Dead Decals & Dexter

I don't get it. 

Either this person is rebelling against the institution of family decals (in which case I salute you), or said person is starving his family to death.

Either way, these things cost money.  In which case it's an automatic lose-lose for the owner of the vehicle.

On a semi-related note (dead bodies), Dexter Season 7 comes back on in September and I'm straight freakin' because I don't have Showtime and can't convince my husband that I NEED it for at least 3 months starting in September. 

Does anyone in Wilmington have Showtime and want a friend to watch Dexter with on Sunday nights?!?!  I'll bring popcorn!

Don't worry, you have 3.5 months to decide!

Sir-iousness

For the past 2 weeks my DVR has tried not to record the Bachelorette, even though I've double-checked that it's setup at least 5 times each Monday.  It's almost like it's trying to tell me that I could be doing better things with my life.  But I don't listen.

I managed to catch the last hour of the show last night, after discovering that Miss DVR was rebelling again.  After a full hour of over-the-top seriousness, hoarse mouse voices, and bunch of gel-heads swearing on their lives that they have Emily's back, I had a revolutionary idea.  Instead of putting a bunch of serious, muscular guys with random jobs like "Mushroom Farmer" in a house to win the love of an almost-widower, why not let a normal girl with a sense of humor go on non-Disney inspired dates with other, regular guys with a sense of humor.  A little laughter never hurt anything, especially TV ratings.

Have you ever heard of the Romantic Comedy?  I hear those do pretty well.  Swap the date where Jef is being instructed on how to drink proper British Tea, and send two people, prone to laughing their asses off, to a bowling alley with pitchers of beer and pizza.  Trust me, that's a real date.  And I can tell you from lots and lots of experience that bowling plus beer = gut busting laughs, even if not an eternal love connection.  Especially if you frequent the ones in Northern Virginia that are inexplicably segregated into blacks and whites.  That's funny stuff people!  ABC take a cue.  Hell, take the idea!  Just don't send a beautiful girl with the personality of a hand towel to Bermuda and tell me it's real love.

Adjustments

I'm in the midst of a pretty epic treatment involving multiple-sessions of chiropractic care per week and a $25 copay each time.  I am 100% certain those copays are adding up, 50% certain it is helping, 50% certain it is a crock of shit, and 1,000,000% sure that there is a class in Chiropractor school that teaches just metaphors about backs.

A few of my favorites are, "You know, you back is like..."

- A squeaky gate that you have to oil up over time to make it open properly.

- The Tin Man.  You have to gradually oil up all of your parts before you loosen up.

- A hair part.   You have to train it over time to change sides.

All metaphors attempting to justify why it is necessary for me to come ALL the damn time to the chiropractor to help straighten out my back and lessen my sciatic nerve <s>pain</s> hell.  I'm not necessarily buying it, but I am very necessarily desperate so I'll give it a little more time.

By the way, when I interrupted the Dr. (???) to tell him that I had, in fact, successfully changed my part to the opposite side, he was astounded and very impressed.  I hope he is not as shocked at his own success.

Question of the Day: Have you ever been to a Chiropractor?  Do you believe that they work??  Do you think I'm crazy for trying it?  I'm still totally undecided.

*Clearly that is not me pictured above.  I never dress down to just my belted slacks.  In life or at the Chiropractor.



Driving Miss Ferry Confused

Yesterday I had to drive to Southport for work.  I've never been by car, and my GPS is 7 years old, so I went by Mapquest directions on the way there. 

On the way back, I decided to just go with my GPS since I wasn't in a hurry.  I went about 5 miles in the other direction before happening upon Fort Fisher Blvd, which you can only take by ferry.

Come on GPS!!  I know GPS years are like dog years and that you are very, very outdated, but throw me a bone here.  If I am about to have to drive my vehicle on to a boat for an hour+/-, I'm going to need to know that so I can load up on snacks.  I'm ok with you not knowing about the most recent traffic circle, but taking me by sea - not OK.

Needless to say I did an immediate U-turn, coming back the way I came (+ an additional 10 miles from the almost-ferry-confusion).

In other sneaky news, I just saw a car get pulled over by a light green Chevy Traverse.  That's fighting dirty, cops!  You must at least reveal yourself!

Snack Attack!

I just found a new snack.  And it is delicious!

It's extremely low in calories for the ample serving size, it comes with a full bag (Baked Lays, I'm talking to you!), and it puts Pirate's Booty to shame - in that it actually tastes like something and doesn't leave little corn nodules in your teeth.

The best part about it is that it's resealable.  It's like a chastity belt for over-eaters.  If I seal it, doesn't that mean I won't go back for seconds??  At least it's a good idea in theory.

I believe I found this in my cracker aisle, not the chip aisle, but I can't be sure.  It's in one of the two aisles and it is a must try!

Mother nature would object

Sometimes I think I only want to have boys because I already have two great names picked out, my genes and my jeans are better suited for a manly physique, and because my husband might freak out if he has to one day play Barbies and sip air-tea.

And then other times I think I only want to have boys because of things like this:

http://m.wect.com/autojuice?targetUrl=http%3a%2f%2fwww.wect.com%2fstory%2f18638335%2fteens-turning-to-vodka-tampons-to-get-drunk

This brings a lot of terrible things to mind, like WTF is wrong with these people!? 

But mostly I wonder who the first person to instigate this fad was and how that came to happen.  To me it's like the discovering the first pineapple.  Who would ever look at it and think, "Oh yes, that spiky, prickly bulbous is going to taste like God's gift to the tropics!"

And who would ever think, "Hey, you know what would be a more streamlined way to turn into a babbling drunk mess!?  Let's soak some tampons in Vodka then put them in our vajayays!"

I guess sometimes being "creative" is actually a character flaw.  Don't try to be the Steve Jobs of getting drunk quickly.  It will not make you a millionaire.

Also, I feel bad for the person who unknowingly drinks the remnants of the tampon soaked Vodka.  I'll readily admit that I stole liquor from my parents when I was in high school, but at least I had the decency to refill the bottles with water, not feminine products.

Bitches be crazy.