DO NOT RUB FOR GOOD LUCK

I haven't really mentioned but LT. and I have both had brain malfunctions this week which both resulted in great pains in our asses.

I'll start with mine.

So I left my debit card at a restaurant across town last month and have yet to go pick it up. Yesterday I finally decided it would be easier to request a new card. Cause instead of driving for 10 minutes I'd rather have it delivered to my doorstep in 3 days for an expedited fee of $8. Don't judge me.

As I was online filling out the request, I remembered that LT. has been needing a new debit card too. Ever since Winnie got his wallet a couple of months ago and chewed up most of its contents the bite-holes have made his card barely functional. So I thought to myself, I'll do a nice wifely turn and order him a new debit card too!

I was so proud of myself for being such a sweet wife. But only for about two minutes, because pretty shortly after I submitted the request I realized I had cancelled LT.'s only source of cash. And he's out of town. For another week.

Of course I panicked and called the bank only to be told that the cancellation was automatic and there wasn't anything they could do. 

"You probably want to call and let him know as soon as possible!" Bank lady suggests sweetly.

Thank you, bank lady. I would totally do that except LT. washed his phone in the laundry last week and it's completely dead now. You see my problem. Also you now know LT.'s brain malfunction.

So poor LT is out in the boonies, completely unaware that he's poor, and I have no way to get in touch with him. I spent the rest of my day stewing, wondering under what circumstance my unsuspecting husband would realize he was screwed.

I found out this morning when he finally called me.

LT: "Hey. We have a problem."

Me: "I think I already know what this is about."

LT: "Well, you don't have a problem. I have a problem."

Me: "Yeah...I'm pretty sure I know what it is."

LT: "I have no money."

ME: "I know...[insert rambling explanation about how I was only trying to be a good wife] and, Baby, I'm really, really sorry!"

Actually LT. was pretty cool about it. He has this odd way of not freaking out over things that are completely freak-worthy. Apparently our bank can wire him money, which would have been nice to know yesterday.

Anyways he should be getting a replacement phone today too, and thank GOD for it. Not being able to talk to him for extended periods of time takes me back to when he was at basic training. Worst ever.

And that is the story of how LT's and my brain malfunctions collided into one super malfunction. But it's all good. We're all good.

Much love to ya,

My New Favorite Thing

So lately I've been pretty tired, especially in the afternoons when I've been up since 6am. Over the last couple of weeks I've come to discover something about myself.

Apparently I value sleep over food. Well, not really. 

But I've discovered an equally valuable use of my lunch break:

Car-naps. They are seriously the best thing ever and I don't know why I never did it before! 

Around 11am I head out to Lola and drive across the parking lot to park under the furthest tree with shade. Then I recline my seat all the way back, kick off my shoes, and drift off into deep REM (like the sleep cycle, not the band) for a solid 50 minutes. But not before setting my "Lunchtime nap" alarm on my phone for 11:55am.  

It. Is. Glorious. I wake up from my car-nap feeling refreshed and ready to take on the second half of my day. I'm considering keeping a pillow and blanket in the back seat to make my car-nap experience even more enjoyable.

If you've never tried this I highly encourage you to take up the practice. Just remember, distance is key. Nothing would ruin your refreshing car-nap better than waking up to one of your concerned co-workers peering through your driver-side window, trying to decide if you're dead or not. 

Not that that happened or anything.

So anyways, you should like, totally go take a car-nap.

Much love to ya,

Well, I'll be Damned!

I try not to complain about my job too much. I mean, if you asked me if I went through 5 years of college with the ultimate goal of ending up as a receptionist, well, you tell ME what you think the answer is.

Truth be told, it's not so bad. I have a great boss and get paid well for such a low-stress job. It's a casual environment and the people I work with are all pretty cool for the most part. It helps pay the bills and generally I feel pretty blessed. I mean, I sit here and blog half the day.

But let's be honest. If you're in any sort of admin position you know how thankless it can be at times. I don't think people realize that admin work is more than just answering phones. My main job function is to help keep the office running and make everyone's lives easier, but often times I feel like I may as well be invisible.

Some days it gets pretty discouraging. And while I do receive the occasional "thanks, Linds!" which is better than nothing, would an actual gesture that required actual effort be too much to ask? The most effort I ever got was when someone brought bagels on "Administrative Assistant Day." I didn't even know there was such a thing. And that was two years ago!

Then yesterday my faith in humanity was restored.

Since last week's fiasco I've been wondering, did important corporate lady make her flight? Well I got my answer in a super surprising way:

Aside from the fact the flower-shop employee who took this particular transcript has absolutely no pride in their job apparently, I totally got the idea. Also, she sent me these:

At first when the delivery guy showed up and said they were for me I got all over-emotional and teary because hormones I thought they were from LT. He's been gone a couple of weeks and also broke his phone so we haven't been able to chat. I thought he was sending me flowers to communicate his love to me from afar. Turns out that wasn't the case.

But they still pretty much made my day!

Now don't get me wrong, it's not like I expect something in return when I do nice things for people. But it's really great to know that a big-shot Exec from London takes the time to think about the little people, ahem, moi.

Much love to ya,

Miley, What the hell?

Ok, to be straight up, I didn't actually get to watch the VMAS last night because our stupid new cable package doesn't include that channel. Plus I was just so wiped I don't think I could have stayed up for it anyway.

But I wake up this morning and the Kidd Kraddick show was doing a recap. They were going on and on about how "shocking" and "obscene" Miley Cyrus's performance was and of course I was intrigued but not really surprised.

I haven't even seen her little number yet (I'm almost scared to) but I know it involves much twerking and giant teddy bears. To which I ask you, what the hell?

But nothing prepared me for the glee I would experience when I saw this glorious picture:

Y'all. I'm dying. It literally looks like they just witnessed an actual train wreck. The shock. The confusion. The whore HORROR. The one dude on the far right can't even bare to watch. I don't even think I need to see the actual performance. The looks on their faces say it all to me.

Also, Willow pretty much looks exactly like Will circa Fresh Prince in that shot.

Amma' right?

Anyways let's forget about dancing with Molly Miley and move on to the fact that THIS HAPPENED:

I was more of a BSB girl myself but even I admit this was pretty damn cool. So the rumors were true. Those sneaky bastards.

I'm already daydreaming about the 3-day weekend coming up. Anyone else?

Much love to ya,

The Day that Took the Cake

Y'all, I've had my share of legit awkward moments between my time in customer service and being a receptionist. 

Like the time I accidentally told a customer "I love you" as they were leaving the salon instead of "Have a nice day!"

Or the time a man asked me "Do you solicit?" when I worked the overnight concierge shift at a high-rise apartment in Uptown Dallas.

The thing is, at least those instances were kind of funny. Yesterday was just straight up uncomfortable.

The president of the company had e-mailed me earlier in the day to make sure a cab would be at the office at 2:45pm to take an important corporate lady to DFW Airport. I made the call, the cab people confirmed our address and said somebody would be there, and wham-bam. Easy as pie. Or so I thought.

So there I am, doing nothing my receptionist thing. The day had been going pretty okay so far and it was almost over. 2:40pm rolls around and I say goodbye to the corporate lady.

3pm rolls around and Corporate lady is standing in front of my desk again wondering where the cab is. And I'm all

So I call the cab people AGAIN and they say someone is on their way.

3:20pm. Corporate lady calls my desk because STILL no cab. Her freakin' international flight to London is at 4:45pm. I knew what I had to do, but it wasn't going to be pretty.

So I haul ass down 3 flights of stairs to Lola (my Corolla). I haven't cleaned her out in months. There are various crumbs. There are fast food straw wrappers. There are a couple of pairs of shoes and a set of 5 lb weights. And traces of baking soda in my carpet from when I spilled 2 grande pumpkin spice lattes last fall and was trying to deodorize the smell of sour milk. In one word, disgusting. Also, she's missing two hubcaps.

Behold, the grodiest product placement of all time.

But I had no other choice. So I peel around front and she jumps in my car and now I'm heading 70ish towards DFW Airport. And all the while I'm trying to make small talk and I'm apologizing and praying she doesn't notice the sour milk smell. And of course ALL the cops are out on 635.

Thankfully the airport is only 10 minutes away from my work but of course I had to miss the exit for D terminal. And surprisingly corporate lady was being pretty chill about it, even though her flight was leaving in less than an hour.

I pull in to D Terminal and she has her door open before I even come to a full stop. I was half expecting a tuck-and-roll scenario but no such luck. Obviously she wasn't in the mood for farewell pleasantries so my goodbye went something like

As I left the airport I had this really odd mix of emotions. Like triumphant and mortified. But mostly mortified. 

I suppose I really need to take a little more vehicular pride. Cause you just never know when you'll need to drive a head-honcho to the airport.

Oh well.

Much love to ya,

"A Couple" means TWO!!!

One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone refers to more than 2 things as "a couple." C'mon people, isn't this common knowledge? Let's have a quick lesson:

Here are a couple of beers.

Anything more than two would be considered at the least, a few.

A few beers.

Or even several.

Several beers.

But problems arise when you start throwing around "a couple" all willy-nilly. LT. is guilty of this offense pretty frequently. 

Take our discussion about how long he was going to be gone with his unit. He told me "a couple of weeks." Imagine my dismay when I looked at my calendar this morning and realized the dates aren't adding up. Even though he's been gone almost week, it will still be A COUPLE OF WEEKS before he's back. Well, minus one day. So I'm rounding up, big deal. The principle is totally the same.

My point being that the use of "a couple" in this instance set me up for a humongo let down. Here I was thinking we were half-way through. I've been feeling under the weather and overwhelmed but it's ok, he'll be home in a week! Except, not. 

I'm sorry.

There's just been a lot going on in life and I feel pretty overwhelmed with it all. It's amazing how much you take people for granted until they aren't around, even if it's just for a short time. Despite my "independent woman" act I put on, I really need him.

Thank God for my sweet Mom who has popped in and out this week to check on Winnie in the afternoons. I even came home to a clean kitchen a couple of days ago. I seriously don't know what I'd do without her. I love you, Mom.

And I love you too, LT. I know you didn't mean to mislead me even though you KNOW how seriously I take "a couple". And I know I just need to shut my pie hole and be thankful that you put up with a woman as anal as myself. I just really miss ya is all...

Well, I'm exhausted from this rant. I think I'll go take a nap in my car now!

Much love to ya,

Tall Tails: Tough Love for Winnie

First off I just want to apologize for not staying on top of this little bloggy space of mine. The truth is y'all, I've felt like crap the last few days. The best way I can describe it is a hangover 24/7--only I haven't been drinking! What a rip-off.

I even took a nap in my car during my lunch break yesterday.

Needless to say my free time has been spent on the couch either sleeping or watching TV. Also LT. Hubs is gone for the next two weeks with his unit. He's only been gone a couple of days but it feels like a lot longer and the worst is being sick when you're all by yourself. I miss having someone to whine at and give me hugs even though I'm being overly dramatic. Cause that's what husbands are for right? We'll go with that.

Anyways on to Tall Tails with Adriana and Katie!

As you know we moved into our new house a few weeks ago, and it's been a huge adjustment, especially for Winnie. I naively assumed that once we had a yard she would be automatically inclined to do her biz in it. I mean she's out there most of the time anyway. Uhmmm, not suh much.

As it turns out she'd rather go ALL OVER THE DAMN HOUSE. My once mostly potty-trained pup suddenly has no bladder control whatsoever. Not only that, but we have powder blue carpet from 1984 so wherever she goes leaves ugly green splotches, no matter how hard I scrub. And the splotches are EVERYWHERE. 

So we've basically decided that we're going to have to start from square one and re-potty train which is beyond frustrating. Here's the problem: I suck at disciplining her. I mean, look at her.

I know you love me even if I'm a huge pain in the ass, Mommy.

We've let her have the run of the house up until this point, which obviously was the worst idea ever. It basically became a pee-for-all. But at the apartment she knew to go to her potty pad at the back door if we weren't home to take her out. We thought she'd put two and two together eventually. Clearly she hasn't made that connection yet.

So I've gone back to gating her in the kitchen during the day, like when we first got her. I really hate leaving her all penned up like that for hours and hours by herself. We don't have the doggy door yet so she can't even go outside to chase squirrels. She has her bed and her toys, but it just seems so lonely and makes me feel like a bad mom.

I even leave the radio on for her so it's not like total solitary confinement.

Am I being over dramatic? How do you feel about leaving your furbaby home alone all day?

Much love to ya,

That Time I Flashed the Student Union

Hello Friends,

I'm sorry I didn't get around to posting yesterday. There wasn't a good reason, I just really couldn't come up with anything that wasn't utterly boring or stupid.

So anyways this morning I had to get blood work done. And every time I encounter a needle it triggers what is probably the most embarrassing memory of my life.

Let me take you back to my freshman year of college. About 15 pounds ago, around when I could still fit my butt into a short skirt. 

I don't remember what was happening here, but it was some sort of antics Freshman year.

So there I am, scamping around campus like I'm hot stuff in muh mini skirt, when I see a sign for a blood drive in the student union. I think to myself, what the hell? I'll do something good for mankind today. And off I go.

I'd given blood before, no big deal. I waited my turn and hopped into that chair like I owned the damn place. They stick me and still I'm cool as a cucumber. In fact I'm chuckling condescendingly on the inside at all the other people around me who look so nervous. Wimps.

A few minutes later they've stocked up on my B- and patch me up. I get up to go and suddenly---

the ceiling. What the hell...?

I'm lying on the ground with my feet propped up on a cooler. An XXX Large shirt with the name of the blood blank on it is draped over me so I don't continue to flash the student union. It only took me a sec to figure out what happened.

And all the people waiting in line for their turn are like

And the phlebotomists are looking at each other like

I got up and hobbled over to where the juice and cookies were. Apparently I hadn't eaten enough to accomplish this particular act of philanthropy without epic failure. But hey at least they got their blood. I finished my cookie and got the hell outtie as fast as my wobbly legs could go.

This morning wasn't as dramatic thanks to the ninja skills of my nurse and the egg and sausage croissant I had before my appointment. 

So the moral of the story is that mini-skirts are not appropriate attire for blood donation. 

Much love to ya,

A Disgrace to all Womandom.

I have a confession to make. I'm almost scared to say it, but the first step is admitting you have a problem, right?

Here it goes.

I hate shopping.

There. I said it.

I don't want to be this way. I know I'm betraying my entire gender. It's just not natural.

Perhaps it's because I'm a super-minimalist. Or that I hate spending money. Or really that I just have no idea what I'm doing. It makes shopping pretty challenging when you have no sense of style whatsoever. My fashion expertise is...lacking.

Usually what ends up happening is I'll buy something, see myself wearing it in pictures later and then wonder what the hell I was thinking. A recent picture I was tagged in at a wedding nearly drove me to tears. That's what I looked like all evening? The worst part of it was I felt like hot stuff that night. I was completely mortified.

It was damn near soul-crushing, y'all.  

Half the time I see people looking super adorable and I'm completely baffled as to how they even thought to put that outfit together. It's maddening. How do you do it? 

HOW DO YOU DO IT?!

For a most women, shopping is fun, even therapeutic. For me, it's just depressing.

But I'm tired of wearing the same thing over and over, every week. It's like a uniform. My clothes (the ones that still fit) are looking shabby and usually I just feel like a frump and a half. 

So after work I'm going to go try and find some decent clothes. I'm not really looking forward to it but something has to be done about my sad little wardrobe. Plus Winnie has eaten most of my shoes.

I'm sure most of you enjoy shopping. Any advice for fashion-challenged me?

Much love to ya,

Tall Tails: Winnie's Posh Life

Well, hey there, strangers.

Sorry I was MIA yesterday. It was my least fave time of the month, the due date for all the VP's AMEX reports, which I do for them. Of course, I can't actually do anything until I have all the receipts. And, of course, they waited to give them to me until 2 days before the reports are due. 

Let me just take this moment to say, if you're a VP or an exec of some sort, please take hot second to think of the little people. We know you're more important than us, and we're happy to help you. I mean, that's our job after all. But sometimes you make it hard. Very. Hard.

But I digress. On to Tall Tails with Adriana and Katie! I present to you: 

3 Ways my Dog is probably more spoiled than your dog:

1) When we first brought her home, I purchased a Bun Bed, which is a dog bed specifically designed for dachshunds.

2) I just bought Doggy Steps for her to jump on our bed whenever she pleases.

They should be here any day now.

3) Toys. So many toys.

She literally has her own toy box.

And those are only 3 of the ways. How do you spoil your furbaby?

LINK IT UP!!

Rebuilding My Temple- #9- Oh wait, She's still doing this?

Yes, yes I am. Just when you thought I was over there- 

BAM

-I'm way over here.

So obviously I took a little break from RMT. Quite frankly there's not a good excuse. We got busy, I got lazy. Yadda yadda.

After two weeks of eating out and zero exercise, it's finally time for me to hop back on the hot tamale train- wooo wooo!

Here's the plan:

Phase one: my grocery trip last night. I did not buy ANY dairy or bread for the first time ever in my life. Seriously,y'all, this is a huge deal. Those are my two favorite foods, especially cheese. But it's time to take drastic measures, and I figured if they aren't in my house at all, I won't be tempted.

Not today, creepy grilled-cheese child, not today.

Phase two: My glorious return to the gym on Monday. Why wait until Monday? I decided to take the weekend to concentrate only on unpacking the house. Also Mondays, while sucky, are the legitimate beginning of the week. So being the borderline-OCD person I am, it was only logical to start fresh from the beginning.

Just pretend that made sense to you.

I'm having a botch of a time concentrating this morning and so think I need to put this post out of its misery. 

Here's a random clip from my favorite movie 500 Days of Summer. It makes me smile every. single. time. Hall and Oates + Joseph Gordon-Levitt = You're welcome.

Much love to ya,

I'M GOING BALD.

Ok, that may be a slight exaggeration. 

But I have been "shedding" a bit more lately, I just didn't realize how noticeable it was until last night. Here's how it went down.

The Scene: LT. Hubs and I, peacefully lounging together before he had to leave for his shift.

LT.: Are you losing your hair?

Me: [stunned silence]...what--am I--DO I HAVE A BALD PATCH OR SOMETHING?

LT: [Laughing] Noooo! I said that too bluntly.

Me: Uhmmm, yeah. You can't just ask your wife if she's losing her hair! But seriously, why did you ask me that? 

LT: I'm just finding a lot of hair everywhere, in the tub, in the sink.

Me: Sorry. More than usual?

LT: Well, you do shed. But I still think you need to relax.

End Scene

Anywho, LT's suggestion for me to relax, while sweet, also struck me as ironic, because I've been a total lazy ass this entire week. I have accomplished nothing but this:

And this:

Literally, I have not wanted to do a damn thing. Maybe it's me feeling overwhelmed from the move. Or possibly because I haven't been sleeping well (Winnie has woken me up around 2am every night since we've been in the house).

Whatever the case, I have pretty fine hair as it is and I can't really afford to be losing it, whether it's stress-related or not. 

Has anyone else had this problem before? Any recommendations for a product I could try to strengthen my straggly strands??

Much love to ya,