Okay, so I really…really really really thought the Colts were going to win the Super Bowl.  Really.

A lot.

I knew it would be a close game, but I just KNEW Peyton Manning would pull out a win in the end.

Just in case you didn’t watch, that’s not what happened.  SADFACE.  I’m happy for all my NOLA friends and it was certainly nice to see the Saints win their first Super Bowl.  But seriously.  SADFACE.

I’m done talking about it now.  I have one important announcement to make.  My lovely Carissa over at Carissa Jaded is going to be doing a comedy slam story thingy that I don’t really understand, but it’s sure to be funny!  And it’s Valentine’s Day themed, which I’m guessing means they’ll be pissing on Valentine’s Day’s parade.  They ARE comedians after all.  So if you’re in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, you should probably go support her.  I mean, could YOU get up in front of a bunch of people and be funny?  Exactly.  So go laugh at Carissa.  She likes that.  Click HERE for details about the show!

Oh, I made some DELICIOUS Onion Dip yesterday.  DELICIOUS.  Maybe even life changing.  If you’d like the recipe, please go visit the Pioneer Woman’s Tasty Kitchen.  She is a genius, as is the woman who added this recipe.  Whoever she may be. 

Doesnt’ that just make your mouth water?  Because it makes my mouth water.  Mmmm….

I’m going to have the lovely Natalie Cottrell, the delicious Gofahne, and the always incredible Graygrrrl over for some dinner goodies soon, and I need vegetarian recipe suggestions.  Otherwise, I’ll just be making pasta.  With cheese and wine.  I know my audience, okay?  No, I’m kidding.  I already have a couple of things in mind, but I’m open to suggestions from my blog cooks.

UM ALSO.

If you’re in the DFW Metroplex and you wanna meet some other bloggers, we’re having DRINKS!  Yummy.  Who doesn’t like drinks?

Okay, it’s not that nothing has irritated me this week.  Let’s be honest with ourselves here, people, something irritates me EVERY week.

It’s more that I feel like I’m about to DIE and I just lost my breakfast and I want to be in DC and have a snow day, but I’m NOT.

Oh.  Wait a minute.  THAT’S IT.

Today, I am breaking up with all you DC bitches bragging about your effing snow day.  Meanie pants!  All of you.  I want snow.  I don’t even think I remember what it looks like.  All we get in Dallas in the winter is rain, rain, ice, and traffic.

So here’s to all you DC bloggers.  SHUT YOUR FACES I WANT SNOW.

That is all.

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According to NBCDFW, and the radio station I was listening to this morning, we have a new thing to get all upset about in Dallas.  This is due mostly to the fact that the Cowboys season is over, and it’s hard to keep whining and rehashing the SAME THINGS OVER AND OVER (Right, Emmitt?).

The NBA All-Star game will be held here in Dallas this year.  And you know what that means!  Hookers!  Now, rather than just be…less than concerned about what adults do in the privacy of their own hotel rooms, we’re going to roll out extra police and have undercover agents in nearly every hotel in the surrounding area.

I’m considering getting all dressed up, and hanging out suspiciously in a hotel bar, to see if I can get picked out as a prostitute.  Fun, right?  Who’s with me?

Also, here’s what I heard when I read this article:  If you’re going to commit a crime in Dallas that ISN’T getting paid for sex…the NBA All-Star game night is the night to do it.  The police will be distracted trying to bust people who are essentially hurting no one, so they won’t be paying a lot of attention to you rapist, murderers, and burglars.  FREE DAY!

Why are we so freaked out about this?  Honestly, I don’t believe that prostitution is a simple issue, any more than I believe selling organs is a simple issue.  Exploitation of unwilling women (and men…I guess) is never okay in my book.  But this seems like an awful lot of concern about women who seem to know what they’re doing.  Am I crazy here?

In other news, the Dallas bloggers have decided to take a page from the DC book.  So we’re planning a night of drinks and debauchery next Wednesday!  Okay, probably mostly drinks, but a girl can hope.  It’s not exactly happy hour because we’re coming from all over the Metroplex and we’d rather NOT fight traffic and be stabby by the time we meet each other.  We’re smart ladies.

When:  Wednesday, February 10, 2010 @ 7:30 pm
Where:  Sherlock’s @ Park and 75
Who’s Coming: Shine, Gofahne, Graygrrrl, Natalie, Mary, and Carissa (and you?)

Let us know if you want to attend!  Email me at ishineoutloud@gmail.com

April, over at Gofahne Road, one of my most favoritest people in the whole universe sent me THIS ARTICLE yesterday.  And my day was made.

I’m going to assume you’ve clicked and read it and are now ready to discuss.  Discuss!

Oh wait.  This is my blog.  I get to discuss.  You have to wait for the comments section. Hahahahahahaha!  I’m drunk with power.

First, I’m going to entertain you with my feelings about politicians.  Don’t worry.  It won’t take long.  Politicians suck.  Got it?  So while I did like listening to Obama during the campaign and all that, I was well aware that at the end of the day, no matter how great he made things sound, he was still a politician.  Which means that it doesn’t really matter if he wants to change the world because there will be some NASTY road blocks in his way and he has to try to make everyone as happy as possible, blah blah blah.

Suffice to say, I’m realistic about this kind of thing, even if I often sound more idealistic and wish for easy change.

My favorite thing that Obama said throughout the campaign?  That he thought there should be a playoff system in place in college football.

Now, realistically, I could give a SHIT about college football.  I went to a college where football once ruled the school; in the years I was there, it was more of a joke.  I grew up in Tennessee, so most of my family either bleeds (hideously bright) orange or is sadly disappointed by Vanderbilt every year.  And while I do love me some (REAL) UT football, I never really much got into the whole thing.

Here’s what I do know:  I hate University of Texas football (sorry Mary, but it’s truth), pretty much anyone from Texas A&M can kiss my ass (that includes their football team), and I’m from Tennessee.  This means I can’t really like Arkansas (because really…who would?  Sorry April), Georgia, or Alabama.  But I will always root for the SEC over anyone else…even Alabama.

Oh, and on the off-chance they ever cross my path, USC can suck it.

Not that I’m opinionated or whatever.  Obviously.  But mostly, I can’t get into college football because What.  The.  FUCK.  BCS?  Now, instead of football, college football has been reduced to style points and votes and is…complete bullshit.  No one can ever really know who the best team is because everything is so fucked the fuck up.

And now…the BCS is possibly going under investigation for violating anti-trust laws?!?  That is GENIUS.  I still think things are going to be complicated and messy, but it seems that FINALLY enough of America has gotten pissed off to actually force some action.  It’s ABOUT TIME.

College football, I can tell you this.  You get me a 16 team playoff, or some form of playoff that doesn’t leave out the little guy, and you will have yourself another fan.  I will watch.  I will not laugh at you.  I will no longer claim that you’re full of shit.

Normally, I’m the sort of girl who likes sex a lot.  Wants to have it a lot.  Thinks about it a lot.

But lately?  Not so much.  For instance, Princess and I broke up about two (three?) weeks ago and the thought of sex hasn’t even crossed my mind since then.  Not to mention the fact that, for a variety of reasons, I didn’t really have a lot of interest in it in the last month we were dating anyway.  Which hasn’t really happened to me much in my life.

So what’s this all about?  I don’t understand it.  Have any of you ever gone through this?

And it’s not that I’m…well, I mean, I’m still taking care of my own business and all that.  But I have absolutely no interest in going through the motions with another person.  The thought of it seems like a chore.  I feel like I’ve been married for 20 years and I forgot what sex is all about.  WHAT HAPPENED?  HELP!

I kind of think it’s partially because making the sex means involving someone else in my life and, frankly, I’m just not all that interested.  And I know what you’re going to say.  Just find someone and do the business.  It doesn’t mean I have to date the person.  But you see…I’ve tried that.  And dudes get all attached to me.  I don’t like it.  I don’t want someone all attached to me right now.  Hell, maybe ever.

So what do I do?  How do I get it back?  Does it just come back naturally?  WHY HAS THE SEX ABANDONED ME?

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It all started with the thought, “Ugh, I’m THIRTY now, I should maybe take better care of my face.”  And off to Sephora I went.

Cue disaster for my checking account.

The scene:

Me, at Sephora, looking at stuffs, trying not to attract attention.  Sales people EVERYWHERE trying to lure me in to all their expensive stuffs.  This time, at least the crazy man didn’t touch me like usual.  Though he did TALK to me.  About my coat.

Finally, realizing I had no idea what I should even be looking for in a a face wash, I walked up to a sales lady and said, “Hi.  I’m like, 30 now and I really feel like I should be taking better care of my face.  Any ideas?”  She looked at my face all judgmentally and said, “You look a little oily.  And you have two blemishes.  Any other problem issues I need to know about?”

OUCH.

Mind you, this woman had on more makeup than a gaggle of drag queens on a Saturday night.  And she would be LUCKY to have my face.  But she didn’t blink an eye when I said I was 30, so I felt like I must be looking old that day.  And the trouble begins.

I don’t know how many of you have ever seen The Truth About Cats & Dogs, but I LOVED that movie when it came out.  Mostly because I LOVE Janeane Garofalo.  And my favorite scene has always been the one where she ends up at the department store makeup counter and the sales lady makes her feel old and ugly, so she ends up buying all this makeup and stuff.

You know the one.  Right?

Saleslady:  We also have this new face cream which neutralizes the free radicals that attack the skin. Let me ask you: what’s your skin regime?

Janeane Garofalo:  My regime? The regime from which the radicals are trying to get free? Are we selling face cream or staging a coup?

Yeah, I basically lived that yesterday.  And I am the proud purchaser of a new skin “regime.”  AND a Sephora beauty rewards membership, oh help me god.  I went in for tinted moisturizer, which I bought, and came out with $300 of new skin regime and some stuff I can’t even really identify.

In other news, while rock climbing this weekend (despite a sinus infection AND a bum foot), I managed to show my friends my wedgie.  Aren’t they lucky?  You see, I was wearing running tights, which I like to climb in because they’re comfy and stretchy and they don’t get all out of place and such.  Well, this particular pair is not the regular kind.  They’re more cloth-like.  I stretched them a little too far and…HELLO SHINE’S ASS!  I’m so pretty.

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Lately, I’ve been censoring myself in some serious ways. Some family members read my blog, as do most of my friends, a couple of coworkers, and a couple of other sensitive people.

And guess what.  This is MY blog.  You don’t have to read it.  You don’t have to like what I say here.  You don’t have to come back.  Because I write this for me…mostly.  I mean, okay, I’ll admit that I’m in it to try to entertain you guys and I like it that people read it.

But I don’t write this to make everyone happy.  I write it to make me happy.

So here are some things I’d like to let you in on (some of them you already know):

1. I don’t really like children.  I’m not going to apologize or feel bad for it any more than I would ask someone else to apologize and feel bad for liking children.  I am going to complain about screaming children and useless parents on this blog.
2. My relationships all have ups and downs.  If you’re in one with me and you care so much about what complete strangers think of you, you should probably get out now.
3. I just sneezed on my keyboard.
4. If you’re my friend and you choose to read this blog, sometimes I might talk about you.  Please try not to get upset about it.  I’m rarely out to hurt you, but I will talk about the things that you do that amuse me.
5. Princess and I broke up and he requested that I not talk about it on my blog.  I’m now announcing that I find that request to be bullshit, for several reasons.  Not the least of which is that most of you don’t know who he is in real life AND it’s (as established above) MY BLOG and I can talk about whatever I want.
6. Sometimes I drink.  Get over it.
7. I’m probably going to talk about sex, bathroom stuff, food, sex, men, women, relationships, grocery stores, football, sex, current events (RARELY, I get most of my news from Twitter), commercials, work, people, clothes, shoes, cake, and a whole bunch of other trivial things.  If you’re not interested, don’t read it.
8. I don’t really care about the way I’m “supposed to be” or “should be.”
9. I hate clichés.
10. I love you all and my little corner and I’m really not even talking to most of you.

So I’m done censoring for other people.  I said I wasn’t going to do it and then I started doing it without really thinking about it.  It’s over now, people.  Be afraid.

Obviously that’s just silly.  I’m not scary.  But I’m tired of writing my blog by other people’s rules.

Dear readers,

My blog hates some of you, but I want to take this moment to tell you that I do NOT.  I promise that I’m trying to convince my anti-spammy thing that you guys are my FRIENDS, and not, say, the people who are trying to sell me a mail-order bride or viagra.  Only one of which I’m considering.  I’ll let you guy mull that over for a few minutes.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell you to rest-assured that I will approve your comments as soon as I find them.  My blog finds Erin at snarke.net “quite spammy” and often quarantines her!  I’m not sure what quarantine is like, but last time she was sitting in there next to a bot trying to sell everyone Ambien.  So at least she probably got a good night’s sleep…and possibly purchased some furniture online without remembering it.

I promise I love you guys!

Shine

In other news, I had a lovely weekend of…not doing a whole hell of a lot.  I watched a lot of NCIS.  SHUT UP, I know.  But I love it anyway.  Saturday was girls’ night out and I was the only one without an “L” name.  I guess this means I need new friends?

I’m kidding, guys.  You know I love you all.  Even if I am the odd duck for not having an “L” name.

Favorite line of the night?  “The Asian Pear Martini at the restaurant where I used to work was so good, I creamed my pants.”  And for that line, I left my friend’s phone number for our cute waiter.  Who needs a haircut.  Okay, maybe I’m hoping they’ll go out JUST so she can convince him to cut his hair.

Friday morning, I got a call from a friend who needed a right home from the airport.  Her ride had fallen through at the last minute.  I called my boss to explain the situation and then headed out to fight traffic to the airport.

After I dropped my friend off, I steered the car toward the office and…flashing lights behind me.  UGH.  I had just turned right, so I know I wasn’t speeding.  I hadn’t run a red light.  WTF?

OH YEAH MY REGISTRATION WAS EXPIRED.  To be honest, I thought they had mailed me the sticker and I had just forgotten to put it on my car.  In reality, I had forgotten to mail the check.  Oops.

So the cop pulls me over and tells me what’s what.  He gave me a ticket (I deserved it.  My registration had been expired since July), and sent me on my way.  So I called my boss AGAIN, to explain and see if it was okay if I just went to take care of it right then.

Surprisingly, there’s a tax office pretty close to my apartment.  I found a meter and fed it some change and went in…to find the BIGGEST LINE EVER.  The best part?  They put the line on the far side of the room, and down the side, but you can’t really see it from the door.  So everyone walking in thinks there is no line and just walks up to one of the windows.  Then the people in the line get angry and snap.  I offered to tackle someone.

Once I had gotten my registration updated, I realized I was only about a mile from the municipal court.  I figured it would be easiest to just walk up there and take care of my ticket, too.  I didn’t realize this would involve an hour wait, a court appointment, a judge, and a bitchy lady.

I walk in to the door that has the proper address and I’m immediately told that I’m “not at the entrance.”  The entrance, you see, isn’t on the same street as the ADDRESS.  Maybe I’m just being picky here, but if you’re going to bother to have an address, why don’t you make it on the street where people actually need to ENTER THE BUILDING?  I finally find the right door and it’s covered with signs for all the things I’m not allowed to bring into the court building.  No guns, knives, alcohol, sporting equiment…wait, sporting equipment?!?  I guess someone beat a judge with a bat or something.

It just so happens that I have a carabiner with an ATC belay device clipped to my pants because I wanted to make sure that I put it with my climbing equipment (in my car…which was a mile away).  The security guard immediately looks at it and says, “What on earth is that?”  I explained that it was just a device used for rock climbing, and she held out a tray for me to put it on so she could inspect it.  I put my purse on another tray and walked through the security screening.  No beeps!  Then she says to me, “You got a pocket knife in that purse?”  I started looking through my bag and found a pair of nail clippers.  She asked to see them and then let me go through.

Later, I discovered that in addition to the pair of nail clippers, I did indeed have a pocket knife.  AND a corkscrew with a little knife on it.  And I got through that security screening THREE TIMES with three separate guards.  Way to be on the ball, boys (and lady).

I finally managed to find the right person and plead my case.  She said that the next court appointment was in an hour and could I just wait for that?  What choice did I have?  It did hit me that my meter was going to run out, so I needed to move my car.  No problem!  I had an hour to kill anyway!

Back to the car.  Move the car.  Park it at a meter in front of the courthouse.  Realize that I just used all my change at the last meter.  Except for one nickel.  Which gave me four minutes.  FREAK OUT.

Don’t worry, there was a change machine on the other side of security.  This part of the story had a happy ending.

As I piled into the courtroom for my appointment with fifty other people, I felt my heart sink a little.  How could this NOT take forever?  But somehow, because of the way they do the alphabet in this courtroom, I got called as the first person on the left side!  The woman who spoke to me was incredibly rude.  Especially when I dared to ask her what would happen next.

The judge saw the person who went first, then the next person, then the person after me, then a couple more people.  I noticed the woman on the right asking people to hand stuff to the bailiff.  So I walked over to her and asked if I was supposed to give her something.  The woman I had spoken with told me to sit down, that I would be seen when the judge called my name.  I said that I didn’t mind waiting, but he had called five people who had gone after me and I just wanted to make sure that I didn’t have some paperwork or something.

What happened was this:  The woman who spoke to me didn’t bother to hand my paperwork off to the bailiff, like she was supposed to.  Instead, she held on to it and attached it to the paperwork of the next person.  When his name was called, he was handed both my paperwork and his.  He went to the clerk to pay his fine.  He also paid mine.  It took over an hour to figure this out, so I was stuck in a courtroom all that time.

The rules in the courtroom:

1. Cell phones must be turn OFF.  Not just on silent.
2. No food.
3. No drinks.
4. No talking.
5. NO READING.

Seriously.  You are not allowed to READ in the courtroom.  Is it any wonder the youth of today can barely speak English?

I didn’t make it to work until 4:00 pm.  Ugh.

Dear Today,

I’d like to see you die a slow and painful death.  Plus, you’re going to end with the LAST EPISODE OF DOLLHOUSE EVER.  Sadface.

You suck balls,

Shine

More details at a later date, but let’s just say I nearly kicked the ass of an officer of the court.  Good times.