tongue in chic journalings

The one about Tennessee

You know how sometimes things happen to you that are so ridiculousy weird that there is no way you can convey the weirdness of the moment to anyone who was not present to watch it unfold?

Well, that has happened to me three times this week. And each time I was like "HELLO? I have a BLOG people. I NEED to be able to write about these things!" And that is why I need someone filming me 24/7. Well okay, maybe not 24/7. Homie don't play that.

I am just thankful that Jeanette was with me at Target to witness the total awkward interaction that I had with the cashier. It never fails, once someone hangs out with me in real life (as opposed to all my imaginary friends) they begin to realize that I simply attract weirdness. Seriously. I should wear a t-shirt. "Dude. The WEIRDEST things happen to you" she said as we left. "Story. Of. My. Life."

I've had lots of emails about life in Tennessee. Besides the other near-tornado we had last night (yes I was in the bathtub) that blew all the screens off our windows, we are really loving it here. I think tomorrow I will do a pro/con list of living in Tennessee. Come back for that, it will include my important thoughts on many topics such as "Why do all the roads here have 72 names?" and "Toilets in TN: Why your husband should never flush them while you are in the shower."

As for my new job, I didn't want to talk much about it until A) we were settled and B) I felt confident that my stalker did not move to Tennessee as well and was waiting to sneak up on me at work to slash my tires because she is freaking crazy.

I am working at Scrap In Style Tv - which is why we moved here to begin with. I've been a fashionista on the site since last May. In case you are wondering what the heck a fashionista is, it basically means that I get to wear really cute outfits and faux make-out with rock stars. I'm really good at those things. Actually, it means I am one of the designers for the site, which is about scrapbooking. Last July I went to Chicago with Scrap In Style Tv to attend the Craft and Hobby Association. After that I told Jeanette that Jeff and I wanted to get the heckfire out of Atlanta and that I would totally move to TN to work for her because I have great skills...nunchuk skills, bow hunting skills, computer hacking skills...

Except I didn't think that would actually happen. Or that it would even happen so quickly once we started seriously discussing it as an option.

To make a long story short (Who me? Tell a long pointless story? What?) that's where I am now and I really love it. It's really a dream job for me, and not just because it has to do with scrapbooking. But because I really believe in the site and in Jeanette's vision for it. I really love the community there and I love working every day towards creating new things to make that better for the people in it. And I really love my cute new red leather planner with color coordinated tabs. There is way more that goes into running Scrap In Style Tv than probably anyone would ever guess, and I love being a part of the day to dayness of that. Now I'm just making up words.

I just wanted to say thanks for all the well wishes.  They are much appreciated.  If you are SISters (code for members at SIStv) I'd love it if you'd send me  your suggestions for anything SIS related-but especially if they are digital scrapbooking related! You can leave them in the comments or email me at KA@scrapinstyletv.com. I'll color code them in my notebook and refer to them as we are brainstorming and implementing new things.   

Q/A

Last night Jeff and I had dinner at Jeanette's house. Jeanette has five kids. Also present at dinner was Jeanette's friend Braytay. We're sitting around, eating pizza, talking about movies we want to see when Jeanette's previously quiet four year old little boy decided to join the conversation.

He looked at me.

He looked at Jeanette.

He looked at Braytay.

Then he pointed at me and suddenly asked "Hey. Why doesn't SHE have any boobies?"

About 6.7 minutes later, after we regained our composure, and Jeanette told him he probably shouldn't say those things, he piped up again.

"Well, when is she gonna get some?"

I turned to Jeanette.

"Should I tell him the truth?" I asked

She nodded, so I thought about it for a minute and answered "As soon as Jeff buys me some."

Needless to say, I won't be wearing THAT shirt anymore...

The day before yesterday, the people that lived above us started vacuuming. It's really not very loud, and didn't really bother us. We settled in to watch Jeopardy. When it finished, they were still vacuuming. Jeff and I commented on how it never takes us half an hour to vacuum a 920 square foot apartment, but maybe they are a little obsessive. We fixed dinner and ate. Still vacuuming. Odd. But when they continued vacuuming straight through The Daily Show and The Colbert Report, we started to have doubts about our new neighbors.

Because really, what sort of childless people vacuum a 2 bedroom apartment for 2 straight hours without stopping?

The sort of people who have something to cover up, that's who.

I'm just saying. I watch CSI people. I know things.

Jeff, Pluto isn't even a planet anymore

Jeff and I have been really wanting to see the movie Cloverfield since we saw previews for it in the theater over a year ago. Jeff has always assumed from the trailer teasers that the movie is about Godzilla.

Today I read a review on it to see if it was worth spending the $20 to catch it, or if we should wait for it to come out on dvd. Turns out it was the number one movie this weekend, and the description said that it was a flick about a giant reptile loose on the city.

I related this incredibly pertinent information to Jeff.

KA: "So you are wrong, it isn't about Godzilla."

J: "Yeah, I think it is. It said giant reptile, right?"

KA: "Yeah. So it isn't Godzilla, since you know, Godzilla is a giant monkey."

J: "No honey, you're thinking of King Kong."

KA: "No, I know King Kong is a giant monkey, but so is Godzilla."

J: "What? No, Godzilla is a giant fire breathing lizard thing. What planet do you live on? Pluto?"

And the aforementioned title of this post was the best comeback I had.

Thanks ridiculously-petty-scientists-who-dropped-Pluto-from-our-solar-system, giving me the last word in that conversation and rendering useless the phrase "My Very Elegant Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas." 

What do you mean I'm a scrapbooker?

I have not scrapbooked in over a month because of that whole thing about how I moved to another state over the holidays. I have this issue about doing big things during the busiest season of the year. Like getting married two days before Christmas. Or moving to Tennessee at New Year's. Seriously. This is why I keep a good supply of blackberry merlot on hand. Because I'm crazy.

So last week I got this paper bag in the mail from Office Max. It had a black damask pattern on it. You were supposed to use the bag to get a discount or something about something, but I thought to myself "Self! I must scrapbook that bag!" I also bought some paper bags from IKEA with the sole purpose of using them to scrapbook. I have issues.

Last night I pulled out my paper bag and I scrapbooked until 4 in the morning

while listening to to this beautiful song by Christina Aguilera, which I used on the page. I love scrapbooking- I can't even begin to describe how awesome it felt to make new things last night.

MUSIC VIDEO CODES Music Lyrics

Christina Aguilera Save Me From Myself Music Video

Things I find Disconcerting

Alternate Title: What my therapist calls Obsessive Compulsive Disorder but my husband calls just plain Crazy

1) My new shaving cream smells exactly like bubblegum. It does not smell at all like tropical wildberries, as the can claims. I am not sure why I find this so disconcerting, but the idea of stepping out of the shower smelling like an entire pack of Bubblicious  bothers me so much that I have to furiously lather myself up with my exotic coconut lotion the moment I towel off.

       

2) The commercials here are all slightly different. Most everything is the same, it’s just the location they announce at the end that is different and it throws me off. What really bothers me though, are the lawyer commercials. I was in the kitchen yesterday when the commercial came on where people are talking about “I was in a car accident and my lawyer got me this much money!” Only then they said the lawyers name and I was like "Who? No! Montlick and Associates gets you the money. I’ve never heard of these people. They are not who you call!It's a scam!!" And then I realized that Montlick and Associates don’t exist everywhere, and that

Tennessee

has it’s own, different lawyer commercials. Which totally unnerved me because I adjust not so well to change. So I’ve taken to muttering “Montlick and Associates” in place of the other law firm’s name when that particular commercial comes on. I find it soothing.

 

3) Our new kitchen cabinets are very tall and I can only reach the bottom shelf in them. So Jeff had to buy me a step stool to reach the other shelves. This has nothing to do with my OCD, it’s just annoying that I have to pull a step stool around the kitchen. I asked for a ladder that slides on rails around the kitchen, like Belle in Beauty and the Beast. What I got was a step stool. No one understands me.

4) Jeff and I turned down the wrong road near our apartment the other day and ended up at a llama farm. I found this disconcerting for two reasons. One being that we live that close to a llama farm rather than a Target. The other is that ever since I watched The Emperor’s New Groove years ago, I have a compulsive habit of saying “llama llama llama!” whenever I see a llama, or someone says the word llama around me. I was biting my lip to keep from doing it but you people should know that OCD is a killer. About ten minutes of pure silence had passed when I blurted out “llama llama llama!” and it was total relief. For me. Jeff told me I need help.

5)   Exhibit B
 

Welcome to Tennessee * part two

Author's Note: If you have not read Part One you might want to catch up. Also, this is very funny now, but not so much when I thought I was dying.

I didn’t hear the Cable Guy knocking the first time because I was busy dragging a mattress into my bathroom. I’ve gotten quite adept at this over the years. At the first sign of thunder and lightning I grab my flashlight, battery powered radio, and make camp in my bathtub underneath my mattress. As the Cable Guy knocked louder, I surveyed the bathroom and thought that the setup might look slightly strange to a total stranger so I shut the bathroom door.

I let Cable Guy in and made small talk with him as he proceeded to do his Cable Guy thing. Just everyday normal small talk like “So what’s you name? Chris? That’s a nice name. Do you think we’re going to die in this storm?”

I told Cable Guy Chris about how I was new to the area and wasn’t really sure where the big red tornado storm on the news was in relation to us. Cable Guy Chris nicely explained the weather map to me and told me the big red tornado storm was about 20 minutes away from us. “Actually, he said, it’s about to hit where I live. Do you mind if I call my wife and daughter?”  Which of course, I didn’t, mostly because I was relieved he was not totally creepy.

The storm starts getting worse, and by worse I mean the big red tornado storm was moving right towards us. At which point I turned to Cable Guy Chris and said to him “Listen, when I was 8 years old I was home when a tornado hit my house. I am terrified of tornadoes. I’m telling you this because I think you should know that I am about to completely freak out.”

I’m digressing from the story a little bit to tell you about the time I got hit by a tornado. I mean, not like, physically. I am not quite that awesome. We were getting ready to go to my cousin’s birthday party when it started to rain. Not even storming, just raining, when all of a sudden half of a tree flew past our bay window and the rain started going sideways.  My dad yelled for us to run to the basement as the doors in the house flew open. There was a sound like I can’t explain, this crazy roaring sound. Our house was built into a hill, so the front of the basement was the garage doors and level with the driveway. The back of the basement was underground, with two tiny windows up high, looking out over the front yard. We huddled in the back of the basement as trees crashed around us, the garage doors buckled in, and watched as the tornado took off the entire second story of our neighbors house and then proceeded to smash flat every house across the street. We were sure our house wasn’t standing as we crawled over trees blocking the basement door out into the front yard, where the shingles from our roof were buried. Our house was standing, damaged, but standing. We had no warning, no siren, no big storm. We were so lucky. From that day on, I’ve been terrified of tornadoes and storms send me into a total panic. Many, many days in the following years that I was a latchkey kid my parents would return home from work during a light rain to find me huddled in the basement under an old mattress. Obviously, I had issues. I really should have gone to therapy sooner. After this story, I should probably go back just to address this specific issue.

So I’m standing in our new apartment listening to the people on the news talk about the Very Big Storm and watching the 60 mile an hour winds, completely panicking when Jeanette calls. “Do you want me to come get you?” she asked. “YES.”

Just as the word left my mouth, the tornado sirens started going off and the people on the news sort of freak out and start saying “If you are in (insert name of city here) take cover right now!” And Jeanette says “Oh crap- go get in your bathtub!”

So I hang up, turn to Cable Guy Chris and politely (aka totally hysterically through my tears) invite him to take cover in my bathroom. “Listen, I’m getting in the bathtub. I’ve already got a mattress in there. You can totally take cover in the bathroom. I know that is weird but I don’t want you to die in the tornado.” He looks at me as though I am slightly psychotic as the news people start saying empahtically “If you are in (insert road right next to my apartment) area, go to your safe place now!” I’m running for the bathroom thinking “Safe place? Lady my safe place is a place where there is no tornado! I’m in a freaking apartment bathtub with a mattress over me.”

Later that day when I called my husband to tell him about this ordeal, when I got to this part of the story he paused for a long time and then carefully asked me “So…you were in the bathtub with the cable guy?”

And the answer to that is no, I was not. Cable Guy Chris, possibly more afraid of me than the storm, took cover in the hallway just in front of the bathroom. When the sirens ended I yelled out “Is it over?” and when he gave the all clear, I crawled out from under my mattress and walked into the living room, where he was nonchalantly hooking up my internet. "So, uh, you're pretty scared of tornadoes, huh?"

Turns out a tornado never even actually hit the ground. Cable Guy Chris was very kind about the whole incident. I gave him a cream soda for his trouble.

Amen.

Welcome to Tennessee * Part One

Author's Note: This post is long, but I promise the end will be worth it. Also, I just thought it'd be cool to type an author's note.

The move to Tennessee was a long, tedious process. First we moved about 3/4 of our stuff here, then we went back to the old apartment to repaint it, clean it, and pack the last of our stuff. I was deathly ill during this process. Yes, tonsillitis counts as a deathly illness. I came back up on Thursday so that we could get our phone/internet/cable hooked up and the plan was that Jeff would follow on Friday. Which meant that I had to drive alone on Thursday. I was nervous about this because A) I do not like to drive over the mountain and B) I do not like to drive over bridges that are over water.

I realize that the probability of driving off the edge of the mountain is very unlikely, however, I am a girl with many irrational fears and so I remain afraid of driving over the mountain. My whole life people have told me that my fear of bridges over water is totally irrational but on that fear I beg to differ. Did you people know that one bridge collapses in America every single day? When the bridge in Minneapolis collapsed this summer, I sat in the floor watching CNN and sobbed for those people because that is my second worse fear in the world. Please notice that I said second worst fear.

Okay, so I pack up and start my drive to Tennessee. It's going really well. I'm rockin out to Miley Cyrus (yes, I realize the horrificness of this) and I notice that I can only see about a quarter of the mountain due to the crazy amount of fog covering it. I'm psyching myself up to drive over the mountain in the fog when the van next to me starts swerving erratically back and forth around me. I totally panic and think that they are those people that Reader's Digest warns you about, who try to make you hit them and then take your insurance money. (Come to think of it, my fear of bridges over water began when I was 7 and read a Reader's Digest article about a bridge collapsing and a bus crashing into the water. Maybe I should stop reading the Reader's Digest.) I start to switch lanes when I notice the woman leaning out the window flailing her arms at me. Apparently I had driven for 2 hours with my passenger door open. So that's what that windy noise in the car was. I pulled over, closed the door, and got back on the road.

I made it over the foggy mountain by following the semi trucks with their hazard lights on, and then over the ridiculously long bridge over water by holding my breath. I believe that is what you are supposed to do when you pass a graveyard, but I find it works for driving over bridges and keeping the plane in the air.

It starts raining pretty hard just as I pull into town. By the time I get to the apartment and turn on the news, it's a Very. Bad. Storm. I sort of thought that maybe the cable guy wouldn't even show, because you know, it's probably dangerous or something to connect all that electrical stuff in Very Bad Storms. But just in case I went upstairs to let our new neighbors with the Very Cute Dog that we met while moving in know that I was going to be alone with the cable guy, and ask if they could they please leave their balcony open while he was there. In case I needed them to sick the Very Cute Dog on the cable guy.

I was feeling pretty dang proud of myself. I drove over the mountain in the fog. I drove over the ridiculously long bridge over water. I didn't drive the whole way with my door open. I was feeling pretty freakin brave.

That's when the people on the news said that we were under a tornado warning.

My second biggest fear? Multiply that times a trillion.

I am deathly, enormously, beyond explanation, insanely afraid of tornadoes.

And that's when the cable guy showed up...

Husbands.

So I'm super sick again. I was well for about three days and then yesterday it hit me again full force. I'm annoyed about this because I have things I need to do, things like buying a new shower curtain. But instead, I'm curled up in bed with thirty boxes of tissues and some medicine that cost $25 for like, 5 pills. Which better cure me because that $25 could have bought me this really cute pink sweater at the Gap.

So we really needed another shower curtain because we went from a 1 bedroom/1 bath apartment to a 2 bedroom/2 bath apartment. And a long time ago we decided that we would have separate bathrooms in the new apartment, and that my bathroom would be the guest bathroom.  This is because Jeff is a hairy guy and no one told me before I got married that men get hair all over the bathroom. I figured that guests would use the hall bathroom, so if I let Jeff have the master bath off the bedroom, I wouldn't have to run in the bathroom before my guests needed to pee to make sure there was not man hair everywhere. I am a very thoughtful hostess.

So back to the shower curtain story. I am in bed sick and Jeff was going to run errands.

"Can you pick up a shower curtain for the master bath?"  I asked sweetly through my tissues.

"Sure. What kind?" he asked

"Whatever. It's your bathroom." I answered.

This is one of those times where people did not warn me about marriage. Specifically, that if you want your house to have a certain decor, you do not give husband free reign to choose a shower curtain.

This is Exhibit A.  Otherwise known as the guest bathroom. I would like to take a moment to point out that this is all the stuff from our old bathroom, which Jeff helped me pick out when we registered. When he refused to let me have a pink damask shower curtain, which I am totally bitter about due to the recent appearance of Exhibit B in our lives.

This is Exhibit B. Otherwise known as Yes. This Is Seriously What My Husband Bought And Hung In Our Bathroom.  If I wasn't so doped up on sinus medicine, this just might drive me to drink.

When I asked him (sweetly, very sweetly) what possessed him to buy this shower curtain he told me that this was all Target had. As though I do not have the entirety of Target's merchandise memorized. Turns out, this was all Target had for $5 (because apparently men think it is ridiculous to spend more than $5 on a shower curtain) and it was between this and fish, and he thought the sucks * were way cooler than the fish. Good Lord, I love my husband.

* When I proofread this, I realized that I misspelled ducks and that misspelling resulted in the word sucks. Coincidence? I think not. So I left it.

Truly Delightful

The best thing about living in Tennessee so far?

Grey's Anatomy comes on an hour earlier.

ROCK. ON.

I just realized that when they said "9/8 central" on the news that I now live in central time! This brings me great joy and a spark of freedom.

(We just got internet about 2 hours ago, so I am currently going through emails. Thank you for all the well wishes on the move! It has been crazy- of course- and I'll update more soon)

wide eyed and grinning

In honor of the fact that Jeff and I are moving to Tennessee on SATURDAY, I've been playing this little ditty in iTunes all morning.

2008.

You know what I want in 2008?

No, not a baby.

What I want in 2008 is for someone to discretely follow me around and provide a musical soundtrack to my life. Like on The Hills, or Survivor, or any other reality show on television.

Like when Shawnie and I make our weekly trips to the mall my discrete soundtrack guy would follow discretely behind us playing a spunky Hilary Duff song. Or when Jeff and I are about to get our married people thing on, there'd be something like, I don't know, John Mayer playing in the background. And as long as I'm in this little fantasy, let's get me a boob job and he can play "Your (new) Body Is A Wonderland." Or like that time when the total stranger bag boy at Publix invited me to a Whips and Chains party, I would have loved to have underscored that moment with just a loop of Flagpole Sitta, specifically the line that says "only stupid people are breeding."

Since I'm totally shattered that don't have my own reality television show about my fabulous life in suburbia, I surmise that this soundtrack scheme would be the perfect remedy to that. That sentence had some really great alliteration. Really. Read it again.

I honestly think this would be really fabulous. And I'd have my own little intro music a la The Princess Diaries. And when I'm walking down the street all happy- scratch that I live in suburbia. I never walk down the street. When I walk into Target all happy, I'll have some really peppy music, like Jason Mraz accompanying me. And when Target doesn't have the super cute new bar stools I want for our new apartment that I saw online and I walk out of Target bar stool-less and in the depths of despair, it can switch to something sad and mellow. Like Green Day. " I walk a lonely road the only one that I have ever known. Don't know where it goes but it's home to me and I walk alone. I walk this empty street on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams..."  Man, that is so perfect.

This really needs to come to pass for me this year. And also, if we could get Prince William to be my discrete soundtrack guy who also buys me the occasional mocha latte and diamond studded tiaras, that would be great.