Monday, July 31, 2006


Found this and haven't stopped laughing. Decided to try my hand at a few of my own:

Dear Chocolate Lava Cake From Chili's That My Roommate And I Devoured In Six Minutes Flat,

Was it good for you, too?


Dear Reasonably Priced Apartments in a Safe Location Near Downtown Nashville,



Dear American Idol Producers That Hold Auditions On A Monday,

You're missing out.


Dear Money That Gets Taken Out Of My Paycheck For Ridiculous Stuff Like Parking Fees,

I'm okay with having to starve. Heck, I could stand to lose a few pounds anyway.


Dear Waiter That Never Called Even Though I Left My Number On the Receipt,

What YOU don't know is that I only left my number because my roommate dared me, not because you were cute. Because you weren't. The joke's on you, pal.


Dear 2:30 On A Monday and Nothing To Show For It,



Dear Missing Office Security Pass,

How nice of you to come out from under the stove (?!) the day AFTER I build up the nerve to tell my boss that I lost you. That's just mean.


Dear Chocolate Candy On My Neighbor's Desk,

Quit calling my name!


Dear Country Music Stars,

Are we playing hide-and-seek?


Dear Facebook,

Why don't YOU just start mailing me paychecks, and we'll eliminate the middleman?


Dear Money, Was it something I did? Love, L

I wish I'd thought to start that blog. Maybe I will become the girl that writes funny haikus:

Poor chocolate cake.
You never saw us coming!
Like moths to a flame.

Dang wedding gifts.
Wait til it's my turn. Sterling
silver forks? 12 please!

Who needs a husband
when I have wine, ice cream and
season 8 of Friends?

Ass, please stop growing.
I promise I'll dress better
if you'll do your part.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006


1. Graeter's and the people that deliver it
2. out til 2 a.m. on a Monday... all in the name of friendship
3. FRIENDS Scene-It
4. Creepy Dungeons and Dragons People in the park
5. high school memories
6. pranks!

1. possibly being homeless in 2 weeks
2. summer's end approaching
3. the DMV
4. oversleeping

Monday, July 17, 2006


Apparently this is the thing to do now? We'll see who pays attention... maybe someone will COMMENT!

  1. National Ice Cream Day
  2. So You Think You Can Dance?
  3. Confident Law Students
  4. Old friends

  1. Whistleblowers
  2. missing family
  3. US Postal Service... are they kidding?
  4. Being BORED AT WORK

Thursday, July 06, 2006


More favorite memories involving my favorite readers:

6. How embarassing--and I ain't LION!
Football season sure does make people exicted. It will make people dye or even shave their hair, paint various body parts and do all sorts of other otherwise idiotic acts purely in the name of team loyalty and school spirit. My favorite memory involving such enthusiasm occurred at the first pep rally of my freshman year of high school. All of the students had entered the gymnasium, the band was playing and the cheerleaders were hopping about. All of a sudden, from the corner of the gym comes our very first mascot! The school had purchased a lion suit and someone was dancing - albeit poorly - around in the suit to show it off. Then the big moment for the reveal came. Who was the secret soul that christened our mascot uniform? The lion slowly removed its enormous, oversized and disproportionate head from its body. The key word: slowly. It was like a slow motion scene in a movie, but that made it all the more hilarious, because as the lion removed its head, all +400 students and faculty packed into the gymnasium were made privy to two important pieces of information. First, our affeminate (and rumored to have been gay in his early years) principal was our mascot for the day. Second, and more importantly, HE WAS BALD! This was entirely obvious to all the spectators because as the lion head came off of his body, so did his toupee! We could see it: the toupee was stuck partially to both his head and the suit, but as he was removing the mascot head, the toupee decided to stay attached inside the lion. Naturally, pandemoneum errupted inside the gymnasium. My mom happened to be there fiming the pep rally because my sister's dance team was performing so she got the whole thing on video. People were going nuts, whooping and hollering and pointing. I think one kid fell out of the bleachers. Needless to say, the students were not the principal's biggest fans, and took great delight in his misfortune. This was a man who was known to drive a convertible while wearing an ascot and a beret. He was both flaming AND unpopular. My cheerleading "Coach" was standing right beside the principal and she tried to help him, but it was too late because everyone had seen. Together, the principal and "Coach" fished the toupee out of the lion's head and slapped it on the principal's chrome dome. Utterly embarrassed, he lowered the lion head back onto his body and tiptoed - yes, tiptoed - out of the gymnasium. Needless to say, I don't think he attended the football game that night.

7. The Worst Pick Up Line Ever
Another weekend of junior year and my friends and I were left to our own devices. We were trying to get a group together to do something or meet at someone's house so we decided to wait for some people at this random gas station on 280. One of my best friends, whom I'll call Sexy (you'll see why by the end of this story) and I were with Little Bit, and to pass the time, we decided to go into the gas station. This particular gas station is notorious for selling beer to minors, but that is NOT why we were there. However, I'm sure that IS why the random sketchy thugs that kept following Sexy around were there. She would be on one side of the aisle, and Sketchy Thug 1 and 2 would be on the other side, peering over the Musketeers and Milky Ways to stare at her. She'd move; they'd follow. This cat and mouse chase continued all over the store, until one of them finally approached Sexy on his way out of the store. Luckily, I was close enough to hear him actually say what turned out to be the worst pick-up line I have ever heard, or else I would never believe this story. He walked up to her, looked her up and down, and said, almost nervously, "Damn, girl! You got some sexy eyebrows!" Sexy looked at me, he scurried out of the store, and we burst into laughter. Almost 10 years later, that story is still funny to me. Sexy eyes, sexy butt, I could see a Thug complimenting a lot of different things about my friend. But really, who compliments your eyebrows, besides other girls and gay men?

8. She-he?
This story takes place one summer of college when I was working as a freshman orientation leader at Auburn. There were 36 of us and we were all rowdy in our own way. Especially rambunctious was one fellow whom I'll call Junior, as in Will Ferrell, Jr. He had been entertaining us all summer long, but this happened to be the one time that summer when a) no other counselors were around and b) he wasn't TRYING to be funny or awkward. Anyway, on the last morning of the camps, the students had to clear out of the residence halls before we let them go register for classes. This mass exodus from the Quad took place at like 7:30 a.m., so none of us were fully alert and thinking cognitively. Since some of the girls brought like 5 bags for a 48 hour trip to Auburn, it was not uncommon for dads, brothers, boyfriends, even our sweet male counselors to be seen loaded down with 8 different Vera Bradley bags (of the same 4 patterns), and the girls to be strutting alongside them empty-handed. So Junior gets into the elevator one Friday morning. It stops at the girls' floor and handful of people - including a boy - get on. Junior assumed that all of the luggage he was carrying belonged to his empty-handed sister, who got onto the elevator with him and was now standing beside him. Wanting to overcome that awkward elevator silence, Junior looked at the luggage-free girl, nodded toward the boy and said "Got your brother to carry all of your stuff, huh?" No one said a word back. The girl and her brother didn't even crack a smile. It wasn't until the elevator had stopped on the first floor and everyone had exited hastily that someone finally told Junior that the boy was actually a girl. OOPS!

Wednesday, July 05, 2006


I have decided that I am only doing a disservice to all of you by only posting stories about my own plights and calamities on this blog. Even funnier than my own drama is the drama of my friends and my reader(s). Therefore, I present (in no particular order) My Favorite Memories... and yes, if you're keeping track, this is another list. Also, I try not to name names in my blog, but in this post, nicknames are necessary to keep the stories straight (in other words, none of my friends are actually named Pelliroja).

1. After-school Trip?
The first one that comes to mind is from high school, as I'm sure many of these will. Petite Pelliroja always felt her best when wearing the platforms and heels that were not only stylish but served to put her at eye-level with the rest of us (not to mention that she dated a very tall fellow). After school, we would always part ways, her heading to the parking lot and me heading to the locker room to change for cheerleading practice. I'll never forget the day she came into the locker room, a bit dishelved, to fetch me. In a tone of voice more gruff than she'd ever used (with me), she barked "Lindsay I need your help, can you come with me?" Bewildered, I followed Pelliroja out of the locker room and down the hallway. I practically had to jog to keep up with her since she was marching - even with a limp - at a record pace. It wasn't until we were outside that I was fully aware of the situation. Poor Pelliroja, hasty to leave school, had tripped on the curb in her 4 inch shoes and had apparently landed facedown on the concrete! The only thing sadder than her skinned knees and palms (and that I missed her big fall) was the mess of textbooks and notebooks that had been tossed 5 feet in each direction when she fell. We got her books and backpack in order and I helped her to her car, and we laughed about it the next day. When Pelliroja got married, we were all very nervous that history would repeat itself, since she was once again wearing supertall shoes, but luckily, it didn't.

2. O-Face
One high school weekend found me, little Pelliroja, and three guys in a Jeep at the Summit. Brent had what some would call today a "Tricked Out", "Pimped", or even redneck (sorry, Brent) Jeep. It had really big tires and huge headlights and a spotlight on the side. I guess we'd had enough fun at the Summit, so we were making our descent down the big hill to get onto 280 when fate postitioned us behind a rough looking van. Brent was the first one to notice the shadows moving indicatively in the backseat. Curious, he turned his spotlight on and shone it into the rearview window of the van. The image that my eyes beheld that evening is one that has forever been etched in my brain. Luckily, we couldn't see what was happening neck-down, but thanks to the look on the gentlemen's face, we didn't have to guess. It was the most cliche moment ever: they were getting it on in the backseat of a van! While other people squired them about town! Pathetic. We could see the back of what I HOPE was a female's head, and then perched on her shoulder, facing us, was the head of one happy man. In fact, he was overcome with happiness, if you know what I mean. Even though his eyes were shut, the glare of Brent's spotlight - and probably the volume of our laughter - was enough to bring him off of Cloud 9. He opened his eyes and when he saw he'd been caught, he started screaming at us. Brent kept the spotlight on him for another minute or two, until the light turned green and the van escaped into the traffic on 280. Nasty. Word from the wise: if you are skanky enough to get it on in a moving van while traveling within the Greater Birmingham Area, go someplace where that's acceptable... like Chelsea.

3. the Leak
It seemed like another typical day of my Senior Year. I had Government during the period before lunch, and the only good thing about that was that a lot of my friends were also in there, including Pelliroja and another good friend of ours whom I'll call Little Bit. We were chatting before class, waiting for Little Bit to get there. Little Bit was always slightly dramatic/stressed, but deservingly so since she took all honors classes. Therefore, Pelliroja and I didn't think anything of it when Little Bit raced into the room, all a flurry. However, her distress on this particular day had nothing to do with her classes, but rather with her new water bra. Little Bit came into the classroom hugging two or three books to chest. She put the books down, turned to face Pelliroja and I, and in the blink of an eye, the day jumped from a 5 to a 10. There, on Little Bit's chest, for all to see, was a 6 inch circle of water. If the dark circle of water wasn't noticeable enough on her red turtleneck, the fact that her chest was now lopsided let everyone in on the secret: Little Bit's water bra had sprung a leak! Luckily, she found a jacket to cover herself up with, but it was too late because the whole class had seen. She never lived that one down.

4. The Day the Sun Stood Still
Another seemingly normal day during Senior Year and I found myself at cheerleading practice. The girls and I had adopted the habit of starting off practice with some push-ups. Since I had to do them as part of my upcoming Junior Miss competition, they were all supportive and did a set every day with me. We were circled up, about to start the push-ups, when out of the building strutted our cheerleading "Coach". I'm using that word loosely here, and with quotes, because "Coach" is not really the word I would have used to describe Velda (you have to have seen Troop Beverly Hills to understand that nickname). Cheerleading Chaperone, Cheerleading Superivsor, Cheerleading Adviser, Rule-Enforcer, Grade Giver, Demotivator, Bus Driver, Key Keeper, or Nazi would have suited Velda much better than "Coach." To coach a squad or team, you generally have to understand, if not have previously participated in, the sport/activity. Not only had Velda never cheered, she didn't know (or care?) a thing about it. She would just make stuff up and say it was the rules. Velda had been the Cheerleading "Coach" for well over a decade by the time I became a Varsity Cheerleader, and I'm fairly certain she was only in it for the stipend that the extracurricular "Coaches" received. But I digress; perhaps Velda and the many other stories I could tell involving her and her wigs will comprise her own post one day. Anyway, Velda had a large closet attached to her classroom, where she would always change clothes. It should be noted that this closet was shared with the male biology teacher, to whom the classroom next to Velda's belonged. I am NOT SAYING that anything fishy EVER happened, just that there was only a bookshelf, which was partially see-through, separating the two halves of the closet and Velda changed clothes 4 days a week in there. This particular day, Velda must have been in a hurry, because when she came strutting out of the building to come "coach" us at practice, we saw that she had forgotten to zip her pants and her lower belly/gut was hanging out of the zipper opening. Combine this with\s the girdle or some pre-Spanx kind of tummy sucker that Velda was sporting, and what you have is an approximately 4 x 2" wedge of shiny, taut beige fabric protruding from her equally taut black polyester pants. She strolled up to practice and when all 12 of us cheerleaders laid eyes Velda, we simultaneously burst into laughter and/or tears. Since this story is funnier if accompanied with an image, I took time to paint the following likeness of Velda and her tummy:
Here we have Velda, shoulders down. Notice the navy blue blazer, platform shoes, and the lone button on the polyester pants. which is hanging on for dear life. Well, of course after seeing that, push-ups weren't a possibility. We were all laughing too hard to even breathe, let alone do ten push-ups. We tried, and things got even funnier, because our arms couldn't hold us up since all of our strength was channeled to our eyeballs to control them from looking at Velda again and risk having our corneas burned from the sight. Several of us just rolled over onto ours back and laughed for 3 of 4 straight minutes. Finally, one of the girls stood up and went to tell Velda about the oversight. She quickly zipped her pants and masked her humiliation by yelling at us to run some laps.

5. Absurd High School Dance Stories, volume 1
It was January of our sophomore year and all of the ladies found themselves in need of dates to the Valentine's Dance. One by one, all of our friends asked suitable young lads to escort them to the dance. The way things worked in BriarWorld was that you told just a few people who you were going to ask, who told a few more people and so on until the male in question practically had a SOLD sign hung around his neck. Few exceptions this rule were tolerated, but every year there were always girls who didn't care whom they pissed off, and defied the unwritten rule by asking a guy who was supposed to have been asked by someone else. Our sophomore year, I'm sure many girls would have loved to have taken Richy Rich to the dance, but my friends and I had staked Pelliroja's claim on him (with her blessing). He happily accepted said claim, because Pelliroja is beautiful and well-liked, so that left one minor task to accomplish: actually getting Pelliroja to ask him to the dance. They saw each other frequently since they were in the same group of friends. In fact they might have dated had Richy Rich's best friend not had a massive crush on Pelliroja (unfortunately for him, he had already been asked to the dance). Anyway, I think the dance was like 2 weeks away and Pelliroja still had not verbally asked Richy Rich. Again, everyone knew they would go together, thanks to the gossip mill that IS my high school, but techincally, words needed to come from her mouth to seal the deal. Tired of avoiding the situation, Pelliroja's friends - myself included - set up a plan with Richy Rich to get them alone so that she would HAVE to ask him. Richy Rich was planning to stand there and talk to her until she asked him, even if it meant he was late to basketball practice. Pelliroja was the only one unaware of our plan, but I think it became pretty clear to her what was going on when Little Bit and I shoved her into the stairwell and held the door shut. That left only one option for Pelliroja: go upstairs to the other door, where Richy Rich happened to be lurking alone in the lobby of the school. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in the lobby to have heard how awkward that conversation was, or how long it took for her to come out with it and ask him, but the important thing is that she DID. Pelliroja - you are welcome!

Monday, July 03, 2006


Okay I know listy isn't really a word, but I just felt like making some lists. It's one of my favorite things to do. So, since I have had ZERO visitors and my roommate has already had 6, I present:

The TOP 8 Reasons to Come Visit Me in Nashville

1. Christie Cookies - The best homemade cookies (besides my own, of course). The Snickerdoodle cookie could, I'm convinced, solve both world hunger and world peace.

2. Karaoke bars - Nobody does karaoke quite like the Music City. No ballads after nine!

3. Touristy stuff - I need a good excuse to take tours of the Stars' Homes, RCA Studio B, Ryman Auditorium and Grand Ol Opry. If you want to get in on any of those, let me know!

4. Titans game - I haven't been to one yet, seeing as how it's not football season yet, but I really want to go and I bet at least one of you does, too. And if NFL isn't your thing, we've got baseball (the Sounds), hockey (the Predators, but you'll attend that alone) and basketball sometimes (SEC playoffs/NBA playoffs are here some years).

5. Celebrities - I know where they park their cars when they meet to leave for tours and I also know where a few of them dine on a regular basis. And not just country stars, either. Whitney Houston was here last week. Come visit me and we'll go find them all.

6. Concerts - Odds are that your favorite musician is making a stop in Nashville on his/her tour. If I like them too, you could convince me to save my money, buy a ticket and go with you. Especially if it's at the Ryman.

7. Two words: Lower Broadway - I don't care if you like country music or not (it's a lot more fun if you do, though), you can't drive/walk down lower Broadway and see all of the lights and hear the music and not get excited. Home of the Stage, Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, Robert's Western World, the Ryman and Legends Corner!

8. People Watching - Feeling overweight? Think your hair is turning into a mullet? Not feeling very smart these days? Getting ragged about your accent? Come to Nashville and we'll go wherever it takes for you to feel better about yourself by observing some of the weirdest citizens this nation has to offer. I love my new city but MAN there are some rednecks to be found in this town. Opry Mills is like a watering hole for the tacky.

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