Hmph

Okay, so i lied. I am jealous...but not of your running opportunities and such......but of all the time your Mother gets to spend with you. :'(
Miss you.
Sincerely,
Little Miss Whiney-Pants

Lamentations

There are times when being sheltered from the craziness that is T.V. and the internet has its benefit.

How else would you find sensational stories about the fact that porn was found inside of Bin Laden's compound? Titles at various disreputable news agencies, like the New York Post and The Daily News, deliciously cry, "Osama Bin Wankin'!" with strategically placed inserts about, "Whakistan" and "The Porn Identity". 

I crave me a good laugh, like anyone else, but when these laughs come at the expense of a dead mass murderer, I begin to suspect that nothing is sacred or off limits in this world. 

So prepare to welcome the porn movie titles of "Weapons of Mass Seduction", "1000 Arabians in 1 Night", and "Talibuns". If they aren't already out there, they're coming. 

Well, not "coming", you know, but coming, in the sense that...oh, nevermind.

Speaking of running...

Do you think you would ever?

And one more thing...

Since we are on the subjects of all things British, I came across an interesting and completely inconsequential article that was thoroughly pointless and delightfully cheap. I, in no way, take any credit for the following comparisons, genius as they are. My only persuasive argument is that sometimes it's fun to be trashy.

Oh, look! It's my two favorite English ladies with their fabulous h-h-h-h-ats.

It's too bad they didn't try for a Little Mermaid wedding thing. I totally would have showed up like this:

Muah!

All things British

This week I have learned a lot about our British cousins across the pond.
In addition to their unexplainable obsession with headgear, I have found they are equally as fascinated with the opposite end of human anatomy: in short, the female "bum".
But there is one bum in particular with which they are enamored, that enthralls them, and sends them into spasms of delight. I know what you're thinking, and no - it's not J.K. Rowling.
Allow me to introduce you to Pippa Middleton, and her bum.

The picture illustrates what a devastating development this is, especially in light of the fact that she barely has one. What she does have is perky, though small, (and if I may add my two cents, rather flat).
Now, as an American, I can (though with no pride) appreciate the cheaper elements of any cultural phenomenon. But there's something so distinctly distasteful about this particular obsession, that when I heard they created the Pippa Middleton Ass Appreciation Society, I cringed.
Really, England? I had truly held out hope that somehow, in some small immeasurable way, you were better than us. I imagined there was more sophistication in your tiny left toe than the total amount of alcohol Snooki could consume in a weekend. With nicknames like the "Minxy Middleton" and T-shirts that read "I'd like to be in the Middleton of that!", I am convinced that if there were a line to be drawn around the future Queen of England's sister - you have most certainly crossed it.

                                           


Perhaps I have yet to truly sample all the glory that English bums have to offer.
Or perhaps, I'm more American than I know and I can't deny the fact that bigger means better.
I mean, who can't look at J.Lo's butt and, for better or for worse, think, "Whoa"?

There really is no comparison.
In the end, I am in no place to pass judgement, nor do I wish to appear superior to anyone else.
I suppose, were I the ripe age of 27, I might fancy a few 100,000 people "Liking" a Facebook page strictly devoted to my ass. We only live once, right?

Well, now that was tasteful.

Just for the sake of blogging

I, my friend, have nothing to blog about.
I suppose I could tell you on here how much I miss you.
I hope you've enjoyed your time with your family; maybe someday you all could gather on this coast. :)
I've been working like crazy but making enough tips to make it worth. I logged 46 hours last week, and this week I've put in 39 hours with still a full shift to go. Next week I'm on 6 days. Money, Money, Money.
I see Day-bid is off to Pensacola!!?!?! I didn't realize he was flying down there to interview with the Blue Angels. That would be absolutely AMAZING! Such an opportunity! I'll be keeping him in my thoughts.
I've had some nice success at the gym, seeing results. I've been sticking to a healthier diet of salads and proteins, lots of water, and, believe it or not, normal sleeping patterns. I don't get on the computer when I get home from work, I go straight to bed. I'm up every morning by 6:45am (7 am on days off) and in bed by 9:45-10:30pm at the latest. I weighed myself at the gym yesterday: 120lbs. I doubt its accuracy, but I'm still happy regardless. It is the continuation and maintaining of results that is going to be tricky because while 112 days seems like nothing 'til the wedding, 112 days is a long time to try to keep from gaining weight, at least for me.
Just under 13 weeks until I (am scheduled to) leave for London. I haven't turned in any paperwork for the visa clearance stuff yet. Still waiting on all pieces of info that they need before I turn it in.
I've gotta get the girls up to Rhea's and then head to work.
Never as clever, witty, or entertaining as your posts, but it is a post.
zozo
(it seemed fitting for a sign-off from Ze2NonBlondes) ;)

Cocklaphobia files

Over the last year, we have averaged four posts per month on our blog; all during a time of tremendous movement and activity: you were in the midst of finalizing a divorce, getting engaged, buying a home, taking trips outside of the country, working two jobs, and I was managing family life for our family of five as I drowned in school work in an effort to finish my Bachelor's degree. Then 2011 comes around and life seems simplified: you have finalized your divorce, settled into your home, quite your stressful day job, and have a group of fantastic people who have taken on the burden of planning (and paying for) your wedding, and I have been frolicking in my madness over the pure joy of being done with school.
So someone please explain to me why, then, is it May 2011, and we have yet to post once on this blog? (And breaking the New Year Cherry doesn't count.)

I am so baffled and concerned by this, that I have taken it upon myself to do the right thing and use this opportunity blog about something very important to me: the issue of the English hat.
I think you know how I feel about this regrettable cultural British phenomenon, and I have yet to see how anyone could possibly explain it to me enough to make sense.
The concept of high art as fashion is an acceptable one, if only it weren't for the fact that even old British women (including the Queen) wear ridiculous head paraphernalia.
(I think I just I called the Queen an old British woman. I hope this is not terribly insulting...to other old British women out there.)

And I acknowledge that my bafflement over this bizarrity may be falling on deaf ears. You have been known to have a peculiar fetish with head ornaments that occasionally push the boundaries of my tolerance. However, you are broke enough to not make it a habit of buying these items, for which I am grateful.

Coincidentally, you may or may not have seen that there was a little British wedding that happened last week. For days I was, and occasionally, continue to be, tormented by the photos of many of the guests.
Suddenly, I was hit with an overwhelming sense of panic as my mind flashed forward to the British wedding that we will be attending in August. I have the sudden urge to beg you to tell me that it isn't true - that the guests at your wedding won't be wearing anything that looks like the following:

 



And if you dare ridicule my phobia of British headgear (I refuse to call them hats), I challenge you with the following test:

From the following pictures, please select the "headgear" that was actually worn to a British public event:

A. 

B. 

C. 

D. 

E. 

 OR                                        F. All of the above.

If you have guessed F, you are correct. It would also be correct to be terrified by the natural state of the woman's face in picture E. (I believe her name is Princess Beatrice.) Do you think it's possible that she is related to our own American royalty, Lady Gaga?

It looks quite possible. 

Although, after seeing all of the photos above, I am convinced most anything is possible in England. 

Long story short: if you put a hat on me, I'll kill you.