Friday Flotsam

FRRRRRIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEDAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEY.

Have I ever told you the glue story?

No, no, this isn’t a dream. It’s an actual true fact event in this life of mine. The glue story. No? Okay, this will be fun.

It was 1996ish, and I was going to college in Abilene, TX for a teensy bit. My dear friend from high school and I were in this duo together, where we both played acoustic guitars and sang harmonies. Think: Indigo Girls meets Elmo and Big Bird. Just kidding! Maybe? We were called the McHardins (<–please don’t listen to the first song because we sing about turning into a freaking butterfly and I simply cannot deal with it.), because I was going to school at Hardin Simmons and she was at McMurry. My dad came up with the title. Isn’t that clever? People always thought we were the Milk Cartons, though. So.

Anyway, it was a Friday night and she dragged me out to some party she was attending. I knew NO ONE, and felt a smidge awkward being there. So like any gal in her late teenage years would do, I found some Elmer’s glue in the kitchen, and proceeded to smear it all over my face. Like, ALL OVER MY FACE. This is not a joke. I stood next to an open window so the white would quickly fade to a clear. Then I turned around, found the cutest boy in the room, walked up to him, tapped his shoulder, and smiled reaaaaaally big.

Yeeeeah, my face looked like the part in Superman where the earthquake opens up and sucks Lois Lane and her car down in it. I looked hot, you guys.

He gasped. I laughed. We left. I laughed more. The end.

I think still it’s the greatest prank of all time. Go, Bev!

You’re like, “I am immediately adding this lunatic to my prayer circle.”

I have new recipe plugin! You can now PRINT. Finally. How lame am I that this is just now happening. Let me know if it works for you, or if you have trouble using it. I still need to go back and update past recipes, but I think I’ll get to that once my kids are potty trained this summer.

OH I KEED.

Probably in the fall.

I have a serious question that I need to ask you. Because something happens to me regularly and I need to know I’m not alone in this world. I mean in this.

I freeze up in the Chipotle line. Like, I get cold sweats when the line behind me gets longer  . . . and longer . . . and longer. And I’m inching towards the front of the line, knowing it’s almost my turn to order. Wait, was it chicken Aaron wanted??? Crap, I think it was barbacoa. Did he want extra corn? Or extra lettuce? Was it a burrito or tacos? Omg was I going to get corn tortillas or flour? OMG, what were we going to have? I can’t remember. Why am I seeing white? Why are my palms mini ponds? My mascara is running and the top of my head is like the inferno WHAT IS GOING ON.

Chipotle line anxiety. Is this a real thing?

I’m thinking about starting a support group to join sufferers in their pain. Of course it would catered by Chipotle. Assuming one of can make it through the ordering process without barfing.

It’s no mystery that Aaron and I watch a lot of forensics shows at night. Matter of fact, we watch this channel dedicated to nothing BUT murder mysteries, cop shows, and forensics. But one thing I’ve noticed lately and may need therapy because of this, are the commercials. Uhhhh, the demographic for these ads makes me feel like sitting and crying for a month straight.

But one recurring commercial is for the Bosley Hair transplants for men. You GUYS, do you know about this? They show before and after pics and that ish is REAL. Listen, they take actual hair from the back and sides of men’s heads and surgically implant them in their bald spots. Isn’t that wildly fascinating??

I need to know more details about this. I seriously want to sit in on a surgery. Of course, like the dweebo that I am, I googled all about it, but they stay pretty vague. My guess is so people won’t faint and vomit on their computers.

But like, HOW do they implant the hair? Do they transplant each hair, one at a time? How long does it take? Are these men under or awake? Do they cut little slits in the head, or is it laser?

Also, the words hair follicles are disgusting and can disappear forever.

But I still want to watch a surgery! I swear I won’t drop a Junior Mint on the person’s head. (<–name that show)

Who’s with me?

. . . Wait, where did you go?

Valentine’s Day plans? I’m going to make some butter tarts today for a client, and then chill tonight with mah wine. Then tomorrow we’ll take the kiddos to one of our favorite chocolate joints and let them pick out a few goodies. Then probably pizza that night. BUT! I’d love to make lobster tail on Sunday, just to spesh it up a bit. Do you have any good lobster tail recipes? If so, hiiiiit meh. I also want to watch a ton of Friday Night Lights but I feel like Aaron would set his eyeballs on fire.

By the way, caaaaan’t get enough. I have so many thoughts about the show, but I’ll save it for next week, once I’ve finished season one! But here’s my recap so far, for those of you wearing impatient pants: LOVE Coach Taylor. Love that he grammatically corrects his players, love his ease, love his thick hair and eyebrows. He makes me want to chew gum. I adore Tami. Her hair reminds me of mine in high school, and I love the shade of pink lipstick she always wears. She’s so tender. But gets it done, right? Riggins can come live in my mouth, but we need to do something about his mop. Tyra – eh. Lyla – pretty, but dumb. Jason – totally crushing. That’s all ya get fer now!

Happy V-day! Wait, that sounds like Venereal day. Never mind.