"Well I'm gonna paint my front door red and change my name to Elizabeth Arden..."

We've all heard the phrase "That which does not kill us makes us stronger." These immortal words were penned by Robert Harling in his stage play Steel Magnolias, further immortalized when they were spoken by Dolly Parton in the 1989 film.  Great words to live by, no doubt about that but as of recent I have found that another phrase from Harling's Magnolias has been ringing true in my life.

"I'd rather have 30 seconds of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special"
Shelby's new philosophy on life, as delivered by the innocent and earnest Julia Roberts. I want to personally thank Robert Harling for this insight.  By now you're probably thinking "This is different, no sassy commentary?" Well no worries...... Here it comes

Robert, darling that message is wonderful, but damn near IMPOSSIBLE to truly live by.  Especially for us thinkers out there, and OH am I a thinker. I can't help but think past that 30 seconds to wonder what comes next. Do you really expect us to just throw it all in and then pick ourselves up later when it's over? 30 seconds? The average time it takes to clean a mirror? That's it? That little moment in time is worth everything? Well it all sounds great in theory but in practice not so much. Like mathematical proofs, rarely working when it's put into practice because certain variable are impossible to maintain.

Well Harling, I'll tell you what I'm going to do.... I'm going to thumb my nose in your direction and then give it a go.

I can't believe it, but I've finally met someone who is worth all of the risk. But let me just say that fighting your own brain is not a battle easily won. So if you want to join the crusade BE READY.  Get ready to go through an emotional pattern commonly seen in a pregnant woman. Wanting to cry simply because it's almost too wonderful, becoming a cuddle-bug of EPIC proportions, feeling the need to blog about your new life mission and feelings on the matter, and impractical food cravings. (The last one might be just me BUT.... I included it anyway)

As cheesy as it sounds I'm kind of seeing life in a new way. Forcing yourself to sit back and take life as it comes is a great skill to have and when you have it time only seems to rush by when you look back at all of the wonderful times you have had.

So if you think you're up for the challenge give the ladies who make up the Magnolias a wink, take a deep breath, close your eyes, and leap.

Thank you Robert, Dolly, and Julia for the words, now it's time to solve that proof. So if you're with me, take that deep breath and join me on the front lines.

                                                                Let the battle begin.

Premonition: It's not just a Sandra Bullock heart-stopper anymore...

I'm still speechless...

In a span of 72 hours  I saw the movie Baby Blues (a horror/thriller about a mom going crazy due to postpartum depression) and watched the Disney classic Bambi. Now these are two events that seem relatively removed from one another.... I thought so too.

WE WERE WRONG.

On the third day on my way back to Illinois it all came to a head.  A doe decided to launch herself at my car as I was traveling down the highway at 70 mph.

No I didn't hit her, she literally jumped from the ditch at my car and then was knocked back into the ditch. She hit me and she meant it.

I then realized what was happening. My two previous evenings were colliding. She was a postpartum doe on the verge, but instead of killing her kids like the woman does in Baby Blues decided to take her own life, fulfilling the Bambi motif.

And then I got to thinking.... You know we never actually see Bambi's mom get shot. We never see her fall, or even the hunters who supposedly kill her.  We only see Bambi running and hear a gunshot.  What  if this whole time we've been under a false illusion that Bambi's mom was murdered?  I mean this postpartum doe can't be the first right?

It makes sense.  Not only was she a mom, but can you imagine the pressure of being the mother of the Young Prince of the forest? Especially with absolutely no support from the paternal side.  That's a lot. Having to be the Great Prince of the Forest's babymama and to have no help? Girl please.  Bambi's mom killed herself, there's no way around it.

Maybe I'm just seeing an unlikely coincidence, maybe I'm loopy from the $4,000 repair estimate. But it's possible.   Think about it.

Peer Pressure is a Real Thing...

I did it.
Oh my God.... I did it.
I got a Twitter.
It was not something that I ever intended on doing, in fact I swore to myself that getting a Twitter was not an option. Ever. Well apparently I didn't realize how much peer pressure builds up when you go on an audition tour with people who treat Twitter like a nicotine addiction or who suffer from an extreme case of Twitterrhea.  Have you ever told someone no and then had to sleep between them 5 minutes later? Yep. Looking at you like two year olds who are trying to gain access to the cookie jar before dinner, puppy-dog eyes glistening, waiting for you to say "FINE...."Well it's hard stuff people!  So, I have fallen.  And the worst part is this blog has suffered. HOWEVER, I'm going to get back on the train pistols blazing. Until next time, Pink eye is the stink eye.

My Goodies, My Goodies, My Goodies Not my goodies!

Listen Ladies, we need to talk.  I think you're going to want to sit down for this... No literally sit.  I want to talk with you about the Fanny Floss Faux Pa that has seem to crop up more and more lately.  Let's just two things straight first.  1) Thongs are not actual underwear (and not nearly as cute as boy shorts) and 2) LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS.  So what does this mean? It means that it is NEVER OK to wear a thong under a dress, especially when walking up stairs and contrary to popular belief ladies leggings are not the answer to everything.  Every fabric, when stretched far enough becomes shear at some point.  So, if you've got some junk in the trunk it's probably not the best idea to let those goodies hang out with the fanny floss.  Honestly, I don't understand the purpose of thongs, they are a neglige NOT an undergarment.  I get the whole idea of making the dreaded panty line vanish, but couldn't we have come up with something a little more practical? A Piece of string that holds nothing but a small piece of cloth over your lady parts? Really? That's it?  What about your other naughty bits? Like your ass cheeks. Could we not find a suitable undergarment that would create a smooth line without letting your cheeks trip the light fantastic around behind you.  I am ashamed Fashion Industry. Ashamed.

As for leggings ladies, if you put a veil over someone's face you can still see the general shape of that face.  Butt cheeks don't (hopefully) have lots of ravines, bumps, and curves you will find in a face but rather a smooth rounded surface.  So seeing overall shape is not difficult, because they are two of the same shape side by side!  Also ladies, be honest about your caboose size, if you've got two Boohbahs fighting around back there THONGS SHOULD NOT BE AN OPTION.  EVER.

So please, spare us.... No one wants your ham hocks staring them in the face.  Have you ever tried to finish a meal after being face to face with Mt. Gluteus? Ya, no thanks.  Spare us the lady humps and keep goodies in the candy shoppe.  That's all.

They're Here....

Ok so I've recently come to a new conclusion. Have you ever discovered that the second you need something it isn't there? And I mean, LITERALLY is not in the spot where it has been the last thousand times you've seen it? Well, that's my life.  And friends have suggested that the culprit might be the ghost that lives in our house and I said" Naw... I don't think so, A) The paranormal and I have a very pleasant relationship and B) This started happening to me a long time before I moved into this house" And then I had an epiphany, "Wait...I figured it out, it all makes sense now... there's a poltergeist living in my tote bag."  Now before you write me off think about it. It makes sense, things move to places you SWEAR you have not been.  Where things end up just doesn't make sense.  This phenomenon seems to follow me wherever I go and what else follows me every I go? My tote bag.  So I'm currently in the market for two things to test this theory: 1) A little girl to stare at my tote and tell me if there's anything in there and 2) If there is, a frumpy midget woman with coke bottle glasses to rid me of the phantom and assure me "This bag is cleeya" So if anyone knows where I can find a psychic four year old and a midget medium in a denim skirt LET ME KNOW.  I keep my life in that bag and I need my life to not stack chairs in creepy cheerleading-style pyramids and I really don't have time to spend worrying that I'm going to get sucked into a TV.
Well there it is, my first random musing and I think I'll keep it up, just like I'm going to keep trying to rid my life of the Tote Bag Poltergeist.

The start to an interesting adventure

So, I've finally jumped on the blogging craze... Well, not so much jumped on but rather hitched a ride in order to evade Twitter, which I have sworn I will never partake in. So, here it goes! This first post will really be just a kind of expository one for me.  I love to live, I LOVE to people watch, and I LOVE to muse about what I find.  So get ready because here they come!