Now THAT is will power!

Recently, my sister, my friend Diana, and I all started a diet. Its pretty harsh but we've done it with good results before. This time, however, none of us are doing all that well as is illustrated by the following IM between my sister and I today:

Lore: I am in one heck of a funk... it sucks.. Hey I am cheating today for lunch. Work is buying Olive Garden.

Me: Ok. I am cheating today for dinner... going to Red Rock Brewery before the concert. But I'm having a salad.

Lore: If you're gonna cheat tonight so can I. I'll have a salad.. with pasta on the side and maybe a breadstick

Me: Get some protein

Lore: I don't think they are ordering any of that.

Me: ... Bad you.

Lore: I know... (head hanging down)

Me: Can't say anything tho. I have been super bad the last two days. Think I gained two pounds

Lore: Me too. Only 1 though

Me: (head hanging lower) Too much fruit... extra crap... just bad.

Lore: I broke all the rules and had Bajio. I was pissed at the world.

Me: LOL...Yeah? Well Diana and I split a ten piece chicken nugget.

Lore: lol, Protein! Did you dip?

Me: Yeah! Protein! That's what we said anyway. Yes. We dipped. ::sigh::

Lore: LOL negative protein! I had chips and queso.

Me: Ha!! I had ice cream bon bons.

Lore: I told you I took out my frustration out on my diet and ...you had WHAT! That is way off the chart!!

Me: I had these little Dove bon bons... two a day. I should just go and kill myself.

Lore: I am going to eat a Girl Scout cookie right now just to be even!

Me: FINE... I had three nut clusters from Costco already!

Lore: Shut up! I have not had a single drop of water today! Other than when I brushed my teeth anyway.

Me: ME EITHER!!

Lore: GREAT. We are such good unmotivational partners. We should be on our own poster.

Me: Amen Sister.

Pain and irritation aren't really my style

 

Just a few things of note:

 

Lately every time I shave I need a freakin blood transfusion.  And while we're in that vein of conversation why do razors cost their weight in gold?  Is there something I don't know?  Are the blades coated in platinum or something???  But I've learned my lesson.  Although the simple single blade razors are cheap and extremely sharp, they also sever arteries and so I guess I WILL be shelling out the eight dollars for the three pack of Venus again.  Maybe after I will go frolick on the beach with some sheer fabric and a couple girlfriends.  I guess that's what poor people with soft, smooth legs do.

 

And finally, after five days of glorious spring weather its gonna snow and rain again.  I'm so ready for summer.  I want to go shoot blooming orchards and wear flip flops.  This disappoints me greatly.  Perhaps I can hold off on those razor purchases after all.  I'll need the extra insulation.

 

Maybe its better if you're smoking a joint?

You know what I miss? Black Angus. We used to make a 15 minute freeway drive because there wasn't a decent steakhouse in our area. Great steaks, the most amazing baked potato soup, a smashing Caesar. You know, good stuff. Then sadly a couple years ago they all closed up shop and POOF were gone.

Let us speak a bit about Texas Roadhouse if you will.

About a year ago Texas Roadhouse opened a location five minutes from our home. We have been on several occasions. I'm not a complete hater, as a matter of fact we went there for dinner last night, but I do have a couple beefs (please excuse the pun) with this joint.

I have a problem with the peanuts shells strewn casually all over THE ENTIRE RESTAURANT. I get that lil treats keep the hungry masses from turning on you and attacking your staff. That, however, seems to be in ample supply (every time I'm there I swear they have one staff member for every two patrons which is all fine and dandy but when they run out of stuff to do they walk the aisles prowling and flirting with each other, commenting on the adorableness of the others' studded jeans. No wonder the back of their T shirts desperately proclaim "I love my job!!" Why wouldn't they?). The peanuts kind of gross me out. Specially when I have to wade through them in my flip flops possibly catapulting shells in my wake all the way to my table.

Once at my table I have to yell over the cacophony of Boot Scootin Boogie and the wailing of Hootie minus The Blowfish to fellow diners. Then I stare blankly at our server while attempting to read his lips because I can't understand more then five words at a time. I get,"Cherry." "Cheese," and "Sooooo gooood." After that I just nod and smile. That place is LOUD. So if you were hoping on having a conversation, forget it. Two painfully shy people would find this the perfect place for first date dinner after a Bruckheimer movie.

After ordering I get to sit and stare at the likes of jackalope, burro blankets and Willie Nelson. Yeah I know its your restaurant Willie (which explains the twangy country and the fact that the staff will do a line dance to Jessica Simpson's These Boots Were Made For Walkin ) but why do I have to look at your ugly mug while eating? The food is decent. The steak is usually cooked how you ask for it. And if you wanna pay 2 dollars to have six mushrooms on it, well they can help you out there too. Lastly we have the Roadhouse birthday song that the staff screams at the top of their lungs and usually wraps up with an ear shattering "Yeeeeee Haaaaaaa!!!". Don't even get me started on how much I detest dining establishments that sing to customers.

So why do you ask? Why after all that negativity do I still go here?? Why do I complain about everything and still brave the crusted peanut shells between my toes at the table?

Because of these little darlings:

The honey butter rolls at Texas Roadhouse are my bitchy cryptonite. I LOVE them. I can honestly say I wanted to go there last night for these little piping hot carb balls and NO OTHER REASON. Thats it.

Favorite thing of the week

Up till now, to the amazement (and horror) of some fellow photographers, I have only used Photoshop Elements. My sister gave Me CS4 for Christmas and I have it finally loaded onto my computer. It is both the same and different. A pain and a joy. But I am really looking forward to mastering some of it and putting it to good use. I am in the market for a very nice looking black and white action. If anyone knows where to get one that is really lovely let me know, I'd be forever grateful!!

Yesterday I went and shot my lovely niece in the yuckiest dirty air day ever. It actually was probably helpful in most cases and if we had only got done beautifying Courtney earlier we could have hit several different spots. In the meantime here is a couple sneak peaks of Court channeling her inner Miley. Minus the smoker voice.

I can't control it. Its in my genes.

I'm a good driver. Albeit a bit of a lead foot.

I almost never go over 30 in a residential area. I obey all non-speed related traffic laws. And despite that one tiny little transgression, I feel like I am a conscientious and courteous driver.

Oh... as long as you're not an idiot. I forgot that part.

Unfortunately for the rest of you on the road, whether or not you fall into that category is completely decided upon by me. You know, like how deep I am in the clutches of a particularly evil brand of PMS, whether or not you are slowing me down, cutting me off, just generally irritating me by not turning off your blinker or all manner of other things.

I'm kinda a brat like that.

There is the one thing I do however that I cannot deny: I speed like a bat out of hell.

Mainly I save this behavior for the freeway. On average I go 75 mph but it would only be because the person in front of me is slowing me down or I can see UHP ahead. Normally I coast along at about 80. This works for me. I cannot fathom driving all of anywhere at 65. How do those people get anywhere on time?! Hmmm... I guess possibly they start earlier. Bunch of weirdos. But anyway.. really what I'm trying to get at here is that its not my fault.

Its genetic.

My grandpa Cliff once got a ticket for leaving a red light at too high a rate of speed. Apparently no one was gonna beat his Caddy out of the gate. My grandpa Lamar always was a bit heavy on the gas pedal and always beat everyone to wherever they were going. And my mom.... well lets just say that if we're both going down State Street and she doesn't hit traffic---all I see are tail lights (luckily the tailgating she performs either ISN'T genetically passed on or it skips generations).

So there you have it. Next time I get pulled over, I'm trying this defense. How do you think it will go?

I'm Needy!!

I recently read that to cultivate a blog following you really need to have new content every single day. For some reason creating a blog following is really attractive to me. You know, loads of people scattered across the country reading my oh so witty banter over their McCafe on an otherwise bleak work day and finding a little joy in it. ::sigh::

Of course the obvious bonus would be funneling some towards my photography business and getting work at the same time.

But that aside I cannot understand my compulsion for having readers. Do I have a strong need to get my important message out?? Well, one would first need a message. Considering I'm pretty liberal, completely anti-political, and have no cause I can think of other then my newly stated desire to stamp out the donning of all Croc footwear and getting that Urban kid booted off Idol, my soapboxes are few. Or should I say random. I guess in all likelyhood, my only goal is a scatterbrained blog with humerous insights into life and some photography thrown in the mix.

While the idea of new content everyday seems like an impossibility to me, I am vowing to work on getting closer to that goal. Will my blog posts turn into more drivel like this? Probably. Hopefully that's still enough for my very own blog following. I don't need much. Just enough that when I say unavoidable stuff that insults people, like how I don't care for Twilight or use the term "pimped out" that I still have leftovers. That works for me, 'cause thats how I roll.