Wednesday, March 31, 2010

fish eggs and eyelashes

Yesterday I posted my "day in the life" piece, but oddly enough -- it was not a Typical Tuesday.

I took the afternoon off from work. I skipped out of the office bankbranch office (office sounds so much cooler!) at 2:00. And literally, I skipped out. There is just something about free time which turns me into a giddy twelve-year-old girl.

I came home and pounded out the afforementioned blog post.

Then, I had to hit up the DMV to renew my tags and pay taxes on dear Bella (my cherry-red Pontiac Vibe) and her boyfriend Edward (hubs sporty blue Niassan Senta.)

(Clearly, hubs has no idea that I've named his vehicle after an old man who loves jailbait. You know, I'm really not sure he'd be cool with it, either. Oh, wait -- I'm certain he wouldn't dig it.)

Assuming there would be a torturous wait at the ever-bustling Department of Motor Vehicular Annoyance and Expense, I walked in with my story on my mind and my notebook in my purse.

However, the auto-gods were kind, and there was no line. Oh, the joy! No, I didn't get any writing done, but I did get to pop into the library and pick up some reading material, you know, since I had extra time. (I choose three YA books based solely on titles/ cover art/ blurb appeal and then grabbed an, uh, exotic Chuck Palahniuk book called SNUFF. Yeah, it's about porn. I felt a little awkward at the check-out line.)

Next, I decided that I deserved sushi for lunch. I took the back roads and decided to check out a place where I haven't been before. How hard could it be to find one little sushi joint? I even had the address.

I drove up and down Shelbyville Road for a solid hour. (It's a busy, busy road, with two shopping malls on either side of the interstate. So, rather than drive, I sat at a lot of red lights and did a lot of split-end-splitting. You know how I roll.)

I called to find out where they were located.

"You know St. Matthew? St. Matthew mall?"

"Oh, what? You're inside the mall?"

"Yes! The mall!"

So, I walked about the mall. I found a very curious tasting sample of Orange Chicken, but I did not find Sakura Blue or their sushi.

I called again.

"No. No in mall, next to. By bookstore and pizza! You know?!"


So, I was a little edgyspice until I got my sushi, by which time it was 5:15 and my glorius afternoon -- which I could have used to write -- had wasted into eveing.
It was really good sushi, though.
I even tried a roll with fish eggs.
Apparently, avo is not an abbreviation for avacado.

Tomorrow starts the Novel Writing Challenge hosted by my wife, Tina Sandoval. I am officially participating. I will write 500 words a day, and I will not cheat/ whimper about it/ fold under the pressure/ beg for your mercy.

I'm in.
You know, since I was already supposed to be writing 500 words a day anyway.
*hangs head in shame*
*gives self thought bubble over own head*

(thought bubble text to follow)



This time it's for real! This time it will be different. I don't care if my current WIP is as dear to me as a tiny newborn baby. (Someone else's tiny newborn baby, obvi.) Doesn't everyone feel that way about what they're working on? What makes my MS so special and sacred that I can't just pound out a first draft? Who do I think I am?

Then my thought bubble got so full it burst, admonishing words covering my couch like ripped pillow feathers.

And I put one of those feathers in my palm, blew on it like a wayward eyelash, and made a wish.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

typical tuesday: a day in the life

Stolen from Sierra Godfrey (who stole it from someone else) and Travener (who stole it from Sierra)

6:32 a.m. -- Curse alarm radio, which is currently set on a country station.
6:33 a.m. -- Curse  hubs, who has not yet hit snooze.
6:39 a.m. -- Curse six-minute snooze.
6:45 a.m. -- Consider another snooze. Realize hubs is still in bed and that morning laptop time will belong to me if I go ahead and haul myself out of bed.
6:47 a.m.-- Contemplate making coffee. Audibly curse, remembering that bedroom alarm clock is five minutes fast and that it is actually 6:52 a.m.
6:53 a.m. -- Start coffee. Grab diet pepsi from fridge anyway.
6:55 a.m. -- Open blogger to check for new comments while lighting cigarette and opening diet pepsi.
6:57 a.m. -- Open reader and check out a few blogs, opting to keep most unread so I may savor them later.
7:00 a.m. -- Realize I'd better pour a cup of coffee now if I hope drink a cup before work.
7:05 a.m. -- Wish with fierceness that I had used the faciliates before hubs went in there and claimed them.
7:10 a.m. -- Light second cigarette and pray that hubs doesn't get into the shower right as I finish smoking, because this will totally ruin my getting-ready routine.
7:15 a.m. -- Hear hubs starting shower.
7:16 a.m. -- Stumble into bathroom doing pee-pee dance. Realize hubs is still on toilet, and is only pre-heating his shower water.
7:17 a.m. -- Curse marriage in general and my moronic decision to purchase a one-bathroom house.
7:18 a.m. -- Finally get to take a morning wizz.
7:19 a.m. -- Log in to facebook figuring since I can't start getting ready yet I may as well see if my ex has responded to the birthday message I sent him anyone has written any interesting status updates.
7:20 a.m. -- Frown at the emptiness of said facebook inbox my coffee cup; refill
7:28 a.m. -- Log out of anything I'm logged into for privacy purposes.
7:30 a.m. -- Brush past hubs toweling off his manhood as I race into the shower.
7:40 a.m. -- Blow-dry hair with urgency
7:50 a.m. -- Brush teeth and apply make-up with urgency.
7:57 a.m. -- Fight tooth-brushing hubs for spot in front of the mirror and quickly straighten a few chunks of dry hair.
8:01 a.m. -- Kiss hubs good-bye while trying to get into pants, a shirt, etc.
8:03 a.m. -- Apply deodorant and perfume; curse hair which is only semi-straight.
8:05 a.m. -- Grab two diet pepsi's for later and stick in purse. Grab cigs, cell phone, keys, try to remember to unplug both coffee pot and hair straightener.
8:08 a.m. -- Curse time itself and high-tail it out of the driveway.

8:16-8:18 a.m. -- Whip into bank parking lot only a few minutes late. Avoid snarky comments from co-workers.
8:30 a.m. -- Participate in morning meeting. Vow to open 1,000 checking accounts by the end of the day.
9:00 a.m. -- Fine count all money currently in and being added to ATM. Balance ATM. Curse people who use ATMs, and especially people who call them "ATM Machines." Sing the song I wrote for my MIP (Musical in Process) called "Automated Teller, Machines, Machines!!" and do a few robot-dance-moves.
10:00 a.m. -- Charm bank customers. Make change for businesses. Do arm bends with rolled coin.
11:00 a.m. -- Take smoke break and apply body splash.
11:05 - 1:00 p.m. -- Charm bank customers. Consider blogging at work. Chicken out.
1:10 p.m. -- Arrive home for lunch. Write witty and belly-busting blog post. Use the word spice in it at least three times.
1:55 p.m. -- Wonder if anyone notices or cares that I always take five extra minutes for lunch.
2:05 p.m. -- Charm bank customers. Semi-flirt with the hot ones.
3:45 p.m. -- Take smoke break to check blog comments.
3:50 p.m. -- Wish I'd eaten lunch.
4:20 p.m. -- Snicker; start to balance.
5:05 p.m. -- Lock bank doors, bring in drive-thru tubes, celebrate. Wish I wasn't out of balance again.

5:30 p.m. -- Lazily drive home and know even though I will beat hubs to the house but he'll still be the one to bring in the mail. Sort of feel proud that he's quasi-trained.
5:45 p.m. -- Read and comment on blogs. Take a call from my mother. Hope she can't hear me typing as she tells me about her day.
6:15 p.m. -- Continue to catch up on correspondence. Realize hubs got home at some point and is talking to me. Wonder vaguely if he's said anything important. Doubt it, and start to feel a bit guilty. Let that go, then ask what he is making for dinner. Read a few pages of whatever novel I'm reading while he cooks.
8:04 p.m. -- Give up the lap-top so he can start using it. Eat and compliment his food at some point. Think about writing; wish I'd done it at lunch. I'm too emotionally drained now, and wait! American Idol is starting! Thank God I've set the DVR for Idol and LOSTspice.
8:05 p.m. - 10:00 p.m. -- Rewind whenever hubs starts singing along with the contestants. ("They are on the show. You aren't.")
10:00 p.m. -- Ask hubs if he's ready to start watching LOST. Wait to get his attention as he is involved in some warcrafty-battle. Am told that just because my show ended does not mean that he is ready to start watching LOST just yet. Consider doing dishes. Decide to wait until tomorrow.
10:05 -- Vote for my favorite Idol contestant. Wonder if I'm depressed.
10:15 -- Finally start watching LOST.
11:15 p.m. -- Feel better than if I'd just gotten laid. Say, I effing love that show about four times.
11:30 p.m. -- Hubs tells me he is going to bed and I say I am going to smoke one more cigarette and will be right behind him.
12:00 a.m. -- Realize I have written way less than 500 words. Ask myself if I think two sentences is progress.
12:01 a.m. -- Crawl into bed and avoid hub-like advances. Tell him I'm too sleepyspice for all that. Swear we'll do it tomorrow.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Call me, on the line -- you can call me, call me... anytime. Call me.

This Saturday evening, the coolest ever thing happened.

I Skyped.

Not only did I skype, but I skyped with the lovely, talented, wonderful, awesomespice Tina Sandoval.

(It was only the conference-call kind of Skype... no video feed. Thankfully. I am pretty sure I was wearing some ratty t-shirt at the time.)

Hearing my Sweetest Niblet's voice from the speakers of my little laptop, I felt like I was taking to a gal pal who was right down the street -- not time zones away in Arizona.

It. was. divine.

We talked about our writing, we chatted about blog posts of the past... we talked for an hour. She, of course, wanted to know when I am going to make good on the vloggy part of her giveaway win, and asked when I would be posting my karaoke-dedication.

(I quickly changed the subject.)

(But it will happen eventually.)

(And by eventually, I clearly mean: don't hold your breath. I have to gear up for it, which means finding just the right song and rehearsing it until I sound pitchperfectspice singing it, then figuring out the drink-ratio required to perform said song at a karaoke bar with the added pressure of a video camera in my face and knowing that the performance will appear on this blog.)

She's worth it.

In other news, I planned to do one of those day-in-the-life posts today, but I got off on that Skypy-tangent. So, I think I shall post that tomorrow. Stay tuned. You won't want to miss it. I am pretty sure it will be funny.

In conclusion, do you Skype?

Do you have any song suggestions for my impending humiliation American-Idol-esque karaoke vlog?

I eagerly await your comments, by which I mean I will spend the afternoon logging in to my blogger from my cell phone and checking to see what you say. (Obsessionspice.)

Friday, March 26, 2010

Friday Fatigue: in which I am sleepyspice

You've been warned.

This post may be a little sleepy, because I am litearally nodding off as I type these words. So, it's clearly fatespice that I decided to participate in my first Friday Five meme today.

1.How many hours’ sleep do you need in order to be at your best, and what’s the minimum you can get on a regular basis and still be functional?

I need eight hours. I prefer more. Sometimes, I sleep ten or twelve hours on the weekends. (Shh. Don't tell people.) I can survive with six hours, but seriously, if I only get six hours my demeanor screams pothead. I either act aloof or braindead, usually both.

2.What’s your favorite sleeping position?

Ahh, I love to sleep on my stomach with my arms curled underneath me boobies. (Yes, I basically, feel myself up while I'm sleeping.) Sometimes when I wake up I have no feeling at all in my arms or hands -- or that creepy tingling sensation.

3.What was the cause of your most recent difficulty sleeping?

Well, last night it was the double overtime basketball game between Kansas State and Xavier. Usually, it's one of three things: the hubster wants nookie, I'm writing a chapter in my head, or I am anxious that I am about to have a massive coronary or blood clot or aneurysm.

4.When you can’t seem to drift off to sleep right away, what are some things you do to bring about sleep?

I used to take a teensy amount of medication at night to avert the panic attacky thoughts. Now, I just suffer through it alone like a trooper. Honestly, I just lay there. I don't look at the clock. I don't get out of bed. Getting out of bed always gets me into trouble, because I will get distracted and stay awake longer. I lay there until I fall asleep -- however long it takes.

5.When did you last doze off at an inappropriate time or in an inappropriate place?
Um, I know there are other people out there who are like this, right? Seriously, I don't fall asleep if I'm not in bed. I don't doze in front of the television, or nod off while at work, or in the car. I just can't. It never happens.
Okay, I did take a nap on the couch recently -- it was the afternoon of the Oscars, and I was watching the pre-show on the E! Channel. However, this was a planned snooze, so it doesn't count.
Also, I had that TMI experience in which I didn't remember blowing chunksspice in my own car, but I don't think blackout drunk -- though perhaps inappropriate -- counts as "dozing off."
P.S. I wasn't driving.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

TMI Thursday: in which i should have said nothing at all

Nice pants, wanna... ?

So, a couple of weeks ago the manager at my branch had a super busy day. He didn't even take a lunch! He was literally in his office all day long, bombarded with customer after customer.

Suffice it to say, when he came up to the teller area at 4:45, he was famished and informed us that he was going to "lunch" and would see us all on Monday.

After the obvious, "Yeah, go on and go. You must be starvingspice!" I went ahead and decided to compliment his wardrobe. (Nothing wrong with staying on his good side!)

(Plus, he had on this light purple shirt, a sharp looking tie, and black and white [kindofhot] pin-stripe dress pants.)

So, yours truly tells him, "You know, I really like your outfit. I just noticed, because I haven't seen your pants all day!"

One of my tellers turned beet red and burst into boy-giggles. "Are you aware of how that sounds?!"


So, I had to admonish my teller. "Mind! Gutter!" (Get yours out of it.)

Yeah, so that was funny.

Open Mouth - Insert Foot Hand

I almost got to tell this story to a room full of colleagues yesterday at a work-thingy, because we got to tell funny slash embarrassing bank stories. (And, you know, I do have a few of those which I actually can tell in mixed company.)

Sadly, I didn't think of this anecdote until later, so the prize went to a lady who once eeked! at a mouse in her night depository. (Big whoop.) (Yes, I am a sore loser.)

But I digress.

I had this customer at my old branch -- super cool guy, friendly and real. We could greet him with a "What's up?!" instead of with a stiff, "Welcome back to such-and-such bank where I work."

This particular guy has a hook where his right hand should be. I don't know what happened. Either I've never asked or I did ask once and have since forgotten the story. (Sometimes I'm a little self-obsessed not a very good listener.)

Point being, it used to be all awkwardspice, but I got over it.

Until: one day he was dutifully stamping his checks for deposit, and I blurted out...

"Can I give you a hand with that?!"

Don't misunderstand. I didn't place emphasis on the word hand, because I wasn't being cute. Still, when I realized my poor choice in words, I was mor.ti.fied. I mean, who says hand to a guy who has a hook where his hand should be?

TMI ThursdayI couldn't breathe. I sort of wanted to laugh. But, no, I had to complete his transaction.

We started chatting about something mundane -- maybe something practical he bought -- I can't recall what, exactly, because I've semi-blocked it out.

I was all, "Oh, yeah. That sounds awesome! I'm sure that comes in handy!"

I said to myself, "Self? Seriously?!"

Check out Lilu's blog for more tragic tales!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

wordy wednesday.

For those of you who thought my post from yesterday was the funniest yet -- many, many thanks.

I sort of don't know what to say today. I mean, anything I type is just going to be anticlimacticspice and will inevitably fail in comparison.

There are those who do a weekly theme -- it's called wordless Wednesday -- in which they merely post a photo without blogging about it at all.

To me, that's not lazy... it's willpower. When I sit down with this blank white space at my disposal, I got things to say. I've kept it bottled up all day. I can't just upload a photo and go -- no, where's the emotional cathartic release fun in that?

So, I had to commentate a little first. Now, I'll show you some photos. Well, after some more commentary.

I spent last weekend with my 4.5 year old niece. Before we went to dinner, I decided to freshen up a bit. She refused to leave my side while I fixed my face. I decided to put a little make-up on her, and she informed me that she was not allowed to wear any "eye-scara." We stuck to blush, a little eye-shadow, and some very age-appropriate lip gloss.
Watch out, Tyra. I'm thinking by cycle seventy-seven, she will be ready for  America's Next Top Model.

My dear niece decided that posing for me was pretty awesomespice, so we had a full on photo-shoot while waiting for our table at Outback:

At the end of the night, I let her give me a make-over:
and clearly I rocked the pigtails.

Don't be jealous.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

in which my hips and inner-thighs speak rapture

It was Free Pastry Day at Starbucks.

My thighs are not as excited about this as the rest of me.

In fact, my thighs wanted to know, did you not just feed us a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel from Panera? Are you out of your damn mind?

To my thighs, I responded, But, it was an asiago bagel! All bets are off when there's asiago involved. And it was breakfast and lunch. I'm not going to eat my free pastry yet, so step off. I'll put it in the fridge, and heat up that flaky, free croissant later -- like for dinner or something, when I will unabashedly smother it with either hubs homemade chicken salad or a giant gob of butter.

My thighs weren't done. Are you aware that bathing-suit-season is just around the corner? Do you not recall that picture your husband took of you walking down a honeymoon beach a mere eighteen months ago? (You know, the one in which we had a striking resemble to cottage cheese?)

Me: Hey! We promised to never bring that up again! What happened to taking it to the grave?

Thighs: This is for your own good. Don't blame us. It could have been worse. Your arm flab wanted to do a full-blown intervention... Thinks you should trade in a few episodes of American Idol for a trip to the gym.

Me: But I carry all that boxed coin at the bank. That's practically cardio!

Thighs: You may want to do a few reps while you've got it in hand or something. And, a squat or twenty for good measure. Anything at all. We're getting a little embarrased. We scare small children.

Me: There's no need to exagerate. My body does not scare small children! You know what? Run and f**k yourselves.

Thighs: Run and what? Ohh, believe me. We would if we could. We would run at least a half mile, and then we would look better. But since you have what appears to be negative lung capacity, we haven't run in the better part of a decade. It's been so long, we actually don't remember running. We thought maybe running had been outlawedspice.

Me: Hilarious. Adding spice to things doesn't make me less annoyed with you. Well, okay. Maybe a little less annoyed. Because it's cutespice.

Thighs: And because you know we're rightspice. Bazingaspice.

Me: Stop over-using it! Ohh, but that episode of Big Bang Theory last night was really funny, wasn't it?

Thighs: You probably would have "LOL-ed" a lot more if you hadn't been stuffing your face with chocolate chip cookies.

Monday, March 22, 2010

have you seen my stapler?

Wall. head. bangspice.

It has officially been a Monday. I have, in fact, a case of the Mondays.

Perhaps I am feeling a bit surly due to the state of utter failure that is my NCAA tournament bracket. I may as well have wiped my arse with the five dollars I spent to enter my own damn pool at work. The Kansas Jayhawks can run and flock themselves.

In other news, I have learned that my biggest failure as a writer is point of view. Apparently, even when writing in third-person omniscient, one cannot freely head-hop her way through a manuscript, even if it sounds really, really cool in her own head. It only confuses and annoys readers.

Now, rather than throwing in the towel, I'm trying to compile a list of references so that I can become a better writer. If anyone has reccomended remedial reading on POV, please leave a shout-out for me in the comments. Also, if anyone can think of good examples of novels written in omniscient third person POV, leave me those titles as well.

My muse and I will be eternally indebted to you.

Lastly, I would like you to know that I had an ab fab weekend, but since this Monday has swiftly kicked me in the you-knows, it all feels very far away, like it happened in a dream long ago. If you'll excuse me, there is a giant bottle of wine calling my name. I believe she wants to get me drunk and take advantage of me.

I think I'm going to let her.

Friday, March 19, 2010

i'll show you mine if you show me yours

Sometimes I wish I could use this blog as a forum to vent about specific co-worker situations.

(I mean, I've semi-done that once, awhile back.)

(I'll be honest: it felt amazingspice.)

But, I am kind of hesitant to push the boundaries. In this economy, a girl can't be too cautious when it comes to safeguarding her job security.

So, I'll keep my luscious lips sealed. All I can say is, TGI-effing F.

In other news, I'm exhausted today. Because I am sporty as well as girly, I stayed up until the wee hours last night, intently watching the late basketball games. I'm running the bracket pool at work, and I take great pleasure in circling my own wins with a nice red pen.

Oh, what? You want to see my what? (I'll show you mine if you show me yours.)

And here is where I plan to spend the next five or six hours:
Yes, there is a beer in the corner.
A beer for Ber.
I will cheer for Louisville with hubs, a mega Cardinals fan, because I am a supportive wife. (Sometimes.)
Inside, I will secretly weep for my Indiana Hoosiers.
(We'll get 'em next year, guys.)
(Or, maybe the year after that. Let's be realisticspice.)

Have a great weekend, except for the person who quit following me. You won't be reading this post, so I can say without apology that I hope your weekend is woefully mediocre.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

TMI Thursday: in which I ask rhetorical questions

If i do consent to "trying harder" in the baby-making department, is it wrong to hope the kidlet arrives in the middle of March so I can take maternity leave during the basketball tournament next year?

Is it weird that I haven't gotten my hair cut since last October, and am sort of procrasinating solely because I am obsessed with finding and splitting my split ends?

Should I remember the last time I ate a god-honest vegetable?

TMI ThursdayIs it bad that I used the phrase "flicking the bean" at work today?

Should I be worried that I haven't changed my oil since I purchased my car in August?

Is it wrong that as I type this, I keep shooting the husband mean faces every time he opens his mouth to say anything at all? (I'm busy, dude. Shutitspice.)

Is it wrong that I didn't shave my legs on purpose today, because hubs called in sick to work and therefore is not entitled to sex tonight? (You remember, right. When you were a child and stayed home from school because you were *cough* not feeling well, then you didn't get to go out any play with your friends at 7:00 that evening even if you were miraculously feeling like you wanted a blow job [opps, that was hubs] better?)

Are you jealous that in spite of the previous two rhetorical questions, hubs is now making my dinner?

Finally, is it obvious that this rather tame TMI Thursday is completely because I am distracted by the first round NCAA games? (I didn't blog at lunch. I was at a sportsbar watching the end of the Notre Dame loss and the first OT of the Florida game. Duhspice.)

Don't you hope next weeks TMI is jucier?

Aren't you just sure I'll deliver?

Check out Lilu's blog for tales more tragic than this one. 

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

i just want to pinch you.

I married a Murphy, so today is kind of a big deal for the paternal side of his family. We started our celebration on Saturday, which consisted of drinking a whole lotta Guiness (well, for me, a whola lotta Smithwicks, since I can't quite stomach the Guiness) at the annual parade of green-clad potato throwers. This was my first year in attendance, and hubs says I am a real Murphy now. Well, he did say that at the parade, but changed his mind at the end of the night when we had a hellacious argument about whether or not we're going to procreate.
(I'm the one who is hesitant to be with child.)
He resorted to low-blows, like how I refused to even take his last name.

(I think Amber Tidd Murphy sounds even more Irish than just plain ol' Amber Murphy, but you know, you just can't win 'em all.)
(Plus, a serious lover's spat is kind of Patty's Day tradition for us.)
Spectators... and hey lookit! That's the place where I had my ten year high school reunion last fall! Remember?!
Def Leprechaun even had a one-armed drummer on the cabose of their float.
Even pre-fight, the Murphy's were a little too inebriated to capture themselves on film.
It still workedoutspice.
He's lucky he wore that green hat, or I would have been compelled to pinch his cheeks.
My brother-in-law (whose name actually is Patrick!) just turned twenty-one, so he really went all out this year in his little Irish get-up and his beer-googles.

(Now, that's vision.)

Have a happy St. Patrick's Day.
Get out of here. Go drink a green beer. 

Tuesday, March 16, 2010


I watched Hoarders last night.

During the first commercial break, I dared to look around my living room and I thought, oh holy mother of four-letter-word. Color me cluttered.

Yes, it's true that most of my mess is hidden and collecting dust in the dark, but I know what's there -- like the 100+ VHS tapes in my bookshelf/ media cabinet, for instance. Yes, I love knowing that should I desire to watch my old school copy of Riding in Cars with Boys or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun or The Royal Tenembaums or Serendipity or Ghost World or Memento or...

okay. You get the picture. It's there. If I wanted it, it would be right there.

Also semi-hidden? Probaby 50+ copies of this weekly magazine from the late 1960's - early 1970's called Story of Life. My grandma gave them to me. Have I cracked the cover of even one issue?

Hell to the no. I don't have time for that type of nostalgia. Plus, I can't even find a link for it with a quick google search. Something that obscure can't matter much, right?

Then there are the dinner dishes which belonged to my mother and her mother before her. I boxed those suckers up after the wedding, when the hubs and I received the chic cherry blossom dishes from my our gift registry.

The plan was to box them up and then head over to Goodwill to hand-down my hand-me-downs.

Nope. They are stashed up above my washer and dryer, situated on a shelf that will probably someday snap in half from the weight of the eight to ten place settings. (Not to mention the gravy boat and sweet little sugar and cream holders. And those are just adorable.)

When it came down to it, I didn't want to give away those dishes. I've been eating off of them for the better part of three decades! I can almost picture my grandfather, now long gone, spooning sugar on his morning grapefruit or grits.

I always assumed I got this emotional-ism from my own mother, a sap if there was ever a sap.

But then a few years ago she got all spring-clean-y (and menopausal) and went so far as to let my father chop up the piano from her childhood, which, to be honest, is so far gone tune-wise that it could probably never to plucked back into the correct key.

He made it into a modern-looking end table. It actually does look pretty cool.


So, I'm torn. I'm torn between holding on possessions from the past which evoke certain memories for me -- and shedding my life of the stuff well before I become one of those crazy cat ladies who can't even negotiate her way from the living room to the litter box without knocking over piles and piles of her memories.

What do you think? What stuff are you holding on to? What would it mean to give it away?

Monday, March 15, 2010

apparently, i belong at dunder mifflin

I am not often told that I resemble anyone remotely famous, but a few weeks ago, I wore my hair curly (which really just means scrunched with some gel) when I worked a Saturday morning at the bank.

One of my coworkers said it looked "very Pam Beasley."

Even later, after telling my hubs the story and getting his opinion on whether or not this was a compliment -- he said, "Pam's hot. I'd do her" -- I was still not convinced that I would ever wear my hair curly again. When I think of Pam, I think of frumpy.

So, I was not particularly stoked that I had found my facebook doppleganger weeks late, but I didn't let it break-a my stride. Nobody's gonna slow me down. (Etc.)

Part two.

Enter: mr. and mrs. musings of amber murphy, headed out on Friday evening for a date night. Since our tax refund had been directly deposited into our his checking account hours before, we had money burning a hole in our proverbial pockets.

Hubs and I decided a trip to the casino boat just across the river was in order. We would allow ourselves to take a gamble with a mere $100.00 each from said tax return. Yes, we were to yank on those slot machines without a care in the world!

Because I am a bit of a control freak (who, me?!) I decided I would rather take my fate into my own hands and sit down at the poker table to play a little no-limit texas hold-em. When I sat down with my measley stack of poker chips, I was the only lady at the table. I doubled my money in no time. I was the life of the party. I was on my game.

Then, it happened. (Yes, I lost all my chips. I ended up walking out of the casino $100.00 lighter. But that is not where I'm going with this story.)

The dealer at the table innocently asked me, "Has anyone ever told you that you look like that girl from The Office?"

Immediately, I cringed. "You have got to be kiddingmespice," I responded, sans the spice, since I don't actually say spice in real life when I am speaking to strangers. "What is the deal? You are the second person in less than a month who has said I look like Pam!" I thought about launching a poker chip at him, but I was concerned that I might be ejected from the casino for attacking a card dealer. (Plus, I didn't really have the chips to spare.)

"No, not her, the other one. The new girl!"

Some other dude with more chips than me piped in, "Yeah, the hot one!" 

I relaxed. I had spent a fair amount of time applying make-up for our big-night-out, and even super-straightened my hair.

But, since I don't watch The Office on the regular, I decided some research was in order. After folding another mediocre hand, I went to the ladies room to capture my hotspice self on film. I immediately knew that when I got home, I was going to google-image this alledged Office-hottie and do a little comparison.

Well, she is cute. But, I think I'm cuter... even though it looks like I'm attemping to eat my bottom lip. Was I trying to look seductive?

Maybe I was just concentrating. After all, I was in the middle of taking a leak.

I should have quit playing while I was ahead. (So much for my pa-pa-poker face.)

Friday, March 12, 2010

friday friend

One of my best gal pals is in New York this weekend on an art school trip.

I'm so jealous, but I love her and hope she has fun and sees celebrities cool art stuff.
Here I am with my Mee-gan at a recent slumber party.

Even though she doesn't have a blog (or read my blog... yet!) she deserves a shout out for her pure awesomeness.

When we met, we were both working as waitresses. I didn't like her much at first, because soon after we met we went to see Metallica in concert. It was bad enough that she impressed all the boys in our group because she knew like allthewords to everysingle song
(while I knew none.)

Worse, she also impressed my husband-to-be, who tried to convince her to flash everyone or something. I was younger then, and less secure in my own fabulousness, so I was lividspice. (Okay, so I don't even quite remember the night. It's a haze of hard rock and hard liquor.)

Now, we're super close. We have been friends for years and years. She knows all of my anxieties and insecurities, and I know hers.

Here are some other reasons I adore her:

She sometimes randomly screams when she's excited or after drinking fruity cocktails.
She is a really picky eater. I find this endearing.
She is obsessed with Johnny Depp and Edward from Twilight. Before I read the books, she explained that it was just the way he loved Bella that did it for her. That's what made me want to read Twilight. (Yes, I know it's controversial to like the series. I don't care. Neither does Megan.)
She's a professor of Art History!
She can put together a super cute outfit in notimeflat.
She has an entire facebook photo album entitled "Amber's wedding."
She just ended a six year relationship and is now single and fabulous and unwilling to settle.
She's a good poker player.
She runs around, work-out style.
She knows my secrets.

Hmm. I need to make her follow my blog, and start a blog of her own, even though she probably doesn't have time for it since she is working on her thesis.

It's free on the weekend. 

Thursday, March 11, 2010

TMI Thursday: isn't that a ring on your finger?

Circa 2006, 2007 and 2008, I was engaged to be married to a man.

(Now, I actually am married to him. You know, because this post might leave you wondering.)

So, even though I was engaged, I was still a pretty shameless drunk flirt. There may be stories from those years which contain too much information even for TMI Thursday. I mean, maybe. I'm not ruling anything out, nor am I confessing that those types of stories definitely exist -- hidden deep in the vault where secrets stay.

Either way, in my world, there are certain rules which govern the girls-night-out. I have numerous married gal pals who remove their wedding rings while galvanting in taverns of ill repute. They believe that they'll have a better chance of scoring free drinks if they appear single, and justify it from the "what's mine is his" school of thought. One of our basic tenants is as follows -- if a married lady spends less on cocktails due to another man purchasing a round or two for her benefit, then she is really only saving her husband money.

Now, while I always consider it an accomplishment to convince an unsuspecting to add a Cosmo or a Coors Lite to his bar tab for me, I must say that I am not a huge fan of the ring removal.


I love a challenge. 

And I'm not talking about shoving my left hand into my pocket or making sure I only grip my current drink with my right hand.

I like to flaunt it.

(At the risk of sounding like a ctease, I emit the you (probably) can't have this, but you can get it liquored up vibe.)

I mean, it's his money. It's not my fault if he wants to share the wealthspice.

Check out Lilu's blog for more tragic tales!

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

short, sexy, and sweet

I'm sorry.

I can't blog right now.

I just spent my entire lunch hour writing!

Are you proud? Are you?

You'd better be.

I'm writing a scene in which David (Laurel's second love interest) comes to visit her for the first time since she went away to college.

He wants to getitonspice.

She's trying to get ready for her sorority induction ceremony.

Now the author needs a cold shower before she heads back to the bank.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

a little ashamed

I've been feeling a little guilty lately.

I think I'm sort of obsessed with my own blog. Seriously, I adore coming home for lunch in the middle of my workday. My plan is always to sit down and write. It's the perfect time to work. There are no distractions (other than the hungry rumble in my tummy) or reasons that I shouldn't be able to churn out a good amount of words before I head back to the world of checking account deposits and cash-in tickets.

However, I find that when I come home for lunch, all I want to do is blog.

My reader is full as a good girl's Christmas stocking, and then there's my own post -- just waiting to be written. Something alarmingly witty, for sure. Something that will generate the multiple comments I will hungrily read from my cell phone when I sneak out for a cigarette break at 4:00.

So, I avoid the writing -- you know, of the fiction variety. I sit here, instead watching the text fill the blank screen of a New Post.

Then, at night, when I'm home again and my reader is still heavy with entertaining and inspiring posts from all of you, I read with abandon. I comment like it's my job. 

This is my routine. This has become my life.

Yes, I am in full-on blog mode, sometimes until 8:00 at night, when American Idol or LOST or Survivor or Modern Family or The Bachelor or whateverspice starts.

Then, I'm in full-on veg-out mode until I stagger to bed with what are probably very glazedoverlooking eyeballs.

When, I ask? When am I supposed to write?

What the hell is wrong with me? Do I not care enough about it? Do I not have it in me?

Er. Sorry. I'm having one of those days. 

Monday, March 8, 2010

we have a winner.

Oh, this is so exciting!

I have been looking forward to this alldayspice.

I'm pleased as punch to announe that the winner of my bithday/ 100 followers giveaway is none other than...

Tina Lynn Sandoval!

To whom it may concern, I assigned numbers to each entrant. Tina Lynn had numbers 38-42 for her five entries. Then, I used to select the winner. Out of a whopping 79 entries total, number 42 was selected. Now, she thought she only deserved 4 entries because instead of just saying I was pretty she said: #amberishot.

I gave her five anyway. It's my blog, so I reserved the right to do that. Kthanx.

The thought of vlogging my karaoke dedication to my sweetest niblet has me feeling a bit weepyspice. I can't wait to go out and get my sing-song on. Let me just say, though, that it may be a few weeks before I can deliver on this promise. I am recovering from some nasty sickness in which I cough up my lung on the regular. You'll all just have to be patient.

So, Teener, here's what I need from you!
Email me your home addy. You can send that to or just message me on facebook. (Preferred.) I also need to know what you would like your poem to be about! Suggested topics are love or being a writer/ the art of writing.

Once I have that information, I'll be mailing you a package which shall include the hand-written Shakespeare love-quote frame, the $25.00 VISA giftcard, the poem, and a special mystery surprise!

Congrats, little nib!

Hosting this giveaway was super fun.
Thanks to everyone who entered!
You, dear readers, are the bomb-diggity. Seriously, I'm blown away by your love and affection.
Go on. Pat yourselves on the back.
Put your arms around yourself and do the fake make-out dance.
I'll wait.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

recovery weekend; last chance for my giveaway!

Yesterday, I missed my husband's our nephew's birthday party. They went to play Lazer Tag, and then later there was ice cream cake. (I'm sad about missing out on the ice cream cake.)

I stayed home not only because I wanted to watch basketball, but also because I am continuing to a) hack up a lung and b) breathe out of only one nostril at a time.

This morning, I feel a little better.

I think it's due to my miracle concoction: the hot toddy. Combine: a good amount of whiskey, a big spoonful of honey, a squirt of lemon juice, and water... then microwave that until it is steaming. It soothes the throat and warms the insides, and has the added bonus of numbing intoxication, which makes one forget they are sick, and after consumption, causes you to feel compelled to mix up another four of them.

In fairness, I didn't invent this drink.

I'm just glad someone did.

In other news, today is the very last day to enter my giveaway! I shall be announcing the winner tomorrow.

Here, let me remind you on the fabulous five prizes you may win:

1. A $25.00 VISA giftcard.
2. An original poem, which will be hadwritten and autographed on pretty paper. It might be about love, about being a writer, or maybe the winner will be able to choose the topic. We shall see. This giveaway is a bit seatofthepantsspice.
3. A love frame from my wedding day:

4. A mystery. The fourth goodie will be a surprise until you open the package!
5. The whopper: I will dedicate a karaoke song to you, personally, and put it on my blog, vlogger style.

Read and leave a comment on this post to enter. You may earn up to five entries, and don't forget to let me know how many entries I should award to you. Even though I watched the movie Proof last night, I still hate math and will be inclined to give you only one entry if you do not tell me how many you've earned.

Aw, man. I can't wait to see who I get to serenadespice.

Friday, March 5, 2010

wax on, wax off

Well, some of you must think I am supercoolspice because I have a ton of awards to pass on. I intend to graciously accept each one, but if you feel I've forgotten an award you bestowed upon me, then by all means, let me know. Tina Lynn gave me one, and I failed to comment on that particular post because theraflu has caused my brain to cease functioning. So, she just left me a polite comment to say wazzup with that?!

You might need to do the same. Unless you're Ashley Stone over at Fragment Ideas, because today I am passing on an award she gave me!

Now, I must admit that, though honored, I do feel a bit unworthy of said award. I had never even seen The Karate Kid until six months ago. (Hubs says I'm un-American.) However, I am a huge fan of Kung Pow: Enter the Fist. (and then?! My nipples look like milk duds! I hope they have icees!!)

Yeah, so now I am going to tell you some things I've mastered:

5. Typing really fast, especially when typing account numbers at the bank. Customers are always impressed when I don't even look at the keypad.. you know, the one on the right side of the keyboard.

4. Bubble letters. Especially my own name in bubble letters.

3. The Sunday sit-in. This is where I hardly leave my couch on Sundays. I'm totes good at staying put.

2. Eating sushi with chopsticks.

1. The art of waitressing -- I can carry three glasses in one hand... or four salad bowls on one arm.

Proofspice. I love how my dog is in the picture, looking at me like, "Um, Mom? What are you doing?!"
Quickly passing this award to:

Vita Brevis, who mastered the art of the birthday-dedication post.
My Sweet Niblet, who, if I hadn't mentioned it, is the Portia to my Ellen.
Kentucky Blonde, who is too busy to blog lately (for reals) but should still not be forgotten.
Delicious Ambiguity, who is my blog-twin because we have clandestiny... and stuff.
Mehlane, because I missed her when she unplugged.
Emcogneato, because she just had a birthday and is also a Hoosier. Like me.

ps, it's Follow Friday.
Go link up and discover some cool new blogs. You just might gain a follower or fifty.

Update: Don't forget to enter my contest! I am editing this post at a place where I can't do much else on my blog, maintenance-wise, so I can't link the post. It was published on March 2nd! Just scroll down and find it.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

TMI Thursday: in which there is a sleepver dance.

TMI Thursday So, one of my girlfriends hosted a sleepover a couple of weeks ago. There was sushi. There was a pretty intense game of I Never. There was karaoke, oh yes, there was karaoke. But before that there was dancing. The hostess is the gal on the floor in the beginning of the vid. I was the camerawoman. It should be mentioned that fair hostess passed out about four minutes after the song ended, but is still fiercespice.

This post likely will not stay up long, because I would like to remain friends with said hostess. (p.s. There is one tiny word that merits a language warning before clicking play.)


Don't forget to enter my contest if you haven't already.

And, as always, be sure to visit Lilu's blog for more tragic tales.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

i'm smitten

Well, I never.

You people put yesterday on my toptendaysinlife list. I can't tell you how much all your birthday wishes (and compliments!) meant to me.

Special thanks to my Sweet Niblet, Fiction Groupie, Sierra Godfrey, Mehlane, and Diana for making #itsambersbirthday a trendy trending topic on Twitter.

However, no one could have outdone my main blog squeeze over at Vita Brevis, who dedicated an entire post to me yesterday.

No, seriously. The post was about me. I inspired it. Go there now and read it. I'll just give you a snippet, to entice you to click on my linkage:

And, while Amber is definitely a very attractive young lady and she's also quite talented and funny, these are not the traits that originally attracted me to her blog and such. Well, it didn't hurt; I'll be honest there. However, the thing that made me sit up and take notice? Her love of college basketball, specifically the lowly and woebegone Indiana Hoosiers.
For reals, I read the whole post about eight times.
Also, several of you are already entered in my birthday/ 100 followers contest, but if anyone missed out on that... you can enter it here.
I mean, if you aren't interested in watching a vlog in which I dedicate and sing karaoke to you, personally, then don't bother entering my contest. It's not like I want to get all melodic for a lukewarm fan.
I'm not beggingyouspice.
Yeah. So, the contest ends Sunday. 
You'd better get in on that action while you still can.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

in which i have a birthday and a giveaway

The blogger as a child.
p.s. it's my birthday.
And people at Starbucks like me. (I did get this for free, but it was not for the benefit of my blog.) 
(Obvi, it was a gift.)
There's a cupcake in that box! There's a hazelnut latte in that cup!

In other news, I'm having a 100 Followers/ It's my birthday giveaway.

You should enter.

I'm giving away the following goodies:
1. A $25.00 VISA giftcard.
2. An original poem, which will be hadwritten and autographed on pretty paper. It might be about love, about being a writer, or maybe the winner will be able to choose the topic. We shall see. This giveaway is a bit seatofthepantsspice.
3. A frame from my wedding day. In fact, this very frame:
4. A mystery. The fourth goodie will be a surprise until you open the package!
5. The whopper: I will dedicate a karaoke song to you, personally, and put it on my blog, vlogger style.

If you want to enter this smashing contest:

leave a comment.

1 entry if you follow and comment
1 extra entry if you tweet it out!
1 other extra entry if you blog about it
1 final extra entry if you tell me I'm pretty
1 last extra entry if you... tell me I look young.

That's five total entries if you do the whole shee-bang.

Ohh... careful.

Don't post about this on facebook or you will be disqualified.
(Hubs and Mom don't know I blog, dog.)

It's my birthday. You best be telling me how many total entries I should allow you, because I am not doing all the math. I hate math. If you don't total it out you are getting one entry and that is finalspice.

Lastly, this contest ends Sunday, March 7th
at a time tbd. So, enter early and often...

or else.

Monday, March 1, 2010

pre-birthday and 100 followers! celebration

If you didn't already know, now you do: tomorrow is my birthday! Also, I finally reached 100 followers over the weekend.

(Actually, I gained 11 followers, because I signed up for this insane Friday Follow business, in which over 750 people link their blogs and follow each other. I consider this a semi-sell-out move on my part. but I really wanted to reach 100 followers by my birthday. And I did. And I feel awesome. And popular.)


I get to have the duty 100 Follower Giveaway. Stay tuned for deets... I'll post the giveaway tomorrow. If you'd like, you can feel free to leave suggestions on just what I should give to you in the comments.)

Here are a few ideas to warm up your Monday brains:

an autographed photo of me
a strand of my hair
a vlog in which I karaoke (again) and, this time, dedicate the song to you, the winner! (ohh, you could even choose the song!)
or, a gift card to a place. you know. the regular kind of give-away gift.

Yes, let me know if any of those prizes sound appealing!

In other news, I went out for a pre-birthday celebration on Saturday. After a yummy sushi dinner with the rents and my hubs, the Mister and I headed out for karaoke as planned.

I so wanted to ask hubs to record me singing, but I couldn't figure out a way to ask him which didn't sound excessively self-absorbent. I settled for a photo-op instead.

The red-eye replacement was jacked up. That's why I have beady eyes. Just so you know.

My mama got me the zipper shirt for my birthday. Do you want to know what brand it is?
It's from the fashionable Miley Cyrus label.
Who else can rock that out at almost-twenty-nine?

Hubs and I at the end of the night. You can understand why he got cropped out of the photo above.

I look, um, a little tipsy. Mostly, I was just happy because I got to sing three songs, including the very last song of the night... because I was the birthday girl.