Both Brit and Ali went brunette tonight, but Brit left before I thought to take a pic. Brit colored and cut Ali's hair. 

The big spot at the top of Lance's nose was caused by a headbutt more than a month ago. He keeps reopening it in practice and during matches. He beat the kid when he originally headbutted him and then pinned him last night. After the pin, the kid called Lance a Mother F@#%*! (while he was still on his back). Lance, who rarely shows emotion on the mat, kind of got in the kids face while smiling and nodding his head. Could of had a picture of it, but Brit took a picture of her feet instead... 

Cute shoes, Brit. I was looking for some wrestling shots though... 

Are yew lieke sereeus? Iike oh.em.gee.!

If I wrote like the person in the excerpt below I would throw myself into my Mom's ex-office and sit next to the guy that told me I had a Bambi butt for punishment.

"i went to school normall day took my orchestra
midyear and my math test i think i did good and i got science back i got a 84!
and in english we had mr.rosenthal for sub yeah it was pretti fun! then after
school i chilled with silky brett kate and whoever else and we watched the girls
and boys games and then i went home got readi and shauna picked me and john up
and we went to the dance- which completely sucked but w.e then after i went to
shaunas and sleptover and we watched dawn of the dead until like 2 am and then
went to bed - yeah pretti boring day i no- write tomorrow huggs and
kisses"

People, people, people. If you can't write--don't. Please. If you aren't good at writing then you are probably good at math, so do that instead.

Well, look who it is!

Yeah. I know. I haven't posted in a while. My only excuse is that my internet wasn't working. I guess you kind of need the internet to make a post, right?

I had a pretty good weekend if that counts for anything. I went to another warehouse party on Friday. Before I went to that, I went to Norman to hang out with my friend Kaylie. I met Kejuan Jones and Rufus. If you love OU you know who they are. They were funny. They got mad though because I didn't want to flirt with them back. I'm sorry, but when you talk like this,
"Hey you gerl, what yo name is? Where you be from?"
I will most likely walk away from you with a snarl upon my face. No offence to you, it's just that I find myself having to think harder than I do in a regular conversation. I have to re-figure and re-word the sentence you just said in my head to actually understand it. Is that bad?

The warehouse was fun. I met up with a boy that I thought I liked named Jonathan, but I changed my mind later that night. He was really sweet, but he kept asking if I thought we made a cute couple, and I got weirded out. What do you say to that?

"Yes. I think we make a cute couple because our skin tones compliment each other."
Am I trying to win Miss America? No. I am just trying to DATE YOU.

I wanted to say, "Dude, it's not like you are a pair of shoes that I am trying to match to a red silk cami!"

Gah, idiot!

After the warehouse a huge group of us crashed an Edmond party. It wasn't really a party until we arrived. I guess when you bring 10 girls and 3 boys to a party people tend like you. That's only because at most parties here you get 3 guys to every girl. Fun for us, lame for them. The sausage party really liked that we came with lots of girls.

Needless to say, after the party we were all a little "tired."

It was my idea to have everyone follow me to my grandma's house, because I knew that Mema wouldn't be mean to the inebriated ones. I didn't want my cute guy friends to drive home on a full tummy of liquor and beer. I think one of them even did beer before liquor (not good).

So we arrive at Mema's house. One boy goes up stairs and promptly takes of his jeans and falls on a bed. I get him up and tell him that he has to stay downstairs. He picked up his pants and walked down the stairs and passed out on the floor in the "formal living room." I stayed in the T.V. room with the other two boys who weren't as drunk as the first, and we made fun of him. Mema soon found us to be home. She yelled my name and got on to me until I had a chance to tell her what was going on. She finally understood and quit getting on to me. But did she go back to bed? No. She kept finding reasons to come down stairs and embarrass me in front of all that was there.

When she got me alone again, she told me that it smelled like "drink."

I came back with, "Of course it smells like drink! That is why we're here. I want them to stop being drunk so they can drive and not die!"

She went into the kitchen and made coffee with her new coffee maker. It's really loud. It sounded like she was grinding stone in there, but it was only the coffee beans.

Papa soon came downstairs to join the party. That was fun. They both sat in their large chairs, drank their coffee, and looked at us. I really couldn't define the look they were giving. The first guy found his way to where we were and charmed Mema with his drunken conversation. She didn't really seem to mind all that much. They left at about 6:30 a.m.


To my dismay, Mema actually thanked me for feeling as comfortable as I do here at Hotel Grandparents. I guess she liked that I had the nerve to bring drunk people home to sober up.

Thank you mema.

Love,

Brittany, Lauren, Lauren, Kelsi, Kari, Vera, Grace, Lisa, Tim, Brian, Jonathan, and one random one that left before I got his name

aka Mema's Party 2005

See, we really do speak the truth

I received this e-mail from Tona this morning. She amuses the hell out of me, and I figure the other three people who read this site might be amused as well. Tona may not be so amused to keep seeing her e-mails pop-up on the blog...

Says Tona:
I answered the phone, and the first words out of the guy’s mouth were
“I’m a priest from North Carolina.”
I guess he realized that that was a weird way to start a conversation
(although I was glad to know bc then I knew not to swear).
He then said “I guess that doesn’t matter much to you.”, so I said
(this is the funny part – you may have to read out loud to yourself to get the full effect.)
“That’s okay, I’m a recovering fundamentalist Christian from Oklahoma.”
He laughed and said that he guessed he had come to the right place.

Remind me to tell you what Joy said about the perverse judge from a certain county. It involves Luminal! Yuck!

Now Accepting Applications

I can’t sleep. Again. It may be because it is almost 2am, but I am starting to feel this whole cult leader thing. I couldn’t ask for better timing. I am currently out of work, and I think “cult leader” could really round out my resume. I’ve done the entrepreneurial thing before, and I found that my biggest downfall was marketing. Maybe that is where you come in, Tona. I know you have publications experience. You could definitely be editor of the cult newspaper. Come up with some snazzy advertisements, will you? Maybe you should use some subliminal messages; in-your-face cult advertising might scare people off. Screw your work deadlines. I guess that kind of attitude might be part of the reason I am unemployed.

If you wish to get in on the ground floor of our (yet to be named) cult send us your resume or post your qualifications here.

Follow the Stars

Tona, who sends me my horoscope almost daily, sent me this e-mail this morning:

Scorpio - October 23 - November 20
Scorpios are often very afraid of solitude, dear Scorpio. That explains why they are always trying to surround themselves with people, or be a part of a family or a team. Today's planetary alignment promotes the energy where human beings are less separated from each other, but even more free. It is about self-less love and the ability to let go. You will enjoy the atmosphere around you, because you will see the advantages of this approach more clearly.

Sagittarius - November 21 - December 20
Today is a day for freethinkers, dear Sagittarius. You may feel inclined to talk about religion or about the nature of your faith, whatever it may be. You may even encounter many people with different beliefs, and they may question your beliefs. Don't be stubborn on a day like this, listen and take it all in. You can always change your mind or make minor adjustment. Today is a time to celebrate the differences!

I’m too tired to figure out what mine means. I think you are supposed to join a cult.

The only way I am joining a cult is if I am the leader. I need followers who will cook, clean, and bring me fists full of money. It wouldn't hurt if all the men were pretty as well. I would be a great leader; I swear I wouldn't make everyone wear matching nikes like the heaven's gate people (no group suicide pacts either), and I wouldn't stock pile weapons like David Karesh (the gov't did screw up on that one). My cult goals would be simple - to get plenty of sleep, be moderately happy, and swiftly (but fairly) punish all who dare defy me.

This is what keeps Lance sane between practices and pulling weight.  

Ways to piss off your wrestling coach

Lance googled his new head coach, Marple, in one of his classes today and found an article about a guy who pinned Marple in two minutes in college. When he got to practice, Lance asked Marple if the guy's name sounded familiar and busted his coach's chops for a while. I am sure Lance will pay for that in one way or another.

When Lance was a freshman, the high school coach brought him up from junior high to wrestle varsity. Lance forgot his locker combination and had his new wrestling shoes and some other gear stuck in his locker for about two weeks because he was afraid to ask his coach for the combination. After me nagging him for days about his new shoes, Lance walked out of practice one day with what appeared to be a mustache from a distance. When he asked for his locker combination, Coach Lanham got a permanent marker, held Lance down, and wrote the combination backwards on Lance's upper lip so that when he looked in the mirror he could read it.

You gotta love wrestlers!

This is how Lance looks all wrestling season - tired, hungry, and gnarly! 

I know I am dragging out some oldies, but this is probably one of my favorite photos ever. Sr. Prom B and D. 

Another pic around a year old - Brit, Lance, and Ali. 

Could you look any more devilish B? I know this pic is about a year old, but I just ran on to it. 

Annie likes treats

My grandma (Mema) has this little dog named Annie that she found on the side of the highway a few years ago. My friend Lauren swears that at some point Annie has experienced a lack of oxygen to the brain. She could be right, because Annie is what a public school would call "special."

Annie is a rat terrier. Her face is half black and half white. The rest of her is white with random black dots. She also has one huge circle of black surrounding her tail, and her tail is white. She's really skinny and she shakes. Oh, and she can't jump.

Lauren and I had a movie night the other night with these two boys who play basketball at OCU (they are white). Before the movie, we were all sitting around talking when I hear from Lauren, "Hey Brittany, go get Annie so we can show them how she eats a treat!"

Let me explain.

Annie likes treats (except for the green ones that literally make her gag), and when you want to watch her eat one you have at least 10 minutes to spare.

First, you take a treat from the Noah's Ark cookie jar. Then, you put the treat in the middle of the floor, and take a seat. Next, you get Annie's attention and she will approach the treat. That is all you have to do. Annie will do the rest.

Annie will walk around the treat a few times, and then she will go say hi to everyone watching her. She will then lay down next to the treat and pretend to not notice it. Then, she will lay down on her side and growl at the treat. She'll paw at the treat a few times, and then she'll get up and lay on the other side of the treat. She stares at it and then growls. She'll then get up and go say hi to everyone again and go lay back down. This time, she puts her nose right next to the treat and pets it with her paw and she licks it. After about 6 minutes she'll nibble at the treat. The actual eating process takes about 4 minutes. Hence, you need 10 to spare.

It really is funny to watch, but I would assume you would have to be there to get the full effect.

After the treat trick, Annie will get up and walk around. The sight of her walking might be just as funny as her eating, because everyone laughs just as hard at that. When she walks, her back legs hold some what of a pinwheel effect. It's even funnier when she runs.

Everyone loves Annie except for my rabbit who hits her with his paws on her head. They fight over biscuits and cookies. The rabbit also beats Annie up for the dog food. I guess he likes it. Annie no longer messes with my bunny. Though sometimes, my rabbit will chase Annie around the yard and jump over her like a hurdle.

Well ok. Bye.

Be like the squirrel, girl

I just looked out my back window and saw a little squirrel scampering up my neighbor's huge, pain-in-the-ass cottonwood tree with a nut clamped in its mouth. It reminded me of the White Stripes' song Little Acorns. To paraphrase the White Stripes, if that little squirrel can take care of itself in the middle of the cold harsh winter, then so the hell can I. Today, I vow to be more like the squirrel. I will break my problems in to small pieces and tackle them one at a time. But first, I am going to have a glass of wine. By the way, anyone need a mediocre employee with a sparkling personality?

Little Acorns lyrics:

Take all your problems And rip em apart
Carry them off In a shopping cart
And another thing you Shouldve known from the start
The problems in hand Are lighter than at heart
Be like the squirrel, girl Be like the squirrel
Give it a whirl, girl Be like the squirrel
And another thing You have to know in this world
Cut up your hair Straighten your curls
Well, your problems Hide In your curls

I always knew naturally curly hair was a freakin' curse!

I've Been Trumped!

You know that funny little striking-snake-hand-motion for which Donald Trump is famous? All America knows the phrase that goes with it: YOU'RE FIRED! It’s mildly entertaining on TV, not so much in real life.

Even though the fact that I didn’t fit in at this time-warped-alternate-universe job only validates that I am a normal twenty-first century woman, it doesn’t take the sting out of hearing the words “I think you’ll be happier somewhere else.”

No tears stung my eyes. I was handed an envelope with severance pay inside. I briefly spoke what I hoped were words of comfort to a couple of visibly upset coworkers and friends. Gathered up the pictures of my family and walked out with as much dignity as I could muster.

This job was at a non-profit agency that caters to a male dominated profession, which should not have been a problem since that is familiar territory for me. A couple of my previous jobs were Drug Task Force Grant Monitor (old crusty cops) and Computer Tech (young snobby geeks). I fit well in both those worlds. I have a straightforward personality. If I have something to say, I say it. I don’t usually take things personally. I meet conflict head-on but with as much diplomacy as possible. I am not really a crier.

I attribute the beginning of the end of my tenure at this job to my speaking out about the lack of respect the men in office have for the women in the office. This place is a lawsuit waiting to happen. Not too long ago a male coworker actually said that my daughter had a “bambi butt” right in front of me. I know what you are thinking. First, what the hell does “bambi butt” mean? And second, no one in today’s work force would be that stupid. These people are that stupid and more.

Walking through the doors of the place is like walking through a time warp straight to the 1950’s. The men guffaw at their own jokes, make unseemly comments, take two-hour lunches, and the women do all the work and keep their mouths shut. Women shouldn’t make suggestions about improving productivity because “Men are big picture oriented and women are detail oriented.” That is a direct quote said to me by my boss when I noted that the women’s suggestions at a mandatory office brainstorming retreat were ignored or belittled. When I noted how sexist his comment was he told me I was too sensitive to women’s issues, among other asinine things.

I was not happy working there and was keeping my eyes open for another job. So why does my ego still hurt that they let me go? I did give them some ammunition to get rid of me by not always being timely, AKA I was late a lot, and I made liberal use of my sick leave and annual leave. Why do they give it to you if they don’t want you to use it? But for the most part, I truly tried my hardest to do a decent job of managing an unmanageable job. I definitely left the place better off than when I started.

So here I am in unfamiliar territory. I have met with success at most of the things I have set out to do. When I decided to go back to college in my mid-twenties I was a star student, though I dropped out 45 credits shy of my BA. I can’t think of a job I have interviewed for and didn’t get. Admittedly, I have a history of getting tired of working in the same place after a about a year and a half (truthfully I get antsy at about six months, but I try to stick around as long as possible). So, I have a colorful resume. One of the sentences near the end of a kick-ass cover letter I have used repeatedly states, “I was raised with, and firmly believe in, the old adage ‘where there is a will there is a way’ and will tackle any task undaunted.” Most of the time I believe that.

So, with that in mind, I will update my resume and move on. I truly feel sorry for my coworkers left behind. I hear they will be doing their jobs and mine for the next several months. When asked if they should be tracking their overtime so they could be compensated later, they were asked why they couldn’t do all the work during their eight-hour workday. These men are morons and the women left are saints. I am neither.

The Boy Book

So last night was one of two nights that I have just stayed in over Christmas break. It rolled around to about 12:00 a.m. and I was really bored. I went up to my room wanting to listen to the Garden State soundtrack, but spotted the new journal that I got for Christmas from my mema ( I know my mom inspired the idea, though). I looked at it for a moment, seemingly waiting on it to talk to me and then it hit me. Not literally.

I walked over and I took the journal off of the shelf and laid down on my bed, pen in tow. I opened it up to the first page and cleverly wrote The Boy Book. I decided, upon that moment, to write down exactly what I want in a guy, and exactly what I do not want in a guy. I believe I will hold true to my own rules. I know I am not that rebellious.

So, from now on, each and every guy that I date (even for two days) will go into the book. I will write down all known traits (nice, dumb, freak...) and probably convince myself that he is a worthless piece of you know what. I'm hoping that through writing these things down I will further remind myself of the guy I deserve, and I will not settle for less. Ever.

Orange Bowl Talent Person...You suck

I'm sorry, but I have a complaint. My Soooners had a pretty bad game last night. I know. I saw it with my own two eyes, even though I had my hands over them with my fingers cracked just a little.

On the contrary, I don't think it's Bob's fault, it's not Jason's fault (even though he did nothing to impress me), and it's not AD's fault. I'll tell you whose freakin' fault it is--who ever booked the damn talent!

We all know how I love Jojo right? Right.

That little 15 year old brat ( to put it nicely), who spends her money on Barbies and Fruit Roll-Ups, caused us to suck worse than Kelly Clarkson's half time performance where her microphone didn't even work. Not to mention, she had some random guy singing back-ups for her. His voice didn't even harmonize. It sounded like they just took someone off of the 5'o clock news here in OKC ( they always interview the most colorful of people--no teeth, nose hair, women with beards) and threw him on stage with his beat up guitar and less than adequate voice.

I'm convinced that Jason and AD had the same feelings that I do now and were just mad that they let a 15 yr old girl with a 23 yr old man's voice sing the national anthem. I mean, they can't even fantasize about her. She's illegal. Had it been Jessica Simpson, or even Britney (not me) we would have won. 'Cause they are hot.

Nice country singer, too, by the way. He just added to the wondrous performance of the half time show. Who was he again? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Ok well, I guess I'm done ranting! K, bye.

p.s. Dan Cody, if you are really depressed and want to make out with me...I'm sooo totally up for that.

ABCDEFGHIJK and so on

Today may not mean much to anyone else, but to me it is as much of a holiday as Christmas. It is the 3rd of January. The following multiple choice will give you a hint as to what takes place today:

A. Mars and Saturn get married.
B. My psycho ex-boyfriend leaves for boot camp, thank GOD.
7. If the Moon were made of roast beef would you eat it?

I really hope you picked "B" because that is the answer. YAY.

In other news, my New Year's was quite eventful. A couple of my friends and I rented a party bus. That was a lot of fun, but the real fun began around the stroke of midnight. We had our neat party bus take us to a warehouse party in Bricktown. There were about 500 people on the dance floor at one time. It was really hard to move, but there were a lot of hot boys who I did not mind being smushed up against.

My friend Lau and I sought to see how many kisses we could get in an hour. We did pretty well, but I won't announce the final number in fear of my mother and Auntie T.

My other friend Ren (Lau and Ren are both Lauren. . . we split the name in half. Get it?) danced for the first time ever. That was more comical than anything. She's actually pretty good once she starts "feeling the music" or something like that.

It was kind of hard to just stand in one place at this particular party. If one were to stand in one place for more than 4.34 seconds, a random person would come up behind you and seemingly hump your ass (aka "freak dance" on you). The Laurens and I spent a lot of time just running away from these people.

After the warehouse, we all got back on the bus and headed for home. I was really excited to be going home after the party because my jeans were soaked in some mystery liquid, and my shoes were really taking a toll on my feet. Also, I was getting sick of most of my friends who came with us on the party bus.

That was my New Year's. Woo hoo.

Oh, and male race, you are hereby released from my hatred. I have met about 5 of you who have changed my mind, and one is calling right now! Love you!

but I'm not ready yet

"I do think New Year's resolutions can't technically be expected to begin on New Year's Day, don't you? Since, because it's an extension of New Year's Eve, smokers are already on a smoking roll and cannot be expected to stop abruptly on the stroke of midnight with so much nicotine in the system. Also dieting on New Year's Day isn't a good idea as you can't eat rationally but really need to be free to consume whatever is necessary, moment by moment, in order to ease your hangover. I think it would be much more sensible if resolutions began generally on January the second."

- Helen Fielding “Bridget Jones’s Diary”

Does everyone who blogs list his New Year's Resolutions online, or is it just too obvious- too tired? Since I'm new to blogging (and we REALLY need to post something), I'm going to do it anyway. There isn't going to be anything here that anyone hasn't seen before - the resolutions themselves are standard:

2005
read better books - watch less TV
exercise more - eat better/eat less
cook more - spend less
keep a cleaner house - sew something
take better care of the garden & yard
spend more time with my family & friends
learn to appreciate solitude
complain less - work harder

The big difference is that I'm actually making resolutions this year, and I haven't done that in a very long time. I'm not sure why I haven't but am afraid that it was a lack of self confidence. Why make a resolution just to break it by Valentine's Day?

Posting those resolutions is an additional step of faith. Now, not only do I know that I have things to change but so does anyone who sees this: faith and accountability.