End of an Era

Tonight was Silver's last high school football game. The last time I'll be forced to watch one of the worst football teams EVAR. For the last four years I've been going to these games like clockwork, all to watch the band. Since it was the last homegame, it was Senior Night, where the senior members of the band and colorguard are recognized. I shouted myself hoarse when Silver's name was announced. I'm so proud I could bust! She's really come a long way since her freshman year!

Here she is with some yahoo throwing around a nerf football in the background (hey, it's not exactly easy to take pictures in a busy venue like a football stadium, okay?!):



I really like this pic, since she has her clarinet, too:



Here's a picture of us together; It only looks like I'm holding onto her for dear life...honestly, I'm ready for her to leave the nest (and if you believe that...)!



Here's the line-up of cheerleaders on their weird boxes/podiums. They only use these during the second half of the game for some reason.



And here's the final picture of us together after the game, before she disappeared into the band room for the last time this season...*sigh*. Next year my life will be totally different, and I have yet to figure out whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. I just don't know.

Use me.

As I was driving my daughter to school this morning a song called "Use Me" by Hinder was playing on my favorite radio station. While I don't much care for the lead singer's voice, the song amuses me, as most songs that are blatantly, in-your-face about sex do.

Here's the song:



And here are the lyrics, in case you can't stomach listening to the end (hey, I know some of you don't like this kind of music!):

She wouldn't spit on me if I was on fire.
She says she loves me, but I know she's a liar.
The sex is good, but God she's got no desire.
That's alright. She's takin' me home tonight.

She's kind of cold, but yet she's hot on the outside.
Last night got nasty and I'm still kind of tongue tied.
I hate to say it, but she brings out my sick side.
That's alright. She's takin' me home tonight.

Chorus:

She's got whole lot of love (Any way you want it)
But it's never enough
(Finish what you started)
Take me to heaven above
(And leave me brokenhearted)
But I won't be a fool and fight it.
She's gonna use me but I like it. Yeah, yeah.

I bet she's wonderin' if I'm worth her while.
She's judge and jury and she's got me on trial.
But I ain't sweatin' cause I'm first on her speed dial.
Yeah, that's right, she's takin' me home tonight.

She always leaves and makes me feel kind of sleazy.
It's kind of cool because she already pleased me.
I'm lying here just thinking this is too easy.
Yeah, that's right, she's takin' me home tonight.

Chorus ad nauseam

ANYway...so we're cruisin' along and a thought occurs to me. I turn to Silver and say, "You know, I could totally sing this song! I could change the genders around and it would work. But how come, when a guy sings it, you chuckle and think what a stud he is, having no-strings sex with a hot babe, but if I sang it, I would come across as a total victim, someone with self-esteem issues who needs lots of therapy?"

Silver sighed, "It's just the old double standard."

Such wisdom, Young Grasshopper!

Thank God I didn't have to massage her...

As I was standing in the doorway of my treatment room yesterday, during a lull in services, I noticed a woman in the locker area getting undressed. Normally I look away in these cases (unless the woman's really smokin' hot), but something on her right shoulder caught my eye.

She had a tattoo of a PENIS with TESTICLES on her back. I repeat: a tattoo of a PENIS with TESTICLES.

In pink.

It wasn't life-sized, or at least I hope it wasn't supposed to be life-sized, but it was still a good four inches long, that's including the sack.

Why? That's all I'd like to know.

Two years.

It was two years ago today that I started this little adventure. Blogging provides me with a wonderful ranting/venting outlet, and a place to share the sometimes odd things I find amusing.

Thanks to all of you wonderful readers and bloggers out there. You encourage and inspire me.

I hope I can continue to do my small part in entertaining YOU.

A picture's worth a thousand words...

Nostalgia

One of the things I remember best about my physical exam before I joined the Air Force (back in the day), was when they were measuring my lung volume and the nurse asked if I was a swimmer.

"No," I replied. "I'm a singer!"

I've always sung in some capacity, whether for my own enjoyment or in various choirs all over the world. Come over some time and I'll show you my scrap book with all the newspaper clippings! One's even in Croatian, and I have no idea what it says.

The past few years have been so hectic and stressful that singing was simply put aside. I'm always so busy that except for during my drive to and from work, I don't sing at all.

Sparrow over at All Atwitter had an interesting post about her choir and a recent performance, and how she regrets that a favorite piece of hers was dropped.

The piece, "Lux Arumque" by Eric Whitacre, is also one of my favorites, but reading about it brought back memories of years ago, when I was a member of the Las Vegas Master Singers.

Here is one of the works that we performed while I was a member(2002-2003), also an especial favorite of mine.

Cloudburst, also by Eric Whitacre.




I know that the piece is very long, but stick with it until the end, please. It's absolutely beautiful and unusual, and it's a joy to sing.

Someday I'll perform onstage again!

(h/t to Sparrow)

Invasion

I was invaded by the Panty Brigade today. The first four massages I had were ladies of a certain age...and they all kept their undies on. And all of said undies were of the type affectionately known as "Granny Panties." Explain to me how I'm supposed to massage your lower back, which you asked me to focus on, if your underwear goes all the way up to your waist?! Granted, I can roll the waistband down a little, but that (literally) only goes so far. And no, I won't massage your glutes by reaching into or under your panties. You're the one who put that barrier there, and I have to respect it. If you want your 'tocks massaged, take the frickin' underwear off BEFORE YOU GET ON THE TABLE. What, it's okay for me to touch it, but God forbid I actually SEE your ass?! Give me a break.

I laughed until I snorted...

upon seeing the following on a client's health form, under "Medications":

Viagra, as needed.

Did I REALLY need to know that?!

Why?

How did the woman in this case in any way, shape, or form help her boyfriend?

Not to mention that he was an illegal immigrant to France, plus had been convicted of crimes on numerous occasions. And he has a wife and kid back in Armenia.

So now the lady's dead, after suffering horrific, self-inflicted pain. And the dude still faces deportation.

I just don't get some people.

Duhr...

I'd like to preface this little tale by reminding you that I'm really, truly NOT blonde, all evidence to the contrary notwithstanding.

The steering in my car has been a little shaky at slow speeds lately, and my tires were looking a little tired (cue rim shot, please), so I called my local Discount Tire today and made an appointment to get the tires checked. You know, tire pressure, check the alignment, making sure I hadn't picked up any nails, etc. I bought all four tires there a while back, so any checks and patching are free. :)

I picked Silver up from school and we headed to the Discount Tire, parked, and went inside.

Wow. We both commented on how the whole interior of the store had changed, that they'd moved around a lot of stuff. Basically it wasn't at all how we remembered it from last year.

I got in line and made my way up to the register, where I told the clerk that I was there for my 2:30 appointment to get my tires checked. He looked at me blankly for a moment, then said, "Tires checked? This is Autozone, the Discount Tire place is next door!"

I knew that.

Uh. Mah. Gah.

Had my first kickboxing class last night after work. I probably never would have done it, but my friend and colleague A. was my exercise buddy and she talked me into it.

What a blast! Yes, it was hard, but I'm happy to say all my recent cardio workouts have paid off, and I had no problem keeping up with the class. The only sour note was struck by my stupid feet. About half-way through the class they started hurting (because I basically have no arch [ugly, remember]), so I was in pain for the rest of the class. The instructor told me I didn't have to do all the bouncing next time. So there's a trade-off, less of a workout for less pain. I'll have to think about it!

Downsides to weight-loss

Not only is it a mixed blessing to lose so much weight that brand-spankin' new pants I bought just a few weeks ago are getting baggy already, but now I'm losing my ass.

And that's not good.

I never want to be straight up-and-down in the back, like my Mom and Grandpa ended up!

More squats, Christina. Do more squats...

Seen in the back window of a car...

A sticker reading:

What if the Hokey Pokey is what it's all about?

Hey, it made ME laugh!

Bulletpoints of Goodness...

'cause I got nuthin' else!

- I massaged a lady the other day, talked her into getting our fall special (a Swedish massage plus European facial for $160, a $40 discount). As I was changing the linen in the treatment room, she stuck her head in the door, holding a $100 bill, telling me she'd run up to the desk to break it so she could give me my tip. I was thrilled, thinking I'd have some good tips to take home, but before I could get too excited about it, she returned and handed me two fives. One for me and one for the esthetician who did her facial!

- A large, middle-aged gentleman I massaged told me upfront he wanted me to focus on his neck and shoulders. He was getting a Swedish massage (light-medium pressure), and I had just started on his shoulders when he said, "Not so hard, please." And he repeated it about four times, as I kept lightening the pressure. I've massaged an 11-year-old girl who wanted more pressure than this guy! I think this was one of the most difficult massages I've ever done, trying to find the balance between making sure the client gets some therapeutic benefit out of it, while making sure he's satisfied I'm not using too much pressure. I was sweating before we were done!

- A victory for the Correct Grammar, Please Club: There's a sign on the wall in the locker room of my gym, above the scale, which used to read, "Turn Scale Off When Your Finished".
It drove me absolutely bonkers. Luckily, a month or so ago, they put a suggestion box in the locker room where one could anonymously make comments or suggestions, so naturally I filled out a form begging for a new, corrected sign. And lo and behold, today it was up! Yay, me! Now to work on getting the "October Birthday's" list fixed...

- My daughter has joined the Young Republicans Club at her high school. The club consists of the teacher in charge and about six or seven student members. Out of a student body in the thousands...
The students spent several hours making flyers and posting them all over the campus, only to come to school the next day to find almost all of them torn down. Apparently, it wasn't only students doing the tearing-down, either. The Young Democrats posters were untouched. What ever happened to free speech?! They had a meeting with the Principal, who promised to do something. We'll see, I guess.

Happy Birthday!

It is the truly magnificent and lovely Phlegm Fatale's birthday, so head on over and give her some love!

Oopsie!

Well, I had another foot-in-mouth moment last night. It was my daughter's homecoming game, and of course I had to go since the marching band was also performing (She'd have killed me dead otherwise!)

Our team actually slaughtered the opponents, 62 to 13, the kind of score I'm used to seeing in reverse!

Anyway, I was walking up to the ticket booth and noticed a bunch of stands set up selling merchandise for school spirit. I had no intentions of buying anything, but one sign caught my attention. It advertised, among other things, pom-poms, garters, and "neckless" (!)

I literally busted out laughing and asked the lady manning the table, while pointing at the sign, "Who the heck made that sign?!"

She replied, beaming, "My daughter!"

Oh.

I said, trying to stifle my snickers, "She spelled "necklaces" wrong. I actually have a neck!" (Yes, that was mean, I know.)

The mom came around the table and spelled out, "N-E-C-K-L-E-S-S... Oh, she forgot the "E-S" at the end to make it plural! Ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Erm. Okay.

The apple obviously did not have far to go in this family.

I forked over two bucks and got some necklaces. It was the least I could do.

Look at me!

Your result for The Classic Dames Test...

Katharine Hepburn

You scored 29% grit, 29% wit, 43% flair, and 17% class!

You are the fabulously quirky and independent woman of character. You go your own way, follow your own drummer, take your own lead. You stand head and shoulders next to your partner, but you are perfectly willing and able to stand alone. Others might be more classically beautiful or conventionally woman-like, but you possess a more fundamental common sense and off-kilter charm, making interesting men fall at your feet. You can pick them up or leave them there as you see fit. You share the screen with the likes of Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant, thinking men who like strong women.


h/t to Breda

So excited!

Five weeks from today...my surgery! W00t!
Whew, glad I got that off my chest, I've been squeeing inside ever since I woke up this morning.
Hope you all have a good week, it's my Saturday today!