Little Red Corvette!
I'm a Chevrolet Corvette!
You're a classic - powerful, athletic, and competitive. You're all about winning the race and getting the job done. While you have a practical everyday side, you get wild when anyone pushes your pedal. You hate to lose, but you hardly ever do.
Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.
Yeah. This is totally me!! ;)
Dear God, Please Make It Go Away!!!
My schedule for the past month has been a little insane and it doesn't look like things are going to slow down until we hit the beginning of May. I sub for coed B volleyball on Monday nights and I play women's indoor soccer and Coed C volleyball on Tuesday nights, coed indoor soccer on Wednesday nights, women's indoor soccer and womens B league volleyball on Thursday nights and I usually hit up the volleyball open gym on Friday nights. Throw in weight lifting on Monday, Wednesday and Friday before games and you'll see that I've pretty much got something going every night of the week.
How does one cope with such a loaded schedule, and how did I allow myself to get talked into all these activities, you might ask. The answer is simple, my friends: large quantites of booze and chocolate, and I'm a sucker who just can't say no. That's right, if you come to me with some sob story about how you just need one more girl for your team and I'd really be helping you out and the whole team is so excited about playing but you're one chick short and if you don't get someone to play the entire team is going to fold, and I'll cave like Big Kev in front of the doughnut section at Safeway. (Or like Whitney in front of the crack house. Or like Shorty in front of the one-legged hooker on South Cushman.)
Since my life is so crazy busy, I really value my down-time, and one of the very few things that keeps me sane and brings a little joy into my life is House. I love that show. I obsess over it. I sob when it's over and wait with baited breath until the next week when I can slump my tired butt onto our comfy couch, curl up with Shorty and the cattens and lose myself for an hour in the rapier wit of Dr. House, Cameron, Foreman and the insanely hot accented Chase. (There are times when I'm stuck at a volleyball match or soccer game, so Shorty, valuing his life, will record House for me so I can watch it when I get home. Either he loves me unconditionally or he understands that I will go Tonya Harding on his ass if I miss an episode.) So you can imagine my crushing disappointment when I rushed home last night, sweaty, exhausted and sore from my soccer game, only to discover that, instead of House, American Idol is airing. Again. And again. And again. Over and over and over - AUGH!!! This show is like dirty, broken, cracked fingernails (damn, that was a good visual!) on a chalkboard to me. Seriously, if I wanted to hear some out-of-tune, big haired, half nekkid hootchie, who's managed to pour herself into an outfit that's clearly several sizes too small for an 8 year old, screeching an out-dated song that everyone wishes would just die, I'd tune in to Beyonce's latest remix. I hate this show. I detest this show. The worst type of torture imaginable would be to be duct taped to a chair and forced to watch re-runs of American Idol. Ryan Secrest is one of the biggest douches on the planet, and Paula Abdul is so overly-medicated that I'm amazed she can remember the names of her fellow judges. This show is a horrible waste of air time.
So, after several seconds of helplessly sobbing into my pillow, screaming my frustrations and a nice, calming round of puppy-kicking, I grabbed a book and a glass of red wine and headed to the hot tub, leaving Shorty in a Nyquil-induce fog, curled up on the loveseat with a fuzzy blankie and a spoiled boy cat, watching Flags of Our Fathers.
This is what my truck looks like at -48
Yeah, remember that post about how Fairbanks wasn't really that bad at -40? I take it back. I take it all back. It was between -38 and -48 every day last week and I don't wanna play anymore!
This is my poor baby truck sitting in my parking spot at -48. That was the temperature as I was driving to work last Friday.
Is summer here yet???.
Cookie for me, cookie for you!
I have a certain method, a way, if you will, of interpreting my fortune cookies. Some people like to add 'in a hot tub' or 'naked' to the end of their fortune and some prefer to read it as-is, leaving out any childish embellishments. Big Kev and I add the phrase 'in bed.'
Kev was craving Chinese food today, so after wolfing down some dumplings and pork fried rice, I tore open my fortune cookie and was granted this fortune:
'You will enjoy doing something different this coming weekend - in bed.'
So, in honor of my fortune, Big Kev has declared this Saturday to be Strap-On Saturday.
Remember, you heard it here first.
I Am A Fraud
I've lived in Alaska most of my life, simply because, it's home. I briefly lived in California and Washington, and while I liked both places and eventually plan to relocate to Washington to be closer to my family, I love Alaska, and I just keep coming back. There are warmer places to live than Fairbanks, but again, Fairbanks somehow became home, and I love living here. I also get tons of sympathy from friends and family outside of Fairbanks, and most are in awe of the fact that I manage to survive winters at temperatures of 40 degrees below zero - and colder. (I'm fairly certain this is an indication that they all think I'm a high maintenance little princess, which, obviously, is pretty accurate. But I'm a tough high maintenance little princess!) I sit back and eat up the sympathy, make up stories about my eyelashes freezing on my way from the truck to the office, terrify my mother with my ice fog experiences (I couldn't see three feet in front of my truck and I had to drive 20 miles an hour to work . . .) and make it seem like Fairbanks is a lot more hazardous and dangerous to live in than it actually is. They'll never know! They don't live here and rarely visit in the winter, so they don't know any better - and it's not like I'm doing anything too terribly bad. I lead my innocent, trusting family and friends to believe that I live under extreme duress where every day survived is a triumph and every roadside breakdown can result in the loss of toes and fingers to frost bite, and they in turn think that I'm overcoming amazing odds and tribulations, and I get lots and lots of respect, an impressive reputation, and, more importantly, I get waited on hand and foot when I come to visit. Works well for me.
I've managed for years to hose everyone quite well with this illusion, but all the free drinks, dinners, Prada and Gucci handbags and sympathy is starting to make me feel a little, well, dirty, so I've decided to come clean and admit that I am actually a total fraud. Yes, Fairbanks does see temperatures in excess of -40, and my eyelashes actually have frozen from the truck to the office, but it's really not as bad as I've been making it seem, and I have one inventive little gadget to thank for this: auto start. I love my auto start. Auto Start allows me to stay inside, sit on my butt, hit a button and jump into a nice, warm truck 20 minutes later. It might be -45 outside but it's 75 degrees inside my truck, and that's all that matters. Yeah, the run from the office to the truck, or from the truck to the gym is a little chilly, but it's three seconds of cold I have to endure and then I get to hop into a nice, warm, well-heated vehicle and cruise home. Wanna know a little secret? Sometimes I don't even wear a jacket. Oh, I always have one with me, but most of the time it's so warm in my truck that I get too hot in a jacket, so I just take it off. Then, when I get home, I pull into the garage and my truck has several hours to thaw out before we have to go back outside.
I'm very sorry for all the years of deception, but I'm sure everyone will agree that they feel much better knowing that I'm not constantly battling against the elements, having to rush outside, start my truck and run back inside - or, God forbid, that I have to drive home from the gym in an icy cold vehicle.
I'll admit, I was enjoying all the attention and gifts that were lavished on me, but I came to the realization that I was causing my friends and family a lot of worry, so I forced myself to bare my soul and come out with the truth. Because I'm considerate, caring and honest like that.
Just Thought I'd Spice Things Up
Since I'm absolutely horrible at returning emails in a timely fashion, and, as interesting as my life is to me, I do get a little tired of writing the same thing 10 different times to 10 different family members, and global emails are out of the question as I get snarled at when I send such 'impersonal correspondance,' I started this blog as a quick and easy way for my family and friends to keep tabs on me and see what I've been up to. I'm very aware that, at any second, my dear, sweet Nana Boo Boo Head could hop on the internet and hit up my blog for a quick fix on her favorite grandchild, so, with this in mind, I try to keep things clean, thus maintaining my image of sweet, innocent purity. Those of you who know me better probably realize how difficult this must be for me, so every once in a while I cave, and the real Lindsey busts out. For example, this seemed like a perfect time for a little . . . . CAT ON DOG PORN!!!!
Aaah. Much more gooder.
DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, PURCHASE THIS SWEATER!!
I know what you're thinking. It's cute, it's light-weight, it's flattering. Looks great with jeans, paired with a cami, easily dressed up for work with a few great accessories. Even the description is soothing: soft, cotton/angora blend. What it doesn't tell you is that it will leave fuzzies all over everything it comes in contact with!!!
This fact wasn't immediately apparent this morning when I put my cute gray sweater on over my cute dark lavendar cami. I slipped on a beaded lavendar, pink and purple necklace, checked my reflection and called it good. Shortly after arriving at work, I noticed that there were light gray fuzzies all over my office chair. Then there were light gray fuzzies on my pants, my desk and the floor around my desk. My cute cami is now covered in gray hairballs, I've been picking gray fuzzies out of my eyelashes for the past 7 hours, I feel like I've swallowed approximately half of the fuzzies that make up my sweater and I have to wipe my water bottle off before I take a drink because of the gray fuzzies that have accumulated all over it!!
This sweater is a menace!!! Do not get taken in by it's soft, fuzzy appearance and unwittingly decide that it would be a great light weight sweater to wear to the office! I don't want anyone to have to experiece what I've had to go through today. I'll be picking gray fuzzies out of my contacts for the next week . . . .
Help me, Obe Wan, you're my only hope!
Okay, you guys may not be as hot, as talented or as heroic as Obe Wan, (and I'm sure most of you are lacking the incredibly sexy accent) but you're all I've got to work with.
I have an existing ringtone on my cell for Shorty when he calls me, but it's not very imaginative. I was thinking about downloading the song 'Smack My Bitch Up' and using that as his ringtone, but I can't find it and I'm at a complete loss for other songs that would adequately express my love for my sweet, kind, wonderful boyfriend. I thought about 'White & Nerdy' and I haven't completely crossed that one out, but I thought I'd hit you guys up and ask if you have any good suggestions for what I could use as Shorty's ringtone.
No idea will be ridiculed or looked down on. The worst I could do is tell you you're a moron with pathetic tastes in ringtones. So, help - what do you think Shorty's ringtone should be?
Labels: ringtone, Shorty
