being caught red-handed
The Boston Red Sox
And...running a red light

That's right. I got my first ticket ever last week, for running a red light! I'm so ashamed...I wasn't even speeding! Drivers kill people when they run red lights. And now I'm one of those people. I'm a red light runner. And I got nailed for it.

I'm red with embarrassment! I feel like I'm wearing a scarlet letter. It was not a red-letter day.

I've always considered myself a better driver than 99% of people on the road. This was a pretty big blow to my ego. To be honest, I still consider myself a pretty good driver. And I certainly don't belong in traffic school with all those bad drivers...and, I mean, what do you wear to traffic school, anyway? (Maybe I should wear a red dress?)

Ugh.

Right now, red is bad.

Oh, hi...

So...remember that one time when I didn't blog for a month?

Well, it's over.

Please stay tuned.

Hip to be Sugar

I heard through the facebook-status-update-grapevine about these incredible hippo-shaped sugar cookies found on Balboa Island. Now, I generally love delicious things, but when delicious things are shaped like cute animals, resistance is futile. So I knew I had to find these little guys when I went to Balboa for lunch with a friend this week.

We sat down for lunch at Ruby's on the pier and I said, "So, I've heard about these hippo cookies on Balboa. Can we go look for them?"

"Wait. What?"

"Cookies. Shaped like hippos. They're on Balboa Island. They're like, these fabled, amazing cookies. We have to find them. I don't know where they are though. Can we try to find them?"

Pause.

"Okay, why not?" (She's a good friend. Plus...she knew that protesting would be fruitless.)

So after lunch, we drove all the way around the peninsula onto the island and started our treasure hunt. We had nothing to go on except "Hippo cookies. Balboa Island." But they weren't hard to find.

Tucked away among the trays of donuts in the pastry case at Dad's Donuts, which is famous for its Balboa Bars and chocolate-dipped bananas, is a single out-of-place tray of colorfully decorated hippo-shaped sugar cookies, their icing glistening, rainbow sprinkles (two kinds!) haphazardly thrown onto them the way a five-year-old would decorate a cookie, their alert M&M eyes staring back at you...

We gladly paid $1.75 per cookie, satisfied that we had accomplished our mission. And then, the moment of truth: sitting on the bench outside of the shop, we sunk our teeth into the sugary confections. And....our little hippos didn't disappoint. In fact, they were absolutely fresh and sweet and delicious, not dry as sugar cookies are wont to be, and the icing was perfect. They made our fun outing to Balboa complete.

Don't get me wrong. They're no big deal. I mean, they're just sugar cookies. But seriously...they might just be the best sugar cookies you'll ever eat in your life.

Well...That Was Awesome!

This is embarrassing to admit, but until this month, I hadn’t gone to the dentist in…wait for it…over four years. No X-rays, buzzing dental tools, dreaded cleanings, or gentle scolding. For years, I feared going back…I was certain I would be told I needed several root canals, my teeth were on the brink of falling out from some invisible mouth disease, and that I was a bad person for not flossing enough. (Okay…for not flossing at all.)

Putting something like this off for so long is unacceptable and isn’t like me. I mean, I am a hygienic person and a responsible adult. What’s the big deal about going to the dentist? I guess my fear-driven procrastination caused me to put “go to dentist” at the bottom of my to-do list. And there it stayed…for far too long.

Earlier this year, while I stood in line with my friends at Disneyland, dentist appointments came up. (We talked about normal, cool stuff, too. I promise.) My friend told me I have to go to his dentist. “You’ll love him—he’s like a grandpa.” (Note: My grandpa has the shakes and his fingers are the size of sausages—not qualities I desire in a dentist. Nonetheless, I understood the simile.)

Three months later (Hey, slow progress is still progress!), an appointment was made. Two weeks later, I found myself in Dr. Hahn’s office. I expected to hear screams from the back rooms and to see people walking out covered in blood. “We lost another one,” I thought I’d hear someone say. But no…no. All I heard was Kenny G. There were Highlights magazines and photos of nice looking people on the walls with very white smiles and well-groomed hair. They looked so happy. This place was legit.

After some X-rays and major plaque scraping, the report was in: My teeth were “gorgeous.” (His words!) The staff was glad I was there, and they were so genuine and kind and caring. I believe Dr. Hahn even gave me a high-five. A high-five…for me! The prodigal!

Overall the experience was downright pleasant. I even got a goody-bag and an orange toothbrush (how did they know?!). So may this be an encouragement to any of you hesitant dentist appointment-makers. I only wish I had gone sooner. Coffee stains are gone, rest is assured, and the proverbial slate, and literal teeth, are clean. And gorgeous…did I mention that?

How'd You Get My Number?

Last night, while I was hanging out with the Jonas Brothers at the Staples Center with my pals Alana and Natalie (and thousands of hysterical 13-year-olds), I decided that I needed to text Erin because I needed some concert commentary. I knew she was there, but I didn't have her number.

So I just texted our mutual friend, Riley, for it.

When I texted Erin, I had to explain that I got her number from Riley, just so she didn't wonder.

Then I thought about it...and that's actually how I get most people's numbers...from other people. Which is kind of weird.

And totally convenient.

Anyone else?

(Note: The concert was amazing, just in case you were wondering.)

Foot-in-Mouth Disease

I currently work in an environment where mistakes are not a big deal; grace is freely given and the euphemism "learning opportunity" is even used for screw-ups. Pastor Rick actually encourages the staff to make one mistake a day, but a new mistake, because that's how we'll learn.

But what if it's NOT a new mistake? I have put my foot in my mouth this week about five times...and I hate feeling so out of control with my words. I'm not a particularly compulsive person and I generally think before I say things. A horribly awkward fiend has taken over my body (or, my mouth, anyway). It's the only explanation, really. Maybe just shutting up would remedy the situation...

Comfort me and tell me you've made the same mistake over, and over, and over again. I'm just frustrated. Ugh...

Things that Make Me Feel Stupid

Not knowing how to pronounce a word that I understand and have read a hundred times but have never heard pronounced aloud.

Strategy games, like chess, most card games, and Settlers of Catan.

Almost every computer-related or car-related problem.

Trying to text message with T9. I just don't get it.

My diaper bag

Let me preface this post by saying that I am not what I would call “obsessed” with very many brands…really, many generic-brand things sufficiently float my boat. However, I will admit that purses and handbags are very much the exception. That being said, you might’ve noticed my “thing” for Coach stuff.

Well, last year I got an awesome Coach totebag as a gift. It’s big. It’s black. It’s got the signature “C” print all over it, the leather handles, the little keychain tag. I couldn’t wait to use it on my trips to Seattle and London because it was so much more chic than my NorthFace backpack, or to use it for holding my schoolbooks and laptop. It even came with a little pad to wrap my laptop in, and has tons of pockets inside. Basically, it’s the greatest bag ever. I love it like McGill loves his minivan.

Turns out, this totebag is, in fact, a DIAPER BAG. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I, 25-year-old single girl Lisa, own and carry around frequently, a diaper bag. And that handy little cushioned pad that I thought was for my laptop? It’s a changing pad. To change diapers. Ugh. Please.

I’m sure hoping that I don’t give people too much of a maternal impression with it…I still love it, and will still rock it, even if it’s A DIAPER BAG…

Ice Cold Idiot

Actual interaction with Brad Baker today:

...(conversation ends)

LB: Cool.

BB: Cold? (As in, "Do you have a cold?", noting my stuffy nose)

LB: Cool. (Repeating myself, thinking that he misheard me say "Cold" instead of "Cool.")

BB: Cold? (He's still concerned that I'm sick.)

LB: ICE COLD! (I said it like Outkast in the song "Hey Ya!" I didn't know what he wanted me to say.)

BB: No, do you have a cold?

LB: Oh, yeah.

It was funny, trust me.

I'm lame.

Clip It...Clip It Good...

So....I'm not super great at ordering office supplies.

Last week I needed to order paper clips for the office. I thought I ordered six little boxes, but for some reason I didn't look at the quantity that came in one unit. I don't know how it happened, but I ended up ordering about a billion paper clips.

If you want to make paper clip chains, jewelry, a chain mail shirt, or need paper clips for any reason in the next ten years, let me know. I can hook you up.

AWK-WARD...

I have noticed that my level of awkwardness has dramatically increased in the last month or so...yes, dramatically. Just a few of the numerous examples include the following:

Cutting off Tim Davis--at church--and then smiling at him and waving hi. I didn’t mean to cut him off, but I turned and didn’t signal and it was just plain bad driving. And then I smiled and waved like I hadn't just almost caused an accident. Yep. Awkward. Sorry, Tim. I'm usually a way better driver than that.

Making Matt McGill think I am obsessed with him. Apparently he and his new assistant (a good friend of mine) came by my desk one day to see if I could go to lunch last-minute, and I wasn’t there and missed out. That has fueled my strange insistense on getting lunch with them at least twice now. (I normally do not beg to have lunch with people I hardly know. Honest.) Awkward.

Accussing a stranger of being demanding. One of my best friend’s friends is in town, and I had a super awkward interaction with him today. He was saying how, since it's his birthday, he wanted his friends to take the day off work and go surfing with him. A legit request, right? Jokingly, I said that he was a demanding friend. Who says that to a stranger? (I made sure that after I insulted him, I did wish him a happy birthday.) Awkward.

Being rude and awkward to Riley at Chili's. I saw that his car was in the parking lot at Chili’s as I walked in. So when I saw him, I said his car was really dirty. Awkward. A “hello” would have sufficed, right? To right this wrong, I waited until he was leaving the restaurant, and then ran up to him to apologize for saying his car was dirty. He looked at me like I was crazy. Awkward again.

I promise I am not usually this awkward...am I?!

Texting! 1, 2, 3...Texting!

This shouldn't be as big a deal as it is, but I finally got an unlimited text messaging plan!

I'm about, what, six years behind on things? Well, not anymore!

TEXT ME! Anything you want! A snide remark...a stupid joke...that you just heard a Jonas Brothers song on the radio and thought of me...anything!

Here's to entering a new and improved phase of my technology-challenged life...

My lame eyeball saga...

Why does weird stuff like this happen to me? So I went to the doctor today and he said I have an infected tear duct. Um, okay. I felt so lame going to the doctor and telling him my eye hurt. But really...this is super painful. He gave me antibiotics and told me to go to an eye doctor if it's not better by Monday.

Anyway, yeah, just wanted to update you =)

Eye have issues.

So for about five days my right eye has been constantly watering. Weird, right?

I was comparing my tear ducts last night and the right one is twice as big and sore to the touch. What on earth is going on? Am I making unhealthy eye makeup choices? Is something clogged? Do I need an eyepatch?

Just so you know…if you see me “crying” in the next couple of days, it’s just an out-of-control, watery eyeball…unless you really did make me cry. Here’s to keeping you guessing…

I’ll keep you updated on this problem.

Nevermind

Decision made.

I'm here to stay =)

I'm feeling good about this, guys...I have entered a new era of blogging...

Should I??

Should I jump on the blogspot bandwagon? Is there a need to desert my beloved xanga blog? I do feel a bit lonely being the only one on xanga. Does anyone want to create a pro and con list for me? I find them useful tools for making important decisions, like which website to post my blog on.

No one knows this exists so I am not expecting comments, but yeah. Just to let you know, I'm still thinking about it...

In the meantime, find me on xanga.com/SparkyTruman.