that I'm watching Camp Rock right now
and I have no children
and (contrary to popular belief) I am not twelve
and there are other things I could be watching
but I am choosing to watch Camp Rock?
Dear Mr. Disney, please make me a Disney Channel star so that I no longer have to live vicariously through Miley Cryrus and the Jonas Brothers...
More news that I can finally share... I'm an aunt!
My sister had a teeny little baby girl that is pretty much her clone. Her name is Phoenix Monroe, and now I'm going to do the proud aunt thing and share lots of pictures.
Also, I'm working on a bit of a blog redesign...bear with me as things change! I have up some freebies for my crafty scrapbooking friends, plus some coupons for things in the SIStv boutique- perks of me working there? I get to tell you about sales and new products in advance. Sweet deal.
Okay, baby pictures!
Okay, so here is the greatest story of my weekend.
Backstory: I spent the weekend in Chicago at CHA, which is a trade show for craft and hobby stores.
The fashionistas and I are standing around trying to guess the price of this incredible scrapbook room that Making Memories was giving away when this old man in a security outfit walked up to us and said to Jeanette "Excuse me ma'am, I need to ask how old your daughter is."
Daughter meaning me.
We thought someone was playing a joke on us and Jeanette gets all firey and is all "Who put you up to this?" to which the old man replied "I am just doing my job."
Turns out, he is security. And the minimum age to attend the show is 14. And he didn't think I was old enough to be there.
HE THOUGHT I WAS UNDER FOURTEEN.
So I spend the next few minutes trying to convince him that I am, indeed, 25 while Jeanette tries to persuade him to let me stay on the show floor because I work for her and it's my job.
In the midst of trying to assure him that just because I had my picture taken with the Hannah Montana cut out does not mean that I am in my tween years, some people in their twenties just like Hannah Montana, the Making Memories lady comes by to collect our cards with our guess on them. All I'd written on mine was 22, because that's my wedding date, so I hurriedly scribble in a random number and start digging in my purse for some lipstick in an effort to look not 13.
A few hours later my cell phone rings and Gretchen is calling to tell me that...
I won the freaking Making Memories scrapbook room. Not just any scrapbook room. The almost $4,000 scrapbook room. Full of furniture and Making Memories product.
Quite possibly the best day of my life since December 22, 2006.
Amy Tangerine made this little video of me right after I calmed down sightly:
And Making Memories posted some pictures on their blog. I'd like to post a disclaimer about the crazy eyes I have in those pictures because I was very excited and overwhelmed by the 27 people taking my picture. This is why I could not be famous, because the paparazzi would only get pictures of me with the crazy eyes.
So a big thank you to Making Memories, for the best prize ever. I can finally take my computer off the tiny console table and stop balancing my mousepad on my knees :) And another thank you to the old man that tried to kick me out of the show. If I hadn't been so flustered, I'd have totally overthought it and never come up with a good number. So mr. old man security guy, you can think I'm thirteen anytime. I owe you one.
I got an email from Natalie that said: I wonder if we could all name ourselves from the girls in (the movie) Now and Then?
To which I wrote: Okay, easy: I am the one that stuff balloons filled with pudding in her bra.
To which Natalie wrote back: That one is obvious.
It should not be obvious, which means that all those years of stuffing my bra with those flimsy chicken cutlet looking things was in vain. Alas.
I just returned home from 8 whirlwind days in Chicago for the Craft and Hobby Association. I got to spend time with some of my favorite people, which was awesome.
My friend Jody is having a baby, and so we threw her a surprise baby shower and we had a surprise birthday party for my sweet friend Jo. What that means is that this weekend, I ate cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Fertility diet be danged, that cake was made by my lovely friend Ashley's husband and it blessed my soul.
And I have to give two very special shout outs today. One to my friend Ambie, who called me early this morning to tell me the news that I was on pins and needles all week to find out. The other to my friend Christie, because she posted these videos on her blog of my sweet Neena and I when she was just a wee babe and they made me all nostalgic and teary eyed.
And finally, I have some really big news to share! I think tomorrow I will tell you all about it...and get back in the habit of blogging. I have many funny stories from Chicago to tell.
I made it to Chicago last night...after Jeanette accidentally drove us to Michigan first. We road trip in style!
So, some of my blog readers probably don't know that there is a side of scrapbooking that I don't talk about a lot. And the reason for that is because I think it's a ridiculous, petty thing and don't want to subject other people to it's nastiness. But in order to give a little back story here, I'll tell you that there is a place (we call it the bad place, lol) where scrapbookers go to do nothing but anonymously say bad things about other scrapbookers.
Doesn't that just sound like a blast? Isn't that how you want to spend your day? I thought so.
And sometimes, those people will leave mean comments on other scrapbooker's blogs. Or send hate mail to their work. Anonymously, of course. Because it takes a really big person to say mean things to someone anonymously on the internet.
Most of the time I just delete them.
But today I'm PMSing and decided to respond.
Here is what was left one my blog today:
|
A new comment from “blah” was received on the post “Proving My Sister Wrong” of the weblog “tongue in chic journalings”. |
ha I heard you weren't nearly as cute as you think you are and that you actually looked like a dweeb most of the time.
And at first it made me all pissy and here is what I wanted to say about that:
A) Who says the word dweeb? Seriously? Are we in the fourth grade?
B) I might not be as cute as I think I am, but at least I don't have to leave anonymous mean comments on people's blogs, which means I'm probably cuter than you
But then I thought about it some more, and I decided I feel really sorry for her. So I decided to say this instead:
I think you are probably incredibly insecure, and I hope that one day you realize that scrapbooking is meant to be fun and enjoyable instead of something bitter and hateful. That leaving mean comments on people's blogs is only going to make you feel like a better person for a small amount of time. It merely masks whatever it is that you are really feeling, and until you deal with that you are always going to dislike me for the simple fact that I have something you want. And that makes me sad, not because I want you to like me. I don't even know you. But because you let something that could be so artistic and freeing and inspiring become something filled with bitterness and anger and now you'll never enjoy it the way you could. It almost amuses to think you would accuse me of being vain, when three nights ago I tearfully asked my husband not to look at me because I was struggling so much with my self esteem. Because the thing is, you don't know me. You simply made a decision about me, a stranger, that was negative because of your own insecurities. And you're only human. So while I'd rather you not leave mean comments on my blog, I'm going to leave it there. And hope that one day you will be as fulfilled in this craft as I am, without needing to break other people down to do it.
I did choose a tagline of someone else's. Congratulations Laura, you win the prize! Please email me your address! I made a new blog banner using SIStv's new partner Scrapblog to celebrate your wittiness.
It totally brightened my day to read all the suggestions. It's funny to me how many of you mentioned my small stature. I said small stature to sound really smart, y'all. In high school, my friend Troy used to call me Thumbelina. Now my friend Ashley calls me her Polly Pocket. At SISiversary she actually told me that she wanted to keep me in her pocket and feed me junior mints, and I think that was the point in time that we realized maybe Ashley shouldn't have any more wine. Turns out, she was totally sober.
She might have been quite sleep deprived though. I was. Working the SIStv event was the most draining experience of my life. Don't get me wrong. It was by far the most fun event I've ever planned, outside of my wedding, totally rewarding, and I can't wait to do it again. But I didn't sleep the entire week of. For the four days leading up to, I worked from about 9am to midnight every day. I even slept at my bosses house to get more work done. I sort of have a problem with being addicted to work. Then the event lasted until 1am every night, some days starting at 8am..meaning my work day started at 7...and then after the event was over I stayed up til about 3 in the morning chatting with Amy about boys and Kimberly about kids and everyone else about stuff I don't really remember because A) I had a few glasses of wine and B) I was a sleep deprived zombie
So it's very easy to see how on Saturday, while trying to order a philly cheese steak, I burst into tears. I was nearing exhaustion and famished. I had a total of 12 hours of sleep over 4 days. And so I stumbled into the food court at the mall, and walked up to the first place I saw. The first thing on the menu was a philly cheese steak. Good. I know what that is. I can eat that. Philly Cheesesteak, please.
And then he peppered me with all sorts of questions about what I wanted on my philly cheesesteak. I'm sorry, I wasn't aware there were choices. I wasn't under the impression that this was like a Subway. And I simply wasn't prepared for that. I had made a lot of decisions that week. And for some reason, the thought of trying to decide what should go on my philly cheesesteak when everyone knows that philly cheesesteaks come as is, that just threw me right over the edge. I started tearing up and in desperation I cried out, "Please don't make me make any more decisions"
To which he replied, "Right, no, no decisions, the onions are good, onions. Have a better day ma'am" as he hastily handed me my philly cheesesteak.
And that is the story of how I scarred for life the poor 15 year old boy working at the food court.
Now let's have some pictures to illustrate this story:
Exhibit A Pre Event: Looking fresh and only slightly stressed as I silently curse Bill Gates for creating Vista. Also, I have very cute hair in this picture.
Exhinit B Event Day 1: Setting up for the online SISiversary. I look fairly in control of my surroundings. Note, however, the dark circles under my eyes.Note also that my outfit that day was fab.
Exhibit C Event Day 1: Setting up the store, I look a bit perturbed. I am probably frustrated that my hotel butler only wanted to give me one table for 6 people. This is not what I had specified. In the end, however, I get my original tables. This is because when I want to be, I can go all Monica up on you. And by Monica, I do not mean FRIENDS. I mean like my mother. And that gets me the tables that I requested 4 months ago. There is no picture of my victory.
Exhibit D Event Day 1: I look scared to death to be standing in front of a group of people. Ironically, I do not look scared to death in the photo shown in Exhibit F in which I stand in front of the same group of people and rap to Ice Ice Baby. This is a phenomena that I believe should be studied by sociologists. I'd also like to point out that my bug eyes here make me look eerily similar to The Runaway Bride. And I don't mean the Julia Roberts variety.
Exhibit E Event day 1: As the team applauds joyously for someone, I contemplate making world peace. At least, I hope that is what I was doing.
Exhibit F Event Day 1: Word to your mother
Exhibit G Event Day 2: Nearing the finale, I lose most of my dignity and allow this to occur
All that said, I really know how to throw a party y'all. Make sure you come to next years.
Am I the only person who will admit to watching Denise Richards reality show on E? I thought not.
Has anyone else seen any evidence thus far that her life is, indeed, complicated? Because what I am watching looks, um, shallow. And overdramatic. And slightly boring. But complicated? I'm not seeing that. I think the title of the show should be "Denise Richards: sort of famous, acts fairly ridiculous, and occassionaly poses nekkid for magazines which makes it pretty easy to get your own reality show on E"
You want to know what complicated is Denise Richards? Call 1-800-Comcast and try to get some sort of resolution from them. And don't have one of your assistants do it either (aside: if you have more than one assistant, your life is not complicated. The word you are looking for is cushy. Common mistake.)
I decided that I want to have a tag line.
Like, Kayla Aimee: Rocks The Fab.
Kayla Aimee: Better Than An Olsen Twin.
Kayla Aimee:Very Brawny.
Leave me a tag line in the comments. I'll pick my favorite and the winner will get a mystery scrapbooking package from me.
Also scrapbooking related: new work. You can also see it in my SIStv portfolio
Thing Number 1: My life has been unusually filled with flowers lately. I had flowers delivered to me at work on three separate occasions in the last few weeks. This is not something that happens often and so I find it necessary to blog about it.
Flowers from: Jeanette, The Fashionistas, and Amber + Rhian
Which leads me to Thing Number 2: Rhian
Rhian was here a few weeks ago from Britian helping work the event we held at SIStv. Contrary to popular belief, I don't just love her because she's british and sends me flowers.
I love her because she does things like this:
Don't skip this video. I promise you want to watch it.
So I open my email yesterday and one of the girls had written me. I won't name names, because sometimes she gets a little bitter when I post her emails on the internet. But that is the chance you take when you are friends with me, amen.
So I read through this long, serious email. And I'm prayerfully reflecting on what was written when I get to the P.S. at the bottom:
PS I talked Tiffani out of buying bright purple tights from Target
even though they were only $2. Thank God I was there to stop her.
I really love how some things never change.
