the wonder kids.

Their names were Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, PoopSmith and PopTart.

I can't explain them except to say that they are the bench mark that my kids entire lives will be held to.

The oldest, Princess Consuela Banana Hammock, could possibly be my roll model. At nine she felt isolated from kids her age because they were boring and childish. This girls idea of a good time was Jumping on the bed to Outkast and making up plays in the living room...not ooohhhing and aaahhhing over Zach and Cody or whoever the flavor of the month was back then. She was a kid...but with a biting wit and bitter intelligence that half of my friends couldn't understand.
At age 11 she told her mom that her two closest friends were her two 21 year old babysitters. This made me beam for days and shattered my heart at the same time.
Only this girl could make me be excited that an 11 year old liked me. Really liked me.

The first time they met Jeff, the boys (poopsmith and poptart) took one look at him and named him Gertrude and from then on used him as their personal, portable jungle gym.

And also, one time, the third born - six at the time, beat me at a 3 week straight game of Simpsons Monopoly.
if you need me to extract everything cool about that sentence, I will. Six year old. 3 week long game. Simpsons. Beat me.*

I read their mothers novels while laying across her couch.

Later on in life I will jaunt down extensive notes titled "W.W.J.D.?" when in crisis as a parent. The J here is for Julianna - as in, this Julianna.

She also writes this blog - http://bridgetasher.com/blog.html

she wrote one entry in which she refers to a baby sitter who is obviously neither me or Joanna and my heart broke inside a little.

This weekend however, in between the excitement that is Alpha Chi Omega's 80th anniversary on campus - seeing all of my old sisters and reuniting with the town that turned me from a child into an adult, Joanna and I get to spend time with the wonder kids. And that's what I'm most excited about.

*because of this fateful June, I now hate monopoly. and no, I didn't let him win. He destroyed me.

Thats what she said

First week in Charleston went great.

I got a job.

Jeff and I kicked ass in a trivia game at a local bar.

and, most notably, we made friends with people on craigs list.

true story.

they're coming to trivia with us next week.

We knew it was true love because within 2 minutes of meeting each other, Jeff made a really inside Office joke and they got it.

match made in heaven on craigs list.

It's like first grade. I want my shiny new toy.

When I went to walmart a few days ago to buy some odds and ends for the new place (Read, mommy was in town and wanted to stock our kitchen with food before she left) I saw a sign saying that Walmart would be releasing Twilight on DVD at midnight of the 21st instead of...ya know, like 9 am.

Y'all - (I live in South Carolina now, I can say y'all) I had every intention of being there at midnight tonight and Jeff had even promised to go with me. I was going to be there despite the fact that I imagined in my head maybe 4 or 5 other people standing around waiting for it - kinda like the time I spent the night at my friend Casey's house when I was 15 so she could wake up and drive me to the mall at 9am on the dot so I could buy the new blink182 cd because I was certain I wouldn't get a copy even if I got there as soon as the music store opened...only to find out that - no - not every one wanted a copy.
no one did.

And seriously, on a scale of really shitty things, Take Off Your Pants and Jacket is Oscar worthy compared to this stupid movie that I saw 5 times in the theaters already.

But I rrreeeaaalllyyy want it.

NNNOOOWWW.

But then, I got a job. (yay!) and I'm really tired, and have to work tomorrow, and ditto Jeff.

So I decided I'll get it later.

But I rrreeeaaaalllllyyy want it.
NNNOOOOWWW.
aaannnndddd I think it's a legitimate concern that this thing will sell out tonight.

Borders is have a midnight thingy too...but...but...

thats all I've got.

...Jo???
um...Joanna...ahem...um...I was wondering...ya know if...remember how you were gonna send me a copy because you have a cool job and had a few copies of twilight a few days ago and then I told you I would rather buy it myself then wait for it in the mail...um...


I love you jo.

Probably karma

I've never lived on the first floor of an apartment so either the person who lives above us is ripping out her floors and installing new closets and getting a brand new washer and dryer up three flights of stairs or I hate my life.

Dear Brittany,

Quit your bitchin.

Love,

Sarah and all of her gold plated glory

Eat Your Heart Out, South Carolina!

To be honest, I don't know what that means, but we're here!

We haven't much left the confines of our apartment in two days, but having a living space that doesn't make you go into a claustrophobic conniptions is number one on our priority.

Number two is getting me a job.

Number one and a half, however, is finding a good Irish pub to get some st. patties day beverages!

Does Not Play Well With Others

My pinky finger won't join the rest of his finger brethren and instead has chosen to stay as far away from them as possible. It's weird - if I consciously force the pinky back together then as soon as I look away he has outstretched himself again like I'm enjoying some damn delicious cup of fancy tea.
I probably wouldn't have even noticed if it weren't for the slight strained ache I feel when it is either far away or too close. What is going on?

I hope I'm not evolving out of my pinky because...for obvious reason*, that doesn't make and sense at all.


*enjoying damn delicious cups of fancy tea

Dear Liver, I'm sorry.

Portrait of an engagement party:


Portraits of the bar after the engagement party:

Don't stop believing.

Exploring the darker side of Tweets and Twitter

Please listen to this awesome three minute radio story about Twitter

that will be all.

James Monroe Howell

Last month, my Papa, who played guitar every Saturday night in a band, who kept a beautiful garden around his koi pond in his back yard, who went on cruises and dates with younger women (she's in her 60's? you dog!) wasn't feeling well and drove himself to the hospital a few towns away.



He was told that night that he wasn't aloud to leave the hospital until he was placed in hospice care and he had 3 to 6 months to live.



He didn't care.



Living like a vegetable, doped up on morphine, not being able to get out of bed to use the bathroom - he told me several times in his mumbly incoherence that he wished he never gotten in his car that day last month.



Last night he died.

I'll miss you, but I sure am glad knowing that you're not suffering anymore.




Although, I'm pretty disappointed you didn't make good on your deal.

Getting a life, here I'll show you how

So the other night Jeff and I went to Starbucks to hang out like the yuppies that we are*.

It was packed and not many seating options to choose from so I picked a little 2 seater thing in the back corner. My back was facing the wall which meant I was looking out amongst the crowd like I was Queen 'Bucks and these were all of my coffee constituency. The table sitting directly in front of me was three older ladies - mid 50's probably - gabbing away like friends do. Totally done up to the T's and kind of evil looking. So one of the ladies, the leader I gathered, was sitting facing me, and, as will happen when in a small, loud, crowded building, our eyes met a few times while we were both engaged in conversation with out parties. (i.e. - Jeff for me, Cruella Devil and Ursela for her). This didn't strike me in any fashion because peoples eyes meet when they are scoping rooms, but then with huge arm gestures, Cinderella's Evil Step Mother started pointing at me and saying "No really! She is talking about us talking about her. Right. Now. She just caught me. But she was totally talking about us, and now she is talking about us talking about her!" And like clock work, Ursula craned her neck around and eagerly agreed with E.S.M.

"Oh my god! You're right! She is totally talking about us!" and then proceeded to whip her neck around 3 or 4 more times.

Now, unless they own moving van companies, are currently living with Jeff's parents for the next few weeks, or have some kind of insight on the casting of New Moon (Jeff hates me), I'm certain we wern't talking about them in the least bit.

And of course I didn't say anything to Jeff until after they got up to leave because I certainly didn't want to actually give them the satisfaction of hearing me talk about them, but thats what they did until they left - talk about me talking about them...which...you know...wasn't actually happening.

I sure am glad that my insecurities aren't half that degree and I'm only half their age.

and prettier.

now I'm talking about you, bitches.



*Read, we are flat broke and Jeff got a major Starbucks gift card for his birthday so we can go get out of the house and not spend a dime.