Thank you, thank you.

I'll take my bow in advance for gracing you all with a new post. Ha!

Top 5 things that are new with me:

1. I got a new car in September.

2. I cooked (well, helped) my first Thanksgiving dinner this year.

3. I'm almost finished cleaning/organizing my "junk room" (see post from March/April).

4. I bought a Kitchen-Aid mixer and have made 2 HUGE batches of cookies and 1 pan of my mom's DELICIOUS cinnamon twists.

5. I'm actually dreaming of a White Christmas (it's not the same without it).

So, in all seriousness, the reason I decided to finally sign on and type away happened to me tonight. I ran to the grocery to stock up on my primary staple (Lean Cuisines) because my freezer was bare and my fridge was even barer (?). I had a basket that was full of food (still no more than 15 items) when I walked up to the express checkout lane. There was one lady paying for her loot, the next person in line had her basket right next to the cashier, and then a couple of feet down was a pile of candy. The pile was just sitting there with no owner. Soon enough, the second lady was checking out and being the next human in line, I moved my basket ahead of the pile. About 5 seconds before I started checking out, this very unpleasant excuse of a woman came up behind me and said "I was ahead of you." So I retorted, "You left." Then, she looked me in the eyes and said,"I'm going next." So I replied, "Um... I didn't know that you could save a place in line with your candy, fatass."

Alright, I didn't really say that, but I wanted to. Instead, I said, "Oh, you are?" After she said very matter of factly, "Yes, I am," I gave up. I said "That's fine. I'm in no hurry," and let her go ahead of me. UNBELIEVABLE, RIGHT?!

It's so funny to me how some people just have NO manners whatsoever. I mean, do you think I would have cared at all if she came back to her place in line and said "I'm in a big hurry because I almost lost an ounce of water weight today and I need more bon bons to eat before I lose another one, so do you mind if I have my place back?" Ugh.

On the flip side, I became very popular in the grocery story almost immediately. Complete strangers were apologizing to me for fatty's outstanding class. Ah well.

Slurry in a Hurry

I stopped by 7-11 on my way back to work from lunch yesterday because I was extremely grouchy and need a pick-me-up. I went for "the usual" Dr. Pepper and Laffy Taffy. As stupid as the jokes are, Laffy Taffy always seems to brighten my day.

The worst joke ever: What do you call a fly with no wings?

Dun, dun, dun...

A walk.

So, after I got back to work, I was reading the lame jokes to my co-worker who never ceases to make me question every ingredient in the food I eat. I decided to take a look at the ingredients in Laffy Taffy and one of them caught me off guard: sodium alginate. My first thought was "salty algae?" and then I found out it's even worse -- Thank you Wikipedia!

"...the pimento stuffing in prepared cocktail olives is usually injected as a slurry at the same time that the stone is ejected; the slurry is subsequently set by immersing the olive in a solution of a calcium salt which causes rapid gelation by electrostatic cross-linking. A similar process can be used to make "chunks" of everything from cat food through "reformed" ham or fish to "fruit" pieces for pies."

When the words used to describe a food additive are "slurry" and "chunks" I would rather steer clear. And, so begins a life without my favorite candy...

Oh yeah, and people wonder why I hate green olives?

Movies From My Past

I’m sitting here watching Three Men and a Baby and can’t help but think about all of the awesome movies that helped shape my childhood. I spent many a sleepover with friends and cousins watching these.

I am sure that I will leave some out, but here goes (in no particular order).

Honey I Shrunk the Kids
Batteries Not Included
Three Men and a Baby
The Great Outdoors
Look Who’s Talking
Summer School
Little Monsters
Captain Ron
Uncle Buck

Karate Kid
Sister Act

Gremlins
Mr. Mom
Ghost
Clue

There is nothing better than watching these movies as an adult and realizing that 1) my parents were crazy for letting me watch this smut; 2) clothes in the 80s/early 90s really were freaking awesome, although I would never want to dress like that again; 3) the backdrops and sets were even better than the clothes were; 4) I must have an amazing memory to still know most of the lines and the songs; 5) some of the storylines are soooo stupid, yet soooo classic!

Is it a Gripe or an Epiphany?

Today, I realized the vicious cycle that is hair product. You’ve read before that I am a complete snob about my flat iron. With that, I have also been a snob about hair product. I’m sure my family is laughing at this one because they remember the days of me writing my name on my shampoo and conditioner and throwing tantrums when I could smell that someone used MY products in the bathroom. Well, I have a feeling that change might be coming…
Over the weekend, I went on a little vacation and did not want to check my luggage, so I carried my bag onto the plane. As I was preparing for the trip (with one of my notorious packing lists) I noted all of the things that I would normally pack in my toiletry bag: full-size name brand shampoo, conditioner, pomade, hairspray, lotion, toothpaste, etc. I found some travel-size shampoo and conditioner at home, but could not locate a small enough bottle of my hairspray to take on the plane, so I just ran to the grocery store to buy some. I winced at the “brand” because I wasn’t buying it from a salon, but decided that it was only for a couple of days and I’d live.
The next day, while at my hotel, I finished styling my hair (with my CHI, of course!) and got the bland-brand hairspray out and spritzed it on. Against my expectations, my hair held up just fine and my fly-aways stayed down as much as they could have. I usually wash my hair every-other-day so that I don’t have to take the time doing it and frying it each day. Normally, by the middle of the second day, my hair is pretty grease-nasty. This time, I made it on an airplane and through the entire next day without my hair looking any different.
Now, for the epiphany: I pay more (about $14) for a salon/name brand bottle of hairspray – my hair gets greasy, I have to wash it more often, and use more hairspray. They make me keep coming back for more by having a thick spray that weighs down my fly-aways and smells delicious, but it makes my hair greasier than it should be. As opposed to the cheap $4 bottle from the grocery store that did its job and got me through way more than I would have expected.
I think life was much easier when the only option was Aquanet!

Stupid Cupid

So last night, I had quite the adventure. I went on a date. Not just any date -- one where the guy admitted to me that he didn't want to go to a restaurant and "spend $60 on a stranger, when we can make perfectly good steaks on the grill." I agree with the logic, and I really didn't mind going to his house to make dinner (which turned out to be quite tasty,btw). However, why would you admit that? Strike one.

Now that I've roped you in, I'll give you a bit of background. If you read my blog a few weeks ago, you will know that I've decided not to date younger guys anymore. The only problem with that is that older guys in Utah all have kids/ex-wives/etc. Being the non-judger that my mama raised me to be, I'm going to give them a chance, anyway. I met Mister (that's what I'll call him for the sake of his own embarrassment, although I don't think he'll ever read this) at the bachelorette party last weekend. He was cute, nice and very honest about his lack of dating experience since the separation from his wife, so I decided I'd give him a shot. It was an interesting decision.

Back to my story... We were sitting on his deck, swinging on his chair while the steaks were cooking. Perfect time to get to know more about each other -- you know: where we grew up, where we went to school, how we got into our careers, the normal stuff. Instead, Mister decides to go on and on about every single girl he's met and dated and "had intimacy with" (yes. those are his exact words. he said them about 900 times in the course of the night, too). Strike two.

While telling me about these girls, he described how he let one of them know that he was no longer interested: he told her that he's not in the place right now to get serious and date only one person and that he's still healing from his separation. I have used many excuses in the past to let people know I'm not interested, so I laughed it off and told him that he's lucky he can pull that card.

We decided to throw in a movie while we were eating dinner. His pick was Pearl Harbor. He asked me if I've seen it and I said no (leaving out the part that I didn't see it because I heard it was horribly boring). I am pretty critical of movies, and I could not get into PH at all, so we just kept talking. Mister decided to give me a little bit of dating advice: Cathy, if you have intimacy with a guy you just met, and he stops calling you, it means he wasn't really interested in you.

NEWSFLASH -- I think that's first thing I learned about dating ten years ago! Not that I was "having intimacy" ten years ago, but come on. I just laughed that off, too, thinking about how badly I felt for this guy and anyone who comes in contact with him. Foul ball!

We took a break from the movie and went to go get a refill on drinks and let his dog out. We were standing around talking and all of the sudden he goes "So, am I supposed to ask if I can kiss you?" I just replied "you are supposed to do whatever you want to do." Ugh. Why, why, why did he have to ask that?

If you want to kiss me, kiss me. He didn't kiss me. Strike three.

The night wrapped up and he brought me home. He pulled up to my house and put his car in park, and I thanked him for dinner and such. All of the sudden he starts saying, "I am in a place right now where I don't want to date any one person or get serious and I have a lot of things that I still need to work through..." I started cracking up thinking that he was making a joke, but then realized he was still talking so I turned to him and said, "Wait. You're being serious?!?" He proceeded to blabber on about his dramatic life and finally I told him thanks again and got out of the car and walked inside.

Game over!

My Birfday

Thanks for all of the calls, texts and cards for my birthday. I had a good time. I laid pretty low the day/night before since the awesome weather ruined my plans to go ring in the big day up the canyon with some of my friends. Instead, I threw on some jammies and read a book (yes, I read a book) and went to bed somewhat early. I woke up from Nicole texting me, and that was followed up from a call from Eric (my Secret Service boyfriend, but not really boyfriend). Although I hadn't talked to him in almost a month, I knew he'd call me on my birthday. Funniest part -- we spoke for almost 20 minutes without any mention of the big day and he'd done the exact same thing on my 25th birthday. After we got off the phone, I sent him a text reminding him to tell his ex-wife happy birthday since oddly enough, she was also born on June 7th. I kid you not, but about a minute later he called me grovelling. I really enjoyed it, although I kind of feel like a brat for admitting that.

Around noon, Jessica, her fiance Dave and our friend Jonathan came over and we went to brunch at the Porcupine. I love their greek omelet and hadn't been for a while. It was a lot of fun and great conversation, as always. Topic of the day was odd athletic talents. If you could choose the strangest Olympic sport to be in, what would it be?

After brunch, Jonathan insisted that I couldn't have a birthday without a birthday cake, so we ran to BR to get an ice cream cake. If anyone reading this knows me, I shouldn't have to tell you what kind of cake I chose, but I will anyway: Oreo. And, it was delicious. Well, as delicious as an ice cream cake that's been sitting for who knows how long in BR's freezer can actually taste. I was extremely appreciative and I have the extra 5 lbs on my caboose to prove that I enjoyed it immensely :-)

After the crew left, I hung out waiting for my food to digest. Jen and I were meeting up with Nicole and Shannon a couple hours later at Stoneground for their yummy pizza Sunday. If you have not been, I highly recommend it, although they only do it on Sunday, so some of you who read this will be struck by lightening if you go. For the rest of you, it's great. It's kind of like Rodizio Grill where they just bring around different kinds of pizza, ranging from squash and eggplant, to your basic pepperoni. If you can't make it on a Sunday, their normal menu is also super tasty! There's my plug for one of my fav restaurants! Maybe they'll read this and I'll get some sort of kickback. Riiiiight.

I thought my birthday ended on Sunday, but last night Jeff and Bonnie were thoughtful enough to try to get me drunk and take me to see The Hangover. I didn't touch anything but water (won't be writing about that part, but I'll just say that the 311 concert and the bachelorette party leading up to Saturday were fun enough). However, I did let them buy my ticket to the movie -- best bday present ever! That movie is HILARIOUS!

Almost as hilarious as the clip you'll see if you click on this link. Hello Zack Morris!

http://www.latenightwithjimmyfallon.com/video/clips/saved-by-the-bell-reunion-update-3-6809/1121321/

Click here to sign a petition for a SAVED BY THE BELL REUNION!

http://www.latenightwithjimmyfallon.com/exclusives/petition/

Quick Updates

To follow in the footsteps of my younger sister, I've decided to catch y'all up on my life. Not much is different these days, but I think that's a good thing!

I think my sinuses are still healing and allergies don't seem to be helping much. It's still WAY better than it was before. I can usually breathe out of one nostril, if not both. Yay for me. Hah.

Jenny is abandoning me and our apartment in a couple of weeks. Sharing an apartment is much funner (yes, funner) than sharing a bedroom with her. Maybe it's that we've had almost 10 years of space from the 15 spent sharing. We have gotten along great with the exception of 1-2 outbursts or annoyances. We have also become much closer. I'll miss having her around. That being said, if anyone knows someone cool who needs a room to rent, please let me know. No princesses or drama-seekers allowed.

Work is the same. I think I got a promotion a few months ago, but have not seen the fruits of it, nor the official title change, so I'm not exactly sure :-S. I am very grateful to have a job, though, so I really shouldn't complain... much.

I turn "old" in a couple of days. I know it's still a couple years away, but I'm almost thirty! The older I get, the younger I feel. Er, um. One thing is for sure: I'm sick of dating guys who are younger than I am. That's not going to happen again. I was at a party last weekend talking to a guy who turned out to be 24! Yes, 24! Needless to say, I wanted to run for the hills.

I went to St. George with a bunch of people over Memorial Day. It was almost too much fun. We stayed at Jeff's dad's house and camped out in the garage. The weekend was full of hanging by the pool, walking/hiking around, and good company.

Here are a couple of pics from the hike we took as soon as we unloaded the car. I'm sure you'll notice the clouds in the sky. It actually started pouring rain on us on the way back down. Before leaving for the hike, everyone thought I was crazy for saying I could get by wearing my Reefs instead of shoes. Not only did I kick that hike's ass, I didn't have soggy/muddy shoes and socks to walk home in. Take that! Reefs for life!

I'm ba-ack!

When I was thinking of what to name this post, the first thing that came to mind was the song Adam Sandler sings in Billy Madison. "Back to school! Back to school, to prove to Dad that I'm not a fool! I got my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight, I hope I don't get in a fight!" I refrained to titling it that, though, in effort to prevent any crazy questions about me going back to school. That is not going to happen. Ever. Well, unless I willfully decide to go insane.

Anyway, the surgery went well. I really appreciate all of the texts, calls and visitors this week. I thought I'd be bored by staying home for 10 days straight, but now I really don't want to go back. 14 hours until I'm back in the office. Yippee!

The day of the surgery went by quickly. Well, it went by quickly as soon as I was put under. Leading up to it was rough. As most know, when you're going under general anesthesia, you can't eat any food after midnight prior to surgery. I was not scheduled to get to the surgical center until 11:15 the next morning, so I was pretty hungry. I got 2 hours of sleep the night before because I was freaking myself out over the idea of being solely at my doctor's will. In an effort to curb the nerves, I kept making jokes to myself and others about waking up in a few weeks and finding out I'm pregnant with an Asian baby (my doc is Asian). Needless to say, I didn't like waiting around for the inevitable all morning.

My mom and I got to the hospital/surgical center and checked in at 11. I had a short interview with a med assistant/student, and then with a nurse. The nurse checked my white blood cell count and of course my finger bruised up immediately -- that shit hurts! Then I went into my waiting room and was given a gown, some bottom scrubs and some freakish socks with tread on both sides. I held out the scrubs in front of me and was 99% sure that everyone who reads this blog could have all fit inside them. Yes, everyone together. They were freaking huge. I got dressed and took my glasses off and sat down in a chair across from my mom. I don't have terrible vision, but the lack of glasses and more so the lack of food had me getting dizzier and dizzier with each second. Not to mention, those hospital gowns have the trippiest design on them and when they are the only thing close enough to focus your sight on -- wheweeee!

Eventually, the anesthesiologist came in. I think that all anesthesiologists are old men with white hair that like to make the same jokes with all of their patients. This guy fit the mold, for sure. He was very kind though. He couldn't find a vein in my hand, so he put the IV needle on my inside wrist bone, hooked me up to the saline solution bag and we started walking. Into my doom. He introduced me to the two surgical nurses who helped me lay down on the operating table. They placed warm blankets on top of me and started asking me where I work. I saw the white-haired doctor grab a syringe and stick it in my IV. Before I could say much more about my job, I was waking up in another room gasping for air.

A nurse walked right over to me and said hello and then asked me how I was doing. The first words (or mumbles) out of my mouth were "Um, I think I need a breathing treatment." Soon enough, I was breathing normally and was being spoon-fed a popsicle mixed with Sprite. That was yummy. Mmmm. Food. The nurse asked if I wanted a painkiller, and as I was warned about the aftermath of the surgery by the nurse who bruised my ring finger, I willingly accepted. 2 percocets and about 40 mins later, I was given my clothes and told I could leave. I took the once-warmed blankets off of me to change, and what did I see? The drawstring to my scrubs was undone. Hmmmm. I'll keep you all posted on that one.

I got home at about 6:30 and went straight to my bed. Where I stayed. For 2 straight days. I had everything I needed in my room. Percocet, check. Laptop, check. Cell phone, check.

My goal for the week was to lose some weight. I knew I wouldn't eat much for the first few days and I was hoping that I'd make a habit out of it. My staples from Friday through Tuesday were mini saltines (if you've never had them, go buy some right now), snack pack pudding (another Billy Madison reminder), lots of water, and lots of painkillers. I lost 6 pounds.

Monday afternoon, I had a follow-up appointment with my doctor. I was violently violated. It was the absolute worst pain I've ever experienced. Basically, he had to go back into my orifices and clean out all of the blood that had accumulated. Cleaning consists of sticking a long, skinny metal flashlight in my nose along with a suction tube. When I say "sticking", I really mean weaving through whatever cartilage, tissue and muscles necessary to get to my sinuses. With nothing but a topical anesthetic. Ouch.

I have to go back on Tuesday for another round. Can't wait.

After all of the graphic descriptions and complaining, I must say that as long as I get my way, it will have all been worth it. I really appreciated tasting my chicken pesto sandwich at dinner last night. I have also caught up on eating some of my Easter candy (was -6 lbs, now most likely +9). And, at brunch today, I could smell the exhaust from the motorcycle crew outside the bar. Though, I don't normally get excitement out of smelling exhaust from 20 feet away, I was stoked. Hopefully things stay that way!

What a novel! I need a nap.

Getting Older...

It dawned on me tonight that I must really be getting old. For the past 2 weeks, I've been back to my normal shift at work. With the exception of last week's ultimate craziness, I've been chilling in bed forcing myself to stay awake at least until 9 every night. Yep. It's 8:43 PM and I'm in my PJs, teeth brushed, face washed and ready to crash. You'd think that I'd want to party like a rockstar since I'm going to be out of commission for the next week, but nope. I guess I might as well get used to sleeping non-stop.

OK, that's a lie. I am hoping that I will have enough energy next week to do some serious cleaning. I have boxes and boxes to go through from the past 5 times I've moved and I'm ready to get rid of LOTS of junk. If anyone wants boxes of old text books, or clothes from 1998 that will never be worn again, let me know.

Why on Earth did I once feel that it was necessary to keep this shit? WHY???

Amy tagged me on a post that was 10 not-so-cute things about me.. well you've now read about two of them! I think that's enough for now. A girl's gotta have a little pride, right?

You're kidding me, right?

I have not and will not ever stop enjoying Dave Matthews Band, but I am officially joining a one-woman protest against his concerts. All I can say is that I draw the line at spending $50 for a freaking lawn ticket. Each year he comes it gets more expensive. I was so excited to go last year, and then the concert was cancelled. Don't you think that if you're going to cancel a concert one year, you should keep your ticket price the same so that the people who paid to see you have the same chance? Seriously. UGH! It makes me so sad. Sad and mad!

I've been officially let down.

The verdict is in.

I know you've all been dying to find out! All 4 of the sinuses on my right side have nastiness as well as 2 on my left side. I also have a deviated septum which might have to be corrected in order for the doctor to fix the rest. What does that mean, ladies and gentlemen? I am having surgery on 6 sinus cavities and my septum!

It all goes down on Good Friday, April 10th. Do you think the Easter Bunny will still come visit me?

This is my brain...

Since the beginning of December, I've been sick. Stuffy, grouchy, congested, sick. I've been on 4 rounds of antibiotics and steroids, and had 2 CT scans only to determine that I have nasty nasal polyps and will need surgery. I've become a bit fascinated by it all.

According to other CT scans that I've looked at online, I think the middle part of the image is normal, but it's the greyish lining around the black holes in my cheeks that are the polyps. I have an appointment with the ENT doctor on Monday, so we'll see if I'm right!

Happy Birthday, Dad!

I'm a little embarrassed to say, but one of the songs I remember most from going to church when I was little is "Daddy's Homecoming". In case you've forgotten the song, it goes something like this:

Although my family didn't, and still doesn't, show much emotion (I'm an anomaly), I remember singing it and thinking about how much fun it was. Not only to give my dad a big hug, but to have him swing us around and let us do flips off of him.

Afterall, the man is 6'4!

He'd also throw us up on his shoulder and spin us around saying, "Where's Heather, Sarah, Cathy, Jenny, Lizzie, Allysa, Whoever?" even though he was probably as bored and tired as could be.

I don't think my dad ever learned how to tell his girls "no" and he still pretty much does anything we ask. Either my mom trained him well, or we are just super lucky!
Love ya, Dad!