Don't Judge

How many times have I gone away and returned, then gone away again only to return. I have no excuse. Check that, I have tons. But you don't want to hear them so I don't want to give them. I really do have a ton to say, so for now I'll leave you with this: my mind is in need of a serious brain dump. I'm not sure what form that will take, but for now, I'm prepping the hardwoods with plastic sheeting.

Obsessive? Yes.

If you ask any of my friends what part of my physical being I'm most anal about, there would be NO QUESTIONS. You would always get one consistent answer – the hair on my fat-cheeked head. And you know what? I'm okay with that. I have worked really hard over the last 10 years to scare the gray peons back into the inside of my scalp versus allowing them to play on the outside. Except that CPS called and said that I can't keep anything locked up inside my head house anymore. They have to be free. Fine. I just costume them in outfits that look much like the rest of the outside scenery. It's like follicle camoflage.

I have several women, who I see on a regular basis, who insist on leaving their house with wet, stringy, unkempt hair. Not just 'kind of' wet, but all-the-way, all-my-towels-are-in-the-wash, I-tried-to-drink-out-of-the-water-hose wet.

I can't, for the LIFE of me, understand how a grown woman – one who wants to get laid (I assume) – would get up in the morning and never once entertain the company of a blow dryer or flat iron. I understand a lack of styling, a lack of makeup, and even a lack of underwear, but I just don't get how wet hair makes you feel as if you are "put together" when you get in your car to travel to someplace where other people are.

There are many women, my mother and sister included, who don't use a blow dryer at all. That is totally fine with me, because they wait to exit their homes until they don't look like they just walked through a hurricane.

I know that I'm odd – that I'm one of those freakishly obsessive women who actually care about the fact that they might see Kevin Bacon at the coffee shop in downtown Chattanooga. Regardless, sopping, wet hair just isn't pretty. It makes you look like you said, "you know, I really wish everyday could be a 'just got out of the ocean' look kinda day." Keep it up and you'll soon be wearing your slippers to the office.








Oh shit, I know women like that too.

must remember...

please watch after your Thanksgiving consumption...

The single-pipe alpine coaster located in Mieders, Austria, is reachable only by taking a suspended cable car to the top of the mountain. It seats one person at a time and has a hand-applied brake. This moron decided to not to use the brake...at all...even in the part of the ride that make you lose your lunch.

oh dear Lord...

<GASP!!> oh dear, Lord...this person is me

hypnotic stare...

This is her "is any of that chocolate coconut cake for me?" face...

And this is her "you've got to be kidding me, right? There is no evidence that a single, solitary piece of that crumb fell? How is it even possible that your boob-shelf didn't collect SOMETHING?" face...

Life changer

There is no where in the world that I love more than New Orleans. I've been all over Europe, Asia and North America, and still haven't found a place that makes me feel as comfortable or warm. That being said, the city is not without its foibles. The city government has been filled with corruption – long before the Katrina disaster – and the politicians have always had their true motives called into question. The class structure is as dynamic as any other city of size, but is more pronounced with a minimalized middle class within New Orleans parish. The cops and the streets are dirty, the Mississippi dirtier times three.

Still, I smile when I hear mention of NOLA, I bask in the Quarter's glow every chance I get and I would be hard pressed to say that Mike and I have not thought about making the city our permanent home if the stars aligned in our favor.

Last weekend I had the chance to play "tour guide" to one of Mike's classmates who had never seen the city. It was nice for me, because I have been there so often that I don't always get to do the things that we did. It was a refreshing reminder of all the amazing things that the city, specifically the Quarter, has to offer. When B left on Monday morning, I stayed an extra day to hang out with my girlfriends and experience Halloween on Bourbon Street. The costumes were AMAZING and the party was out of control. I loved almost every minute of it.

That night, I experienced something that I thought I never would. As I was walking between two bars, on either end of Bourbon St, I came upon an crowded intersection. Nothing odd about it, really. The mounted police were high above the crowd, keeping their eyes out for drunks and flashing boobs, when out of the blue, I was met with several "pop...pop....pop-pop-pops." I watched, twelve people away from me, a young man be shot in the head and another in the shoulder. This happened right in front of the police, right in the middle of a crowded, celebratory, costume-wearing crowd. The target was intended, presumably gang-related, but none of us knew that at that given moment.

In my thirty-something years, I've never seen anything shot. Not a deer, a turkey, a horse – much less a human. There are many more details to this story, but most of you are as uninterested in hearing them as I am in telling them. Suffice to say, I was a shaking, panicked mess who paused for a moment and wondered where my city went.

I realized, however, that it hadn't gone anywhere. I was simply more immersed in it than I ever had been in the past. This world has evolved into one that allows us to comfortably hunker down in the pockets of life that don't scare us, that don't put us in harms way. We are given the freedom and right to live free from danger and to travel in relative safety. But just like anything, we live with choice – free will.

I'm proud to love the city of New Orleans, and I'm even more excited to travel back. I appreciate the sentiment of those who say, "uh, are you crazy?" – and to that I say, "I doubt it." But I will say that this event has taught me to be less cavalier about all my travels and all my adventures outside my own door – whether they be in Chattanooga or Shanghai. All I know is that fear won't help me make better decisions, but it will cause me to miss out on what life has in store for me.

M.I.A.

So, work travel has made it difficult for me to keep up – not just with the blog, but with many things.
On my plate right now:

• moving Biased Baby clothing line off of cafepress.com and onto Etsy. This will allow me to cut my prices in almost half and hopefully build the business more. I already have an Etsy page, but it doesn't contain my clothing line. I've gotten all my business licenses transferred to Tennessee, so as soon as my wholesale purchase certificate is processed, I'll be up and running. It can't happen fast enough.

• Masters Program work. I just got my seventh A, meaning my 4.0 GPA remains intact. This program is kicking my ass, though. When I was in college, I was in the fine arts program, so the time spent in research and writing was never this intense.

• Keeping up with things at work. It's not glamorous, but it's the truth. There's so much to do, sometimes I just stare at my desk, dumbfounded at where to start.

• Missing my husband and babies. So, the kids have been @ Mike's for 3 weeks because my travel schedule was so crazy. Mike, as you might remember, is a 4th year Veterinary Medicine student and lives elsewhere. It's nice that his school schedule afforded me the ability to leave the pups and kittens there, but my house is such a sad, pitiful place to come home to. The quiet is deafening. I might have to bring in a random cat and have it crap on the floor, just so I can think that the big, fat cat is back at home. Thankfully, I get to pick them up next weekend and see Mike for a solid 3 days. I won't know what to do with myself.

So, I've got a TON of stuff to tell you guys – Europe trip, New Orleans trip + tragedy, new Biased clothing spawned by the Occupy Wall St movement and some cool pics to share. I'll be back tomorrow, promise.

So stinkin' cute...

You know, if I had a trunk, I'm not sure that I would know what to do with it either. Look at this sweet little baby elephant who is just learning to walk. Not only can he not figure out what his trunk is for, but he gets it stuck under one of those big legs of his. Ten out of ten on the "sweet-o-meter."

your daily bias...

I Heart...

I can't find a source for this. I'm happy to give MAD props to the author, seeing as they somehow climbed inside my brain and sucked all the sarcasm juice out. They then blended that juice with some eye rolling and open mouth howling laughs. Just sayin'...

 

Keep your turds to yourself...

Okay, so I'm not one to do testimonials for things that I actually own...normally I'm coveting things that I can't afford. But this product has made more of a difference in my life than any other in the past three months. Once you find out what it is, many of you will say, "geez, girl - you need to find some other interests if THIS is what's getting you excited." Eh, what can I say? I'm a married woman living alone with four animals, planter fasciitis, and a reality TV addiction. Could be worse, right?

For my friends who are mothers, many of you had at least one (or if you are like my sister, one-in-every-room) Diaper Genie. You know, that odor-proof diaper disposal system that lets you avoid opening your kitchen trash can every morning and wondering who stashed the dead rat under your liner. It was a great creation for the baby-occupied household for a multitude of reasons, the first of which being another thing that you moms get to put on the "honey-do-and-complain-about-it-nonstop" list.

Well, I don't have a baby. I won't have a baby, and if I do have a baby, divorce is eminent. This based on my darling, bald husband's wise choice to surgically eliminate the possibility of pregnancy -- which means that if I show up with something in the womb, either I've made good on my Kevin Bacon 'allowance' or you can call me Virgin Mary of Chattanooga.

This, my friends, is the LitterLocker. It's a Diaper Genie for cat turds!!! CAN YOU HEAR THE EXCITEMENT IN MY VOICE RIGHT NOW??? This little wonder allows me to scoop the cat box leavin's directly into the Locker, where they are sucked into a black hole of nothingness. No smell, no constant running to the outdoor trash with a Target bag full of cat crap, and most importantly, no access for the Hound Dog when she smells cat brownies baking.

 

For reals, this little wonder has been a miracle. If you are like me, and can't think of anything you hate more than scooping crap out of a plastic box, then this is what you need. Not to mention, it will give you WAY more time for your (er, my) reality TV fix.