First Post of About a Thousand About My Free Trip to LA

Ok. To sum up: Two weeks ago I entered to win a trip to LA to see the We Can Survive concert at the Hollywood Bowl. I won. Yeah. I know, right? So I call up my BFFFFF Jenifer. She's in. Awesome. We're off to Hollyweird. This first post is our first and second stops after leaving LAX.

Venice Beach: I'd never seen the Pacific. It was impressive. And cold. The day could not have been better; blue skies, salty breeze, 75 sunny degrees. We walked the beach, enjoyed the view, and collected some big ass sea shells. Here are my favorite photos from Venice Beach.

                                                   A cool sign. I think it lights up at night.

                                                Weird art on the side of a building.

                                                    Metal V for Venice. Or maybe it's one of
                                                      those compass thingies. Reminds me
                                                      of the latest Maroon 5 album.

                                        First selfie of many we took. Jenifer is on the left.
                                          I, with all of my chins, am on the right.

                                          First time in the Pacific. This is as far as I went.

                                                 She didn't know I took this picture. It
                                                     may be one of my favorites.

                                          Sail boat and some rocks. Just wait for it.....

                                                              Wait for it.......

                                                            Wait for it......

                                      BAM! Awesomeness. Except for the asshole that ran
                                         into the frame as I was shooting it. People always
                                         fuck up good pictures. People and poles.


So that was Venice Beach. Next we drove a little ways up the coast to Santa Monica. The view was even more spectacular there. You could see for miles and miles. It was more crowded than Venice Beach but probably because of the pier and the surfers. Yeah. Actual surfers. Behold....

                                          The famous Santa Monica Pier sign. Well, I guess
                                                                it's famous.

                                            Here's the pier. I'm fairly certain it's famous.

                                               Fun fact: The pier is the end of the Rte 66.
                                                  Of course, all I know about Rte 66 is from
                                                                   the movie Cars.

                                               Beach. The sand is much different than the
                                         Atlantic or the Gulf. It's soft and very deep and
                                          hurts your calf muscles if you're out of shape. (I am)

                                                                     More beach.

                                                                And still more beach.

                                             Real honest to God surfers. Actually surfing!

                                       Santa Monica selfie. Jenifer is on the left this time.

So, this completes our tour of Venice Beach and Santa Monica. Honestly, it all still feels very surreal that I was even there. Anyway, next post will be of the hotel we stayed at and Grauman's Chinese Theater and the famous people's hands and feet.

What The Hell Did I Get Myself Into?!

We arrived in Texas on December 29th. The ride from Georgia only took 16 hours and was super comfortable, seeing as how the three of us were smooshed together on a bench seat in the U-haul. Also, Maddie was an awesome traveler and didn't whine OR get bored with all the shit I packed her to play with. And then we lived happily ever after. (My sarcasm font is broken.)
                                                
Yeaaaaaaaah, not so much. The ride was ass-numbingly long. We were crammed into about a 4x2 foot space, with Terry driving, Maddie in the middle and me hugging the passenger door. Along with the three of us, I packed a bag of stuff to keep her entertained. She took each thing out and played with it approximately 4 minutes before handing it off to me to switch for something else. Before we had even crossed into the Central time zone, she was done with all her stuff.

A couple of weeks prior to moving, I bought her one of those $20 Seat-Pet things. You know, it's kinda like a stuffed animal but you attach it to the seat belt and it serves as a pillow. Well, that was a total waste of money. Out of 16 hours, she only slept about 45 minutes. All I can say is thank God for iPods! There were enough apps on there to keep her (marginally) entertained and off my nerves.

So there we were, just bumping along, headed a thousand miles away from everyone and everything we knew. I had to keep reminding myself to look at it as an adventure. Otherwise, I probably would have had a nervous breakdown. We had to stop several times to pee, get gas and just stretch our legs. Maddie continued on her quest to visit every public bathroom we come within a mile of. I tried to tune her out so we didn't fuss at each other. I'm glad my mom let us use her iPod for Maddie to play on. I have one, too, but it's older and doesn't have the apps. I listened to a ton of music, though. Imagine Dragons is my favorite right now. I'm pretty sure they kept me from totally losing my shit. Them and Maroon 5.

Anyway, when we finally crossed into Texas (although still several hours from Houston) we stopped at the first rest stop so we could take a picture. And pee. Again. The pictures aren't very good, but at this point we had been riding for about 13 hours.

You'll notice the giant star and the flag poles in the background. Apparently, Texans are super proud of their state. They are the only state that flies the state flag at the same height as the American flag.

Anyway, we took the pictures and then went to the bathroom in the rest stop. On the way up the ramp to the bathroom door, I noticed a sign off to the side. Mind you, we hadn't even seen the "Welcome To Texas" sign yet, as it is on the far side of the star and flagpoles. The sign read:
                                                WATCH OUT FOR SNAKES

WTF?? That's how Texas welcomes their newest inhabitants?! Before the "Welcome to your new home, we hope you like it here" sign was a warning about snakes. Then Terry, being ever so helpful added, "Yeah. And look out for aligators, too. The last time I was here there were three under this deck up by the fence." I'm sure my mouth was wide open. I'm undecided if it was open to ask further about this wild new land I found myself in, or if it was just a silent scream.

Once we hopped back in the truck and headed out, we passed the "Welcom to Texas, Y'all" sign. All I could think was, "Someone in a government-y position should either move the welcome sign to the closer side or move the snake sign further away. No one should have to have their first encounter with Texas be a warning for snakes!"

The rest of the drive wasn't too bad. It was dark, of course, so we couldn't really see anything. Mountains were noticably absent, though. We passed this one oil refinery. It was all lit up. I thought it was a little city we were about to go through. It was as big as downtown Chattanooga and spanned out for miles on both sides of the highway! They probably have a tram like Disney World to get their employees from the parking lots to the factory.

So, after much excitement and numb tushies, we made it to Houston. We passed Bush Intercontinental Airport, which was H U M O N G O U S! Also, on the road we came in on, there is everything. Chain restaraunts, mom-and-pop places, clothing stores, big chain stores like Target, and strip malls lining both sides of the road. After about a mile, they repeated, just on the opposite side of the street. We passed 2 Wal Marts, 2 Targets, and I don't know how many other stores in the last 3 miles before home. My first impression with Houston was: "Ho-ly crap. I'm NEVER gonna find my way around here!"

We got to the apartment around 11 p.m., went straight to the air mattresses Terry had been sleeping on, and crashed. Maddie was so exhausted she snored. (She will deny this, but she is lying. I heard her.) The next morning we ventured out for breakfast and took a little tour. It was so much bigger in the daylight. (Adventures' blog post coming soon.)

We had scheduled some help to unload the truck, and they got there around lunch. Four guys unloaded all our stuff and hauled it up a flight and a half of stairs in like 22 minutes! They were super unloaders! And they didn't just throw the stuff anywhere. They put the furniture where it was going and everything! That was the best $200 we ever spent, according to Terry.

So..... I know this is kinda rambly and probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but that was our "adventure" moving to Texas. In my next posts I will tell you about the scenic tour, the beach, update on school, and other information you just can not live without. :)

XOXO
Tab
   

This Will Be The Most Rambling And Convoluted Post Ever So Feel Free To Skip It If You Want To (But I Wouldn't)

Wow. What a ca-razy several weeks! Lemme see if I can recap without boring your brain or losing your attention.

So it's been a month since I posted. Well, let me tell you, I feel plenty guilty about that, but apparently not guilty enough to do anything about it before now. As you may or may not know, we are moving to Houston closer to the end of the year. It seems.... real now, somehow. But first....

Around September 11th I started feeling that wonky feeling. You know the one you get in the back of your throat when you are about to get sick? Yeah, that one. Anyway, that evening I started feeling bad. By the weekend I felt like crap. Not just regular crap, either. The kind of crap that was stepped in, scraped off and stepped in again. I just HAD to start feeling better, though. Monday the 16th was going to be a special day. I had a VIP seat to see the luscious and yummy Adam Levine (and the rest of those Maroon 5 guys) in Atlanta. I had gotten the ticket ($300!!) in May. It was a Mother's Day/birthday/Christmas present from the hubs. I had been counting down for months! Monday rolled around and I couldn't even muster the energy to take a shower much less ride over 2 hours and then sit through about a 4 hour long concert. My ticket was wasted. I cried and cried. There went my chance to be Adam's love slave. Oh, well. I figure after the new wore off I'd be bored anyway...

So, here it is the 16th and I still feel funky as ever. After missing work the previous Thursday and Friday, I skipped work today, too. I got a doctor appointment for Wednesday. Oh, and did I mention I had broken out in some weird boils/pox/blisters? No? Hmmm... Well, I did. All over my face, back and chest. I looked like I had leprosy. It was worse than chicken pox because these suckers were almost open wounds and they H-U-R-T.

Wednesday rolls around and I head to the doctor. She thinks it's a viral infection and loads me up with an antibiotic, an antiviral, some low grade pain meds and a goo to put on the boils. I thought for sure I'd start feeling better soon....

Bahahahahahaha! (That's Life, laughing at me.) By now it's Thursday the 19th. Happy frickin' birthday to me. I wake up to my wrists, fingers, hips, knees, ankles and toes stiff. Also, my feet are so swollen I couldn't even get my flip flop between my toes. Needless to say it was hard to get around for several days.

By the beginning of the next week my feet, particularly my left, was still so swollen. At one point my poor toes were turning blue. I ended up going to the emergency room. After a perfunctory exam and a chest x-ray they declared yes, it was viral. Oh, and we don't treat viruses. So basically I hung out at the hospital for hours only to be told to go home. I ended up stopping the previous medication, and when I did, the swelling went down. Finally!

So that brings us up to this week. Terry left Tuesday for Texas. (Say that 3 times fast!) He won't be back until Thanksgiving. This will be the longest we've spent apart in about 13 years. Monday night Maddie was distraught. She really didn't have any idea about exactly how long it would be before she saw her Daddy again. But, like the brave little trooper she is, she got up Tuesday morning and got on the bus dry-eyed. She and I had a good snuggle and cry that night, though.

Wednesday I began my temporary journey as a single parent. If this week is any indication, I'm pretty much gonna suck at it. It will either make mine and Maddie's relationship stronger or one of us will kill the other. It will also either make me more responsible, or I may just give in and give up all together (not really).

Now you're up to date. She has been doing well in school. Well, better since Miss Smith had a come-to-Jesus talk with a couple of bratty boys who were teasing and tormenting her. I've been doing well in school, too. Well.... except I'm pretty sure my Criminal Justice professor is a hard-ass and I'm gonna fail his stupid class. Other than that, though...

So here it is a beautiful Saturday. I alternate between piddling on the computer and packing some of our nonessential stuff. I'm out of boxes, though, so I may have to make a run to the liquor store.

For BOXES!

But.... since I'll already be there.............

It's Only Day 8 And I'm *Already* Feeling Stabby

By now you must know that I've returned to college life. If you do not know this, go here.

So, it is now a whopping 8 days into the semester and I'm ready to scream. The word I am about to throw down has been known to cause riots. It is a horrible, horrible word. This word strikes revulsion in the hearts of millions. Well, maybe thousands. Ok, ok. Just me. It strikes revulsion in me. The word is.......

SOCIOLOGY.

Even now I'm cringing. It makes my eye tic, my palms sweat. I get the distinct feeling of wanting to gouge my own eyeballs out with a spork. Saying it out loud makes me throw up in my mouth a little. It has become the new bane of my existence. I have never, never despised a class so thoroughly since my 9th grade Honors English class. And then it wasn't the class (I love English and have petitioned for a paid position on the Grammar Police squad. Still waiting for my acceptance letter...) so much as it was the hag who called herself a teacher. Lemme break it down for you.

I am not a social butterfly. I do not have many relationships. I don't flit from friend to friend, go to the mall just to hang out (or for anything, really), and I'm not attached permanently to my cell phone. My dance card is never full.

My idea of a perfect day/week/vacation is me, alone, with a few good books. And cheesecake.

 I am, however, a concrete thinker. I believe in a black-and-white system for almost everything. To me, there are very few instances where the possibility of grey even comes into play.

Yeahhhhh..... Ummmm... Attention dumb-ass me: Sociology is an abstract concept. Aaaaaaand? It's the freaking abstract study of PEOPLE. You know, people. Those annoying things that you don't like (and barely tolerate). Messy, loud, obnoxious, demanding, opinionated, rednecky, shitty driving people. Massive, hoard-y amounts of the public. It basically is my worst academic nightmare in the form of a rather innocuous looking book.

It totally doesn't *seem* like it could incite homicide....

I have to, somehow, get through reading 13 more chapters, do chapter quizzes for each one, 4 unit tests, a video reaction paper (the hell?), and some sort of essay. OH! And since the course is online, in lieu of physically attending class, I have to participate in discussions. I figure they are like message boards. Doesn't sound so bad, right? <insert annoying buzzer sound here> WRONG!

There are 4 mandatory discussions; one for each of the units. The instructor poses a couple of questions and/or topics that you have to demonstrate your grasp of. Also, you have to read everyone else's rhetoric. Not just read, but comment on two of them on two different days. I looked ahead to see what the topics were gonna be.

Oh. Em. Gee. Y'all. Every one is how society affects this, and expound on such-and-such theory. Every. Single. One. I mean, theories, for crying out loud. THEORIES! They are just one step removed from guesses!! Guesses, people! How much more abstract can you get?

Anyway, I just took a break from pulling my hair out to write this. I guess I better get back to it... before I decide to chuck the book out in the yard. I better tell Terry to make sure we don't have any sporks handy.....

There I Was, Just Minding My Own Business.....

...having my dreams of Adam Levine and peanut butter PopTarts, when BAM! Out of the blue <insert horribly disgusting sounds of kid barfing>. I know there is nothing I love more than being woken from a dead sleep to puke in my bed. Except maybe going around again on the vomit comet 30 minutes later after the sheets have been changed and everyone settled back down. So, yeah. Starting off the day at 4 a.m. to a sick kid isn't great. But you know what's even less great? Starting off the day before school starts with vomit. We are supposed to go register for 1st grade and meet her teacher at 4 p.m. today. I seriously hope she's feeling better by then.

OH! And THEN you know what happened? An hour or so after the last visit from "The Exorcist" (ya know. The whole projectile vomiting thing? Anyway..) guess who else starts to feel a rumbly in their tummy? If you said me, then you're right. You win eleventy bajillion dollars. The check's in the mail...

So, here I am. Five-o-freakin'-clock in the morning. My last day to "sleep in" until 7 a.m. and I've been up almost 2 hours already. Maddie is settled in snugly beside her daddy sound asleep. And me? Well, the tummy is still rumbly and there are some urgent issues there, but no vomit.

Yet.

Does Two On-Air Appearances Make You A Radio Personality? I Say YES!

Okay. So I wrote about my invitation to talk to Jason Walker @ Hits 96 Radio about his non-use of Twitter. Well, little did I know that he actually wanted it to become a thing. Like every week or two. Huh. I must not have made that big of ass out of myself after all. Next thing you know, they will want to hire me for a gazillion dollars and give me free tickets to every concert in a 100 mile radius. (Well, the good concerts, anyway.) Why, I'm practically a permanent personality! (Heavy sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell.) But I'm rambling. Again. So last Tuesday I went in to discuss his new status as Official Twitter-er. I also took the hubs and kid. I let him know that I updated his profile, made his page look pretty and gave him his new stats. He was only up a few followers, but while on air he begged and pleaded with the listeners to follow him to get me off his back. One actually did. Right then! That was pretty cool. Anyway, it didn't take nearly as long this time, but it was still a blast. He even had a name for it: Tabitha Twitter Tuesday. Which I am absolutely positive will totally never catch on. So, for your viewing and listening pleasure, I present my very second visit to the radio station in pictures and an audio clip. Enjoy!


P.S. I know I sound like a total goober, and I'm trying to be okay with that.

P.P.S. The pictures aren't great because Maddie, the budding photographer, screwed with the settings on the camera. You get the idea, though.

P.P.P.S. I didn't realize how chunky I've gotten until I saw my heifer self in all my glory... I'm definitely NOT okay with that!

I'm sure I was saying something funny and charming....

Not sure what kind of pose I was striking, but it's RADIO, people. Not TV.



One of the only times I can remember where my kid was impressed with me.
(Usually it's Daddy.)

Maddie, Me, and the Radio God himself, Jason Walker
 

Tabitha Twitter Tuesday # 1

 

TV Killed The Radio Star? HA! Hardly.

Yesterday I visited the local radio station. All morning I was so nervous. I practically had heart palpitations driving there and I got there without really remembering the drive. I was prepared, though. I, being me, had done research. Research. For a radio spot about Twitter. Twitter, for Pete's sake. Where was I? Oh, yeah, research. I had stats, interesting people that had Twitter accounts, and other details that were of really no consequence whatsoever. So, armed with my notebook and a facade of confidence, I entered through the gates. Actually it was just a door, but it was a big deal, yo.

The nice receptionist and I talked for a few minutes while Jason was making his way down to the lobby. I can't remember her name, but we spoke of gardening and the weather. She put me at ease when it was all I could do not to throw up and run screaming out the door. (*Side note: I need to get her name and send her a thank you card*) My heart was hammering in my ears. Now that I think about it, it sounded vaguely like the Jaws theme, except faster. So, during our lively discussion about the lack of rain, the inside door opened.

There stood a radio god. :) He wasn't all glowy or wearing a halo or anything, but still a god nonetheless. We smiled, shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. I could all be see the energy pumping off of him. I think he mentioned one time on-air that he was ADHD. Or maybe OCD. Whatever. Anyway, to get to the studio I had to go through the building with the admin offices and stuff to a smaller building in the back. I could only think, "Damn! He walks really frickin' fast!". It dawned on me later that he probably has to walk fast because there is nothing worse than dead air and a song only lasts so long. But, I digress. After power walking through the admin building we entered the studio building. It houses 4 (I think) separate stations. I barely got a glimpse at the downstairs before we were hoofing it up a narrow stairwell to the top floor. Impressions from up there are: a bathroom, a small kitchen and a couple of heavy wooden doors with small square viewing windows. As I approached the hallowed door, my breath caught in my chest. Childhood games of playing "DJ" with a boom box/tape deck flashed in my mind. I was about to go where no me has gone before. He entered ahead of me and held the door. With a grand sweeping gesture, he bid me to enter. (Okay, that part was made up. Probably.) Garnering all my nerve I stepped through the doorway and into...

Hmmm.... A room about as big as a cubicle. It was waaaaay smaller than I expected. I mean, I was thinking it would be as big as a gymnasium. I figured it would have to be that big to hold all that personality. :) The desk was "L" shaped and each side had a big microphone. There were about 60 computer monitors (slight exaggeration) and that button board thingy with all the slidey buttons (yep, reeeeeeeal technical, aren't I?). The walls were covered in autographed pictures of musicians, most of which I am not hipster enough to recognize. Overall, the room had sort of a controlled chaos kind of feel.

It was less than a minute before he had to go on-air and change songs. I thought he walked fast. His hands were flying over the button board thingy (I *really* need to find out what that thing is called). While he did his thing I got out my "research". I had rehearsed my spiel so I could lay it all out clearly and concisely. The moment I had to sidle up to that mic, every thought in my head flew right out the one tiny window. Oh, no. My worst fears are coming true. My mouth dried up. My palms started to sweat. I knew this would happen. My only coherent thought was, "Ohmygod". How was I going to be my <ahem> funny and charming self if all I could do was stutter and groan?? My next thought was, "S H I T." Not only am I about to embarrass the bejeezus out of myself in front of this dude, I'm gonna be mortified live. On-air. For the whole city to hear.

What? What's that? Ohhhhhhh... We don't do it live. So you're gonna record and edit it into segments and then play it? Awesome. I may end up making an ass of myself, but at least it won't be for a gazillion people to hear. (Bad enough, yes. But oh so much better than the alternative.)

That was the point where he just talked to me. Like a normal conversation. My previously scattered thoughts began to find their way home. I was able to form complete sentences. And my proudest moment? I said something that made him laugh. Like, gut busting laugh. "See?" I told myself in my head, "I can be funny. Sometimes. Maybe. Sort of." Anyway, he put me at ease and I was able to accomplish (most) of my goals.

For over an hour we chatted and laughed. I "suggested" that he not log on to Facebook without first logging on to Twitter. Also, that he link the accounts. That way, when he tweets, it will automatically post as a status update on Facebook. As our time was winding down, he did something A-mazing. He gave me his Twitter info so I could monitor his "progression" and also find people he should be following. People! Do you understand what I'm saying?? He. Gave. Me. His. Info. Me! A perfect stranger. He had to know going in to this little 'interview' that I was kooky. I mean, who else researches and presents reasons to be on Twitter?! No one, that's who. Of course, it's probably not that big a deal to him because he often lets Brad take over his Facebook.

We wrapped up with promises (on his part) to tweet and warnings (on my part) that I will be watching.

On an odd side note: He played 2 of the 3 segments on-air while I was in the studio. The other one, however, came on while I was on my way home. Do you know how odd it is to hear yourself on the radio? Lemme tell ya. Weird. Especially since I sound like a total dork!

And, because this experience has been the coolest, funniest, most bizarre thing that will (probably) ever happen to me, here is the audio from 2 of the segments.

 

Segment 1

Segment 2



DISCLAIMER:
This post was not sponsored by either Twitter or Hits 96 (@Hits96Radio). But, if either of them want to pay me for these fabulous words and general pimping, I accept all forms of payments. Seriously, though, a great big huge THANK YOU to Jason Walker (@jasonwalker965) for an amazing experience. You guys should follow him <now that he is actually tweeting>. He is a big ball of awesomeness, hilarity and bad assery.

OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD

A couple of weeks ago I called in to the local radio station and inquired of (one of) my fave DJ(s) as to why he didn’t use Twitter. We bantered back and forth of the benefits versus the time/energy/desire. He said he had a Twitter account but just never used it. He also quipped that I could be his Twitter Social Media Director. Wellll….. no pay, no real responsibilities? Sign. Me. Up.

Taking my duties and my new title very seriously, I sent him a Facebook message the very next day telling him the easiest way to get going is tweet something inane first thing in the morning. I use Twitter a lot, but still, most mornings I tweet the name of the song that was playing in my head when I woke up. I suggested he do that with #WokeUpSinging.

Fast forward to this past Monday. It dawned on me that I hadn’t heard a *peep* (Get it? Twitter? A bird? Peep? HA! I crack myself up.) from him on his Twitter account. I then sent him another message via Facebook.

            “2 weeks on the job as your Twitter Social Director and I couldn’t get not *1* stinkin’ tweet outta you. I’m so fired. Now what am I gonna do with all those business cards I had printed??”

A few minutes later, his reply:

            “I am a Twitter failure. You must come to the studio to discuss our Jason Tweets, Inc. corporate structure.”

I then said:

            “Ha! 12:30 good for you?”  (**I was being totally sarcastic. Just in case you didn’t catch it.**)

Literally less than a minute later…

            “Today is not good, but any other day this week is fine.”

(**Me, starting to hyperventilate**):

            “Dude! Are you freakin’ serious?! I can’t be on the radio! I’m soooo not cool enough for that!”

A minute later he had this to say:

            “I have the trademark on not being cool. Come here.”

(**Me, silently running through all the disastrous scenarios that could occur**):

            “Ummmm….okay(?). Wednesday okay? And are you seriously serious?”

Then the word that had me quaking in my strappy sandals:

            “yes”

So, ladies and gentlemen, (or Val, since I think you are the only one who reads this crap I churn out), today I will be going to the radio station after work to probably more than likely hopefully (please God) not make a huge redneck-y ass out of myself.

Wish me luck! I may be able to post the audio on here tomorrow. Providing I don’t embarrass myself too much. Even if I can't do the audio you can bet your sweet bupkis that I will have a post documenting my foray.

Also, here’s the slightly bad ass business card I made.

I've Had Leprosy. Getting Better But More Importantly... BEHOLD! MY AWESOME BUTT MAN IN ALL HIS GLORY!!!

Last week I left a comment on one of the blogs that I read regularly. It is Misty's Laws, written by a highly intelligent (she's a lawyer) and freakily funny chick. You should check it out. Go ahead. I'll wait..... Done? Good. Anyway, I left a comment on a post and lo and behold, she drew MY name to win the coveted Butt Man. Well, I don't know if that's his name, but (ha! no pun intended) it is now. So let me set the scene so I can officially introduce you to him.

Picture, if you will, me, sick with the plague, dysentery, leprosy, SARS, and a sinus/ear infection. (Only one of these is true. Probably.) I have felt the impending implosion/explosion of my own brain for about 4 days straight at this point. I woke up around 2 am Monday with a splitting headache and a squiggly tummy. I went in to work but came home after only an hour and a half. I was half-dead Tuesday and most of Wednesday. I sucked it up and went in Thursday. It wasn't *all* that bad. As long as I didn't turn my head, or move, or cough, or breathe deeply. So anyway, I get home yesterday afternoon and a package was waiting for me. I was expecting it, of course, since getting the news late last week. I then proceeded to do a little jig, for that was all the energy I could afford to expend, and say "I won! I WON! IwonIwonIwonIwonI WON!" It was kinda like the scene in A Christmas Story where the dad gets the giant box of award from Fra-gee-lay and it turns out to be the awesomest lamp anyone anywhere has ever had the privilege of laying their eyes on. Same thing. I cut open the box, eager to hold my new treasure. I wait with bated breath as the last of the tape pops. I pull back the flaps of the box. I toss the tissue paper over my shoulder and onto the floor. THERE! There he is. Oh. My. God. He is MAGNIFICENT! Here. Just see for yourself.





DA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA BUTTMAN!

I know, I know. He's freaking spectacular!! He is holding tape and his feet are the cutter. His mouth holds a pen, The potty has a slot for a post it pad and there is also a hole behind that for scissors. He's not done, though. I you lift him off the potty, the "bowl" is full of.... paperclips. And he has a tiny magnet on his tiny hiney. Canyoubelievethat?? It's a clever, multitasking, wonderfully weird desk organizer. If you want to find out how to own your very own Butt Man, head on over to Misty's  for the deets. Although even if you *do* get your own, mine will still be superior because I won him. From an awesome person. And THAT kind of coolness just can't be bought. :P