tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54686145221228878282024-03-18T22:12:55.168-06:00Random Musings From A Single GalStacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.comBlogger198125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-15057824514893178342014-10-23T13:47:00.000-06:002014-10-23T13:47:08.659-06:00Conversations with My Massage TherapistLast night I got a much needed massage. I love my massage therapist. He is a hoot. Typically when I go to get a massage I just want to sleep and not talk. I told him that the first time I went to him. He said ok I can do that. That was a year ago and he hasn't stopped talking since. He's so funny though that I really don't mind.<br />
<br />
Some examples:<br />
<br />
Me: Ouch! That hurts! Too hard!<br />
Him: Anytime you feel any discomfort just let me know.<br />
Me: Um, yeah, I thought I just did.<br />
Him: Just speak up annnnnytime now. Don't be afraid to say something.<br />
<br />
Him (while shaking out my arm and causing all sorts of seismic activity under my sheet): Isn't it weird that some of my clients feel uncomfortable when they're jiggling all over the place?<br />
Me: Yeah, I was just thinking if you weren't already gay I probably just turned you.<br />
<br />
Me (in the middle of some crazy medieval stretches): Am I covered well enough?<br />
Him: Believe me honey, I'm not trying to look anywhere. Nobody wants to see your kitty cat.<br />
<br />
Me: Am I your wimpiest client?<br />
Him: No of course not.<br />
A minute later<br />
Him: But you're definitely in my top 5.<br />
Me: Ouch<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-63895432921131396892014-10-13T10:50:00.000-06:002014-10-13T10:50:43.701-06:00Happy Get Fatter for Free Week!Yep, it's my birthday week. I'm turning...well you don't need to know that. A woman never reveals her age or her weight. All you need to know is that I'm old, and I'm fat.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7wYLEZYICUdOL4d0R13gg5f936sHOkS0WhDE1FnlPtnaq6GvW8_U2Rqpw56fvbvFzpwBnKroL6agrFPGdpKTNXXIY7w6KnTQ4IpqbFLOAw8DSk6o9ifGqjVCbR7ydkZHqiNR_zPJbfVX/s1600/chin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF7wYLEZYICUdOL4d0R13gg5f936sHOkS0WhDE1FnlPtnaq6GvW8_U2Rqpw56fvbvFzpwBnKroL6agrFPGdpKTNXXIY7w6KnTQ4IpqbFLOAw8DSk6o9ifGqjVCbR7ydkZHqiNR_zPJbfVX/s1600/chin.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My birthday is a kind of a big deal to me. I just love the excitement of it. I love being spoiled. I love cake! I mean, I REALLY LOVE CAKE!!!! I used to have friends that don't like cake, but I didn't need that kind of negativity in my life so I unfriended them. <br />
<br />
The best thing about birthdays is the countless emails of free food that you get. Olive Garden. Famous Daves. Red Robin (Yummmmmmm). Cafe Zupas. and the list goes on. And on. And on.<br />
<br />
Except for Thanksgiving and Christmas, it's the one week of the year that you can eat to your heart's content without the guilt. Or the calories. Oh, you didn't know that any calories you consume the week of your birthday don't count? Well, now you do. You're welcome...it's my birthday gift to you!Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-69137385585769991052014-02-13T18:29:00.001-07:002014-02-13T18:29:12.684-07:00Addicted to LoveI have a new boyfriend. My sister introduced me to him about a year ago. She was really into him for a while but soon lost interest and passed him on to me.<br />
<br />
His name is Bubble Witch Saga.<br />
<br />
Seriously though. I've got a problem. I can't stop playing. It's all I think about. It's the first thing I reach for on my phone in the morning and the last thing I do before bed. I dream about it at night. I think about strategies while waiting for lives to renew. I find myself feeling grateful that it's slow at work so i can play it on my phone AND on my work computer.<br />
<br />
Do they have 12 step programs for this?<br />
<br />
Help me!!<br />
<br />
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Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-2882337211997333032011-11-30T10:39:00.000-07:002011-11-30T10:39:51.095-07:00Santa is DeliciousMy sister and I moved in to our house a little over 5 years ago. Though we always decorate for Christmas, in that time we have never put up a Christmas tree. This is for several reasons, but more specifically the last 3 years because of our little <strike>terror</strike> angel Mimi the Wonder Chihuahua.<br />
<br />
The first year that we had this little bundle of satan, she ate a Christmas wreathe. Not just nibbled....devoured. Destroyed. Have you seen the birthing scene from the new Twilight movie yet? It was something akin to that. Styrofoam, needles, ribbon were scattered all throughout the upstairs...even stuck to the ceiling. It was then and there that we decided no Christmas tree for us!<br />
<br />
This year however, my sister bought a pre-lit Christmas tree that she's been coveting for 3 years and so we decided to go ahead and try it. Mimi is almost 4 now and hasn't really eaten anything too detrimental lately. We set up the tree last Saturday, plugged in the lights, put up the garland, and decided to wait til the next day to see how she did with it. Surprisingly she showed absolutely no interest. So on Sunday we put up the ornaments. <br />
<br />
Every day we come home we check to make sure the tree is still standing. So far everything has been intact!<br />
<br />
.........Until this morning.<br />
<br />
As I walked by Mimi's chair I happened to look down at her collection of stuffed toys that she keeps close watch on. Sitting on the very tippy top, under her little paw, was a little stuffed Santa ornament. I couldn't help but laugh. Since the tree was in tact and there was no sign of mischief, I imagine her sitting on her throne, checking out the target, choosing her intended victim and then ever so delicately slipping Mr. Clause off the tree with her sneaky little teeth.<br />
<br />
She's a naughty one all right....but oh does she keep us laughing!Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-55177901899997934542011-10-19T12:34:00.000-06:002011-10-19T12:34:54.083-06:00Wordless Wednesday - Have you missed me?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2svjOijOeeqk0UNpus3xWlBT9mYkm3TQ2SOyKvYfk8ZqfJY42p6nI_ncxtKAZ9C29VlAcvVEI7HR0XwKJUZl-h16-fRFUihAbEBdVvr5U3GBxZ79nYLQi02S6yykko9rb7mA0QUzJBbG/s1600/lionel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw2svjOijOeeqk0UNpus3xWlBT9mYkm3TQ2SOyKvYfk8ZqfJY42p6nI_ncxtKAZ9C29VlAcvVEI7HR0XwKJUZl-h16-fRFUihAbEBdVvr5U3GBxZ79nYLQi02S6yykko9rb7mA0QUzJBbG/s1600/lionel.jpg" /></a></div>Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-25060545058488357302011-09-09T16:23:00.000-06:002011-09-09T16:23:48.189-06:00Doing the Can Can<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lately I've been hit by the domestic stick. Which is better than being hit by the ugly stick, but still quite painful.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Last year I decided to can for the first time. Ok, to be honest, 2 years ago I decided to can for the first time. I made some questionable raspberry jam and some really nasty applesauce. They were both so horrible that we're just going to pretend it never even happened. This is my blog so I can do what I wanna do.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So last year I decided to can for the first time. I bought a book of canning recipes and did a lot of research on line. And bought a really lot of fruit. I had some success with canned peaches and apple sauce, which I dubbed cracklesauce because it was just that addictive.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I started <strike>stalking</strike> reading food blogs and became <strike>obsessed with</strike> more interested in learning about the process. I've hounded my old lady friends and stocked up on tips and suggestions. I enlisted my friend Amy (since my sister could not be less interested in canning) and over labor day weekend created the following masterpiece:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFQDNIAXlr0z-XRtpYEWFS6xFnvDih-EZKefDeAoIK6o-djcUJ2JdLYBFvHQTsgrnyto5InunImDAjnv4kOVLceYeGz7n7uWHD2_x__QI0t0z0lfVBQCVHQD8Hx8_xpeqwslVmsSFKOIV/s1600/canning.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFQDNIAXlr0z-XRtpYEWFS6xFnvDih-EZKefDeAoIK6o-djcUJ2JdLYBFvHQTsgrnyto5InunImDAjnv4kOVLceYeGz7n7uWHD2_x__QI0t0z0lfVBQCVHQD8Hx8_xpeqwslVmsSFKOIV/s320/canning.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> In case you are wondering, that would be:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Canned Peaches, peach sorbet (heaven), frozen peaches, salsa, tomato sauce, canned tomatoes, peach jam, triple berry jam and raspberry peach freezer jam. Not pictured is jalapeno jelly and another round of cracklesauce.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was a lot of hard work but I loved doing it. I have a couple more things I want to make before I pack up my supplies for the season. Whatever will I do to keep myself busy this fall? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I need to learn a new talent.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh, and remember when I said my sister could not be less interested? I have proof ala her recent facebook post.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;">I think my sister is trying to be the next "Pioneer Woman." First the obsession with gardening...now with canning...what's next? Sewing our own clothes and chasing chickens around the yard with a hatchet and a cry of "Here, chickie, chickie?""</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Smart aleck</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">.</span>Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-70946641437722653292011-08-22T11:25:00.001-06:002011-08-22T11:27:17.481-06:00I Always Feel Like Somebody's Watching Me<div style="text-align: center;">Does anyone remember that song from the 80s? It was a gooder, for sure!</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">This morning I was out watering the plants in the back corner of my yard. It's in a very shaded area, with my neighbor's pine tree covering a lot of it. As I was standing there, lost in my thoughts, humming along to Ke$ha, I felt like someone was looking at me. <br />
<br />
I looked up and gasped as I saw this peaking out from the trees.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinSN853UAzol-ytcskhVzDBz7HjbuaY9L5JIWSH0Wt9sBcWpvS3GN6ygfc-2jrMJQsWYYCy1kaHwne058zUuL3dAGVPsfUVoZrgE-MKmb32-IxKtSiCbkuqW_KXmMW2YPxh3Bh-W-LcMnY/s400/Stalker+Kitty.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yes, it was Stealth Kitty...watching my every move! I got a good chuckle and then of course grabbed my camera phone. SK played peak a boo for a few minutes, slowly poking his head back up and then down again. Then he got tired of the game and crept away.</div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-38612031159385977682011-08-17T17:16:00.001-06:002011-08-17T17:21:35.647-06:00A Hilarious Email Exchange<div id="rightmiddle"><b>From:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Date:</b> Wednesday 8 Oct 2008 12.19pm<br />
<b>To:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Overdue account<br />
<br />
Dear David, Our records indicate that your account is overdue by the amount of $233.95. If you have already made this payment please contact us within the next 7 days to confirm payment has been applied to your account and is no longer outstanding.<br />
Yours sincerely, Jane Gilles<br />
********************************************************************************<br />
<b>From:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Date:</b> Wednesday 8 Oct 2008 12.37pm<br />
<b>To:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: Overdue account<br />
<br />
Dear Jane, I do not have any money so am sending you this drawing I did of a spider instead. I value the drawing at $233.95 so trust that this settles the matter.<br />
Regards, David.<br />
<br />
<img alt="" border="0" height="144" src="http://www.27bslash6.com/images/spiderdrawing.gif" width="200" /><br />
********************************************************************************<br />
<b>From:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Date: </b>Thursday 9 Oct 2008 10.07am<br />
<b>To:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Overdue account<br />
<br />
Dear David,<br />
Thank you for contacting us. Unfortunately we are unable to accept drawings as payment and your account remains in arrears of $233.95. Please contact us within the next 7 days to confirm payment has been applied to your account and is no longer outstanding.<br />
Yours sincerely, Jane Gilles<br />
********************************************************************************<br />
<b>From:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Date:</b> Thursday 9 Oct 2008 10.32am<br />
<b>To:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: Overdue account<br />
<br />
Dear Jane,<br />
Can I have my drawing of a spider back then please.<br />
Regards, David.<br />
********************************************************************************<br />
<b>From:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Date:</b> Thursday 9 Oct 2008 11.42am<br />
<b>To:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: Re: Overdue account<br />
<br />
Dear David,<br />
You emailed the drawing to me. Do you want me to email it back to you?<br />
Yours sincerely, Jane Gilles<br />
********************************************************************************<br />
<b>From:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Date:</b> Thursday 9 Oct 2008 11.56am<br />
<b>To:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: Re: Re: Overdue account<br />
<br />
Dear Jane,<br />
Yes please.<br />
Regards, David.<br />
********************************************************************************<br />
<b>From:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Date: </b>Thursday 9 Oct 2008 12.14pm<br />
<b>To: </b>David Thorne<br />
<b>Subject: </b>Re: Re: Re: Re: Overdue account<br />
<br />
Attached <spider.gif><br />
<img alt="" border="0" height="144" src="http://www.27bslash6.com/images/spiderdrawing.gif" width="200" /><br />
</spider.gif>********************************************************************************<spider.gif><b> </b></spider.gif><br />
<spider.gif><b>From:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Date:</b> Friday 10 Oct 2008 09.22am<br />
<b>To:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Subject: </b>Whose spider is that?<br />
Dear Jane,<br />
Are you sure this drawing of a spider is the one I sent you? This spider only has seven legs and I do not feel I would have made such an elementary mistake when I drew it.<br />
Regards, David.<br />
</spider.gif>********************************************************************************<spider.gif><b> </b></spider.gif><br />
<spider.gif><b>From:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Date:</b> Friday 10 Oct 2008 11.03am<br />
<b>To:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: Whose spider is that?<br />
Dear David,<br />
Yes it is the same drawing. I copied and pasted it from the email you sent me on the 8th. David your account is still overdue by the amount of $233.95.<br />
Please make this payment as soon as possible.<br />
Yours sincerely, Jane Gilles<br />
</spider.gif>********************************************************************************<spider.gif><b> </b></spider.gif><br />
<spider.gif><b>From:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Date:</b> Friday 10 Oct 2008 11.05am<br />
<b>To:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Automated Out of Office Response<br />
Thankyou for contacting me.<br />
I am currently away on leave, traveling through time and will be returning last week.<br />
Regards, David.</spider.gif><br />
********************************************************************************<br />
<spider.gif> <b>From:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Date:</b> Friday 10 Oct 2008 11.08am<br />
<b>To:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: Re: Whose spider is that?<br />
Hello, I am back and have read through your emails and accept that despite missing a leg, that drawing of a spider may indeed be the one I sent you. I realise with hindsight that it is possible you rejected the drawing of a spider due to this obvious limb ommission but did not point it out in an effort to avoid hurting my feelings. As such, I am sending you a revised drawing with the correct number of legs as full payment for any amount outstanding. I trust this will bring the matter to a conclusion.<br />
Regards, David.<br />
<img alt="" border="0" height="150" src="http://www.27bslash6.com/images/spiderdrawing2.gif" width="200" /><br />
</spider.gif>********************************************************************************<spider.gif><b> </b></spider.gif><br />
<spider.gif><b>From:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Date:</b> Monday 13 Oct 2008 2.51pm<br />
<b>To:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: Re: Re: Whose spider is that?<br />
Dear David,<br />
As I have stated, we do not accept drawings in lei of money for accounts outstanding. We accept cheque, bank cheque, money order or cash. Please make a payment this week to avoid incurring any additional fees.<br />
Yours sincerely, Jane Gilles</spider.gif><br />
********************************************************************************<br />
<spider.gif> <b>From:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Date:</b> Monday 13 Oct 2008 3.17pm<br />
<b>To:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Subject:</b> Re: Re: Re: Re: Whose spider is that?<br />
I understand and will definitely make a payment this week if I remember. As you have not accepted my second drawing as payment, please return the drawing to me as soon as possible. It was silly of me to assume I could provide you with something of completely no value whatsoever, waste your time and then attach such a large amount to it.<br />
Regards, David.<br />
</spider.gif>********************************************************************************<spider.gif><b> </b></spider.gif><br />
<spider.gif><b>From:</b> Jane Gilles<br />
<b>Date:</b> Tuesday 14 Oct 2008 11.18am<br />
<b>To:</b> David Thorne<br />
<b>Subject: </b>Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Whose spider is that?<br />
Attached <spider2.gif><br />
<img alt="" border="0" height="150" src="http://www.27bslash6.com/images/spiderdrawing2.gif" width="200" /></spider2.gif></spider.gif></div>Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-33122958805433512552011-06-23T14:16:00.000-06:002011-06-23T14:16:24.973-06:00I'm Confused About the NipplesA few weeks ago I had the blessed experience of passing a 2nd kidney stone. So fun.<br />
<br />
Anyway, one night my kidney must have been hurting particularly badly while I was sleeping because I had the following dream:<br />
<br />
I was on a cruise with my family and I got called in to the ship's doctor's office. They had received an emergency transmission from my doctor back home with my x-ray results. I had been diagnosed with a terminal kidney disease. My kidneys were filling up with tiny little nipples and creating a blockage. I was astounded! (It was particularly hard for me to hear because I am allergic to the word nipples. And any other embarrassing female body part for that matter). I asked her to clarify, "Did you say N-I-P-P-L-E-S?" She said "Yes, Nipples. It's Extremely rare!"<br />
<br />
The prognosis was not good. This extremely rare disease was going to kill me in 19 - 99 years. And I could no longer eat any food. None. No Food! Ever! Again! They needed to immediately hook me up to a food drip. I argued with the nurse that I had already eaten breakfast so I didn't need it today, and that I was on a cruise ship filled with food! Couldn't I just have the drip for breakfast and lunch and eat a sensible dinner? The obvious answer was no. Drastic measures had to be taken immediately.<br />
<br />
So, like any girl who loves cake would do, I woke up crying. It took me a minute to realize it was just a crazy dream. <br />
<br />
As I was telling my sister about it, we were able to understand most of it. We had gone to a bbq the night before and talked about the cruise and how amazing the food was. We had also discussed buying slim fast at Costco that same day and you know their policy...a shake for breakfast and lunch and 1 sensible meal for dinner. My sister then said "Well, I guess it all makes sense. But I'm still confused about the nipples".<br />
<br />
I said "Well sister, It's extremely rare!" Which has now become our new catch phrase.Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-84940802524015839702011-05-20T13:15:00.000-06:002011-05-20T13:15:40.200-06:00New Office Policy<div> <div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Effective June<span style="color: #031ac5;"><span style="color: #031ac5;"> </span></span>1, 2011</span></span></b></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span> <span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: blue;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> NEW OFFICE POLICY</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b> Dress Code:</b></span> <span style="font-size: small;"><span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> 1) You are advised to come to work dressed according to<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>your salary.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> 2) If we see you wearing Prada shoes and carrying a<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>Gucci bag, we will assume you are doing well financially<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>and therefore do not need a raise.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> 3) If you dress poorly, you need to learn to manage your<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>money better, so that you may buy nicer clothes, and<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>therefore you do not need a raise.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> 4) If you dress just right, you are right where you need<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>to be and therefore you do not need a raise.<b><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Sick Days:</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> We will no longer accept a doctor's statement as proof<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>of sickness. If you are able to go to the doctor, you are able to come to work.<b><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Personal Days:</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> Each employee will receive 104 personal days a year.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> They are called Saturdays & Sundays. <b><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></b></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></b></span></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Bereavement Leave:</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> This is no excuse for missing work. There is nothing you can do for dead friends,<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>relatives or co-workers. Every effort should be made to have non-employees attend the funeral arrangements in your place. In rare cases where employee involvement is<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>necessary, the funeral should be scheduled in the late afternoon. We will be glad to<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>allow you to work through your lunch hour and subsequently leave one hour early.<b><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Bathroom Breaks:</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> Entirely too much time is being spent in the toilet.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> There is now a strict three-minute time limit in the<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>stalls. At the end of three minutes, an alarm will<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>sound, the toilet paper roll will retract, the stall<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>door will open, and a picture will be taken. After your<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>second offense, your picture will be posted on the<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>company bulletin board under the 'Chronic Offenders'<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>category. Anyone caught smiling in the picture will be<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>sectioned under the company's mental health policy.<b><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></b></span><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></b><b><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lunch Break:</span></b></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> * Skinny people get 30 minutes for lunch, as they need<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>to eat more, so that they can look healthy.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> * Normal size people get 15 minutes for lunch to get a<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>balanced meal to maintain their average figure.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> * Chubby people get 5 minutes for lunch, because that's<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>all the time needed to drink a Slim-Fast.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span> Thank you for your loyalty to our company. We are here<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>to provide a positive employment experience. Therefore,<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>all questions, comments, concerns, complaints,<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>frustrations, irritations, aggravations, insinuations,<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>allegations, accusations, contemplations, consternation<span style="color: navy;"><span style="color: navy;"> </span></span>and input should be directed elsewhere. </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <b><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Management</span></span></b></span></div></div>Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-91309023086040365772011-05-13T11:04:00.001-06:002011-05-13T11:06:50.339-06:00Friday Food For Thought<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGbknLdabT3trhLHm0VzwnuqRFzGtOcbS_3R0Oroq-WEr0pGEUh164zNFt79jjQi5SAsaWCvb5bFEB9QTmgl35eQm5zFm0PQxV5lCI0MsOEfzRqaFgNdA875hIESx3sry3hiUptyQjeCi/s1600/218429_10150245545877037_194810092036_9377024_530397_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGbknLdabT3trhLHm0VzwnuqRFzGtOcbS_3R0Oroq-WEr0pGEUh164zNFt79jjQi5SAsaWCvb5bFEB9QTmgl35eQm5zFm0PQxV5lCI0MsOEfzRqaFgNdA875hIESx3sry3hiUptyQjeCi/s320/218429_10150245545877037_194810092036_9377024_530397_o.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxPi2-DanblE6O6fjXWSUyiB5QyOI1djmtsS3Y-qy2_sgkLmY_w-CvFzxXR6sRbWIPiKV8gXh_QKGDhdxyml7kqcFhP98nkmK4S_o1t8NyybHcu78SPNkvifOtXkpUe3rWsU4lCDJ5yTGC/s1600/219287_10150246045912037_194810092036_9380144_168939_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxPi2-DanblE6O6fjXWSUyiB5QyOI1djmtsS3Y-qy2_sgkLmY_w-CvFzxXR6sRbWIPiKV8gXh_QKGDhdxyml7kqcFhP98nkmK4S_o1t8NyybHcu78SPNkvifOtXkpUe3rWsU4lCDJ5yTGC/s400/219287_10150246045912037_194810092036_9380144_168939_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-21833243248046284372011-05-02T09:34:00.001-06:002011-05-02T10:52:24.282-06:00They Found Me!!!<div style="text-align: center;">Apparently my taking 2 1/2 weeks and then some off work was unacceptable,<br />
because guess who showed up at my house today?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmrs7w8HjInzD0ATBGLOD398sPX1RdPJn3m-z-W84GlcCYsbkKu1LcgMkAJDuhgHQvhT2a2_ANMle2TOju2BIe4ezUf4QCwHDk5XaFVUosU9ZAjnWaUwEnb1eQ51G6cWAZZZ2tuMKsnvdL/s1600/ducks2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmrs7w8HjInzD0ATBGLOD398sPX1RdPJn3m-z-W84GlcCYsbkKu1LcgMkAJDuhgHQvhT2a2_ANMle2TOju2BIe4ezUf4QCwHDk5XaFVUosU9ZAjnWaUwEnb1eQ51G6cWAZZZ2tuMKsnvdL/s320/ducks2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRcwN_DEU-bi3oW4ICFexLptMywZXienTUxS3UL4ic8Lt6u4Q9E_vvw7mNRH4aVj2jQTQMxEqB2iVOZXjeDYB_HMi-YdxT0vXD5wqV3q_GGRpFTCXIf0S9rVP3tvQKk9fy3kqbZacmEUl/s1600/ducks1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRcwN_DEU-bi3oW4ICFexLptMywZXienTUxS3UL4ic8Lt6u4Q9E_vvw7mNRH4aVj2jQTQMxEqB2iVOZXjeDYB_HMi-YdxT0vXD5wqV3q_GGRpFTCXIf0S9rVP3tvQKk9fy3kqbZacmEUl/s320/ducks1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">What the Duck, dude? There is no pond or lake ANYWHERE NEAR MY HOUSE!!!! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't know how they found my house, but I considered putting them in my car and taking them back to work with me. Because they obviously tracked me from there! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It's not just me right? That's creepy?! </div>Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-18827272964043445162011-04-28T16:55:00.000-06:002011-04-28T16:55:07.799-06:00She's Alive! Alive!Hello Friends!<br />
<br />
I've survived my surgery, and I'm starting to get my funny back. I will be posting again real quick like!<br />
<br />
My mom has been in town for 5 weeks and has helped me out immeasurably. She leaves tomorrow and I'm pretty sure I will fall apart without her. If only my dumb dad didn't have to have a dumb job and they didn't have to live so dumb far away!<br />
<br />
Ok, my dad isn't dumb. <br />
<br />
But I will miss my Mommy!Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-24227970639034620212011-03-18T10:20:00.000-06:002011-03-18T10:20:13.265-06:00The Boys are Back in TownAnd by the Boys, I mean......<br />
<br />
<br />
The Geese. <br />
<br />
But there's no cool song that talks about Geese. Except maybe Geese Lightening (insert collective inward groan here).<br />
<br />
So anyway, a few weeks ago I was having a really bad day. The kind that only mint chocolate cake from Harmon's can fix. As I drove in to the parking lot I had to stop to let 3 geese cross my path. That should have been my first clue. I walked in to Harmon's and guess what.....No Mint Cake! Agh! Curses!<br />
<br />
I walked around the store in a funk, not sure what to do. Because honestly, I really wanted that Mint Cake. And once I get a craving in my head, no amount of other food is going to cut it. I can't remember what I ended up with. Something gross I'm sure.<br />
<br />
As I drove back to work, I remembered that the geese had also been the parking lot that morning as I got out of my car. So I hate to say it, but really, those geese caused my terrible horrible no good very bad day.<br />
<br />
Today as I was walking in to work I heard a crazy amount of honking. I looked up, expecting to see them flying over head. But instead they were sitting along the roof of my building! Like Gargoyles, guarding the building. It was seriously creepy! Even the dude walking in with me said he had never seen that before.<br />
<br />
Fortunately I kept the following thought to myself :"Holy crap! How on earth did they get up there?". <br />
<br />
Duh. Geese fly. I mean, really, I was seconds away from saying this out loud and looking like a complete ignoramus!<br />
<br />
And of course I walked in to work and was immediately met with bad news.<br />
<br />
<br />
Why do they hate me?<br />
<br />
<br />
And now I want mint cake. Damn Geese.Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-12126973046085018792011-03-17T11:33:00.000-06:002011-03-17T11:33:25.390-06:00Happy St Patty's DayMay you find a pot of gold at the end of your rainbow!<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, I only seem to find gay men at the end of mine.Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-68398425377031216422011-03-08T23:47:00.001-07:002011-03-08T23:51:30.161-07:00Things you don't expect to hearI have had many strange conversations over the past couple of weeks. Some have been fantastically strange in a hysterical, "Oh my gosh, did you JUST say that?!!!" kind of way. Others have been so terrifyingly sadly strange in a hushed "Oh my gosh, did you just say that?" kind of way.<br />
<br />
It's interesting to stand back and look at the lives of those around us and see both the struggles and triumphs that happen to ourselves, our friends and our acquaintances.<br />
<br />
Here is a sampling of actual things that people have said to me recently:<br />
<br />
"I am finally pregnant!!! (from 2 different friends that have both been trying for several months!)<br />
"My husband has colon cancer"<br />
"Would you think it was weird if you were getting a massage and your massage therapist took her shirt off?"<br />
"I don't know why I don't just slit my wrists and end it all now"<br />
"All I wanna do is a zooma zoom zoom and a boom boom"<br />
"Funeral services for my sister will be held at...."<br />
"Oh you're having a hysterectomy?! I had one in November...you'll LOVE it!" (she really was serious)<br />
"My co-worker said her house burned down. And then it burned down again a week later"<br />
<br />
And my favorite....<br />
<br />
Me to a lady at church in a cast: "What happened?! Did your husband throw you down the stairs?"<br />
Her response: "Oh, I was bit by a camel"<br />
<br />
Yes...Really.Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-44479289608783633952011-03-04T11:02:00.000-07:002011-03-04T11:02:14.206-07:00In the blink of an eye....<div style="text-align: center;">Yesterday I received some shocking news.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">At 38 years old, I am having a hysterectomy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I knew I was having problems, which is why I went to the doctor in the first place.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But this was not the answer I expected.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I talked with the doctor and laughed and joked. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">While my insides were screaming.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And the tears were fighting against their natural instinct to pour down my face.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As I called my mom I couldn't hold it in anymore. I started sobbing. And had to pull the car over.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then I had to get on with my day. Go to work. Tell my boss. Email friends.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Breathe.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Pray.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Eat lots of chocolate.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Today I feel calm, though slightly more numb.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I feel this is the right decision.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Though the knowledge that I will never have children is crushing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Breathe.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Pray some more.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I know Heavenly Father is sending me comfort through the peace that I feel.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And through the words of kindness from my friends and family.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">I know it's all right to cry some more.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And eat more chocolate.</div>Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-41439223293035798932011-02-23T01:13:00.000-07:002011-02-23T01:13:48.557-07:00A little seriousness on a Tuesday nightReading my friend <a href="http://rebecca-belle.blogspot.com/">Rebecca Jo's blog</a> tonight (er...I guess this morning since it's 1:08 a.m.....go to bed Stacy!), I found this line in her blog about attending a worship seminar with jr high kids from her church.<br />
<br />
In talking about them doing service for one another:<br />
<div style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: blue;"><u><i><b><br />
</b></i></u></div><div style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: blue;"><i><b>"It made my heart just smile... can only imagine what it did to God's."</b></i></div><br />
I love it. I wish I spent more time doing things that would make God smile. Never too late to make a goal, right? I'm on it!<br />
<br />
Thanks RJ for being a great example of how to be the Lord's Servant. Your church group is blessed to have you, and I feel blessed to call you a friend, even though we've never met in real life.Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-69055141892815122582011-02-16T20:34:00.000-07:002011-02-16T20:34:25.868-07:00Things I really SHOULD be doingI really should be at Walmart right now picking up my prescription, but I know I'd also buy a box <strike>or 20</strike> of fudge covered mint oreos because I just saw them on someone else's blog and now I've got a fever for the flavor. <br />
<br />
I really should be unpacking from my cruise....because I've been home for a month, and that's just plain embarrassing.<br />
<br />
I really should be working out. Or at least thinking about working out. But my fatness makes me too tired, and my too tiredness makes me not want to work out.<br />
<br />
I really should be preparing for my primary presidency meeting tomorrow night because I've got several things that need to be discussed. BUT so far the only plan I've made is for us all to meet at <a href="http://www.lantasfrozone.com/">Lanta's Frozone</a> because a) I love my friend Lanta, and b) tomorrow's flavor of the day is Peppermint, and I <u><b><i>REALLY</i></b></u> loves me some peppermint frozen custard.<br />
<br />
I really should be doing laundry because I've already worn these jeans to work twice this week and it's only Wednesday. And the other day that I wore them was....yesterday. shhhh.....<br />
<br />
I really should be emptying the dishwasher because my sister hates to do it and she does so many nice things for me all the time. And she's working late tonight. But I had to play Zuma Blitz on facebook for an hour because she has totally hijacked the game from me and this is my only time to use the computer.<br />
<br />
So in order to go to bed feeling good about myself, I'm going to do one thing on this list.<br />
<br />
I'm going to go get me some fudge covered mint oreos.Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-36033233421639042902011-02-15T12:11:00.001-07:002011-02-15T12:12:56.856-07:00Another One Bites the Dust<div style="text-align: center;">This is our new living room rug.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDe8TP-yJI1mE8YswB-L5iUf4crv4d4To6JvMTGdoGR6P2u4DNwu_z5OSs63_EfxS7e4out5bAKdpHCggQj_C2LMAdYBEdeUtUX0DgjZzD_C2klY9ddu-FzdoWlnUcXKEzWtt70AHVf8FO/s1600/rug1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDe8TP-yJI1mE8YswB-L5iUf4crv4d4To6JvMTGdoGR6P2u4DNwu_z5OSs63_EfxS7e4out5bAKdpHCggQj_C2LMAdYBEdeUtUX0DgjZzD_C2klY9ddu-FzdoWlnUcXKEzWtt70AHVf8FO/s320/rug1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Isn't it so cute?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is Mimi the Wonder Chihuahua on her very expensive Dog Bed</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuKi5R2PGEd-1z6N4Hh1e8GO5iozh9HbAInnZ755lG-MBYqvF-2v8EPrvdzIC_xoeVvrEhlDCgRbnwE1iBSXxiswTeMMCxGW7tasAkEhCNEsDDwFeaZSHX_GK5Ws076S440heHiUOqM3t6/s1600/mimi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuKi5R2PGEd-1z6N4Hh1e8GO5iozh9HbAInnZ755lG-MBYqvF-2v8EPrvdzIC_xoeVvrEhlDCgRbnwE1iBSXxiswTeMMCxGW7tasAkEhCNEsDDwFeaZSHX_GK5Ws076S440heHiUOqM3t6/s320/mimi.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Isn't she so precious?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is the spot where Mimi the Wonder Chihuahua </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">christened the new rug 2 days after we got it </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_mGJeVLsR_WI79bRXxjxiFSyemqH3ePGTmd2JxfNmw_FMdXYthVctIM9ZCsWkFdYGryiybh0kNzSqjRbEMryBdgheakmN6QY3g-_MhJUGIL-lAzHcz07kAxXkzwlDdv9V6v0cjdzRjQc/s1600/rug2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_mGJeVLsR_WI79bRXxjxiFSyemqH3ePGTmd2JxfNmw_FMdXYthVctIM9ZCsWkFdYGryiybh0kNzSqjRbEMryBdgheakmN6QY3g-_MhJUGIL-lAzHcz07kAxXkzwlDdv9V6v0cjdzRjQc/s320/rug2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I'm gonna miss that dog.</div>Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-75078578746193042722011-02-09T17:49:00.000-07:002011-02-09T17:49:44.429-07:00My (un)Glamorous LifeToday I walked in to the break room and 2 of my friends were talking about how they've had it with the rich snooty people in their lives. The conversation then went a little something like this:<br />
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Her: Sure, I've dated a millionaire, or 5 or 10. They aren't anything special and I never fell in love with them<br />
Me: Um...I've never dated a millionaire.<br />
Her (incredulously): YOU HAVEN'T????!!!<br />
Me: Uh...no<br />
Her: What?! Well come hang out with me for one night and see how things change.<br />
Me: I'm pretty sure nothing would change.<br />
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I should mention that this girl is gorgeous and has gorgeous friends. Important friends. Celebrity friends. Yeah, thanks but I think I'll sit this one out. I'd be like the little troll in the bunch. I am pretty darn sure my self esteem could not take a blow like that.Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-3946836577131417722011-02-04T13:13:00.000-07:002011-02-04T13:13:19.236-07:00You want my help with WHAT?!Last Sunday in primary one of the little 4 year old boys came up to me and held out his shoe. He doesn't talk very well and so I could only assume he wanted me to put it on for him. His teacher then told me that she had been trying and could not get it on.<br />
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Well, what this little innocent child with his messy hair and big blue eyes did not know is that he came to the wrong person for this! I am clothing assistant challenged. I can't put on children's shoes to save my life. Can't help them unbutton their pants, can't help them put on tights. I can't even zip my own jackets. Once my friend asked me help her put in her belly button ring and I almost died. First of all...eww, gross!...and 2nd of all, you're asking me, Miss Shaky Fingers, to put a medal object into a tiny little hole.. IN YOUR STOMACH???!!! Let's just say that event, though hysterically funny, was unsuccessful.<br />
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So I tried with all my might to put this shoe on the little boy. I pushed. I pulled. I turned his sock around. I held his sock tight. I grunted. I groaned. I cajoled. I begged. All useless. That shoe was NOT going back on his foot.<br />
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He was pretty upset at my failure, and REALLY wanted his shoe on, so admitting defeat I left to find his mother. After a few minutes of unsuccessful searching I went back and told him I couldn't find her and that he could just put his shoe under his chair until class was over.<br />
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A couple of minutes later, I looked over at him. He was happily chewing on his shoe. All was right in his little world again.Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-78465907152723968982011-01-25T11:26:00.000-07:002011-01-25T11:26:41.371-07:00Sir, are you TRYING to annoy me?This is Stacy, How can I help you?<br />
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Yes, I 'd like a brochure on Lake Powell.<br />
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I'm sorry, we don't have brochures. All of the information is on our website. Are there any questions I can answer for you?<br />
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Oh, so I can go online and download a brochure?<br />
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No, I'm sorry, we don't have any brochures.<br />
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So, you don't have like a brochure you can mail me?<br />
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No...WE DON'T HAVE ANY BROCHURES!!!!! (insert huge eye roll)Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-76088091455278801332011-01-24T09:42:00.000-07:002011-01-24T09:42:55.485-07:00MimigramsLast night I was lying in bed, minding my own business, tossing and turning like I often do whilst waiting to fall asleep.<br />
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Mimi the Wonder Chihuahua was feeling especially restless and could not get comfortable. She likes to burrow under the blankets and try to get as many of her body parts to touch as many of your body parts as possible. Usually she ends up in my armpit or under my leg.<br />
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Suddenly, without any warning, she leapt over me and landed directly on my chest. And by chest, I mean my left breast. Imagine a 14 lb weight slamming on to your boob without any warning. Yowchie! It's not a party, that's fo sho!<br />
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I know that when you turn 40 you are supposed to get a Mamogram every 5 years or something like that. But a Mimigram? I'm pretty sure those are not covered in my insurance plan.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP8DaLzrmlznCNZR7sHBBM3GA95OUTfCoj3mcVU20MA4OxOASyqv3aGpdsTjLJPBRxsvuwihTYkq0xck_6fLc_HGOOJo1h57oTR7I6fKRuXU51v89kHZa4Kjz_yrFYN63CFYDj4T2ftj6T/s1600/Mimi+and+her+bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP8DaLzrmlznCNZR7sHBBM3GA95OUTfCoj3mcVU20MA4OxOASyqv3aGpdsTjLJPBRxsvuwihTYkq0xck_6fLc_HGOOJo1h57oTR7I6fKRuXU51v89kHZa4Kjz_yrFYN63CFYDj4T2ftj6T/s320/Mimi+and+her+bed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5468614522122887828.post-75241798973740931872011-01-19T10:37:00.000-07:002011-01-19T10:37:05.660-07:00Wordless Wednesday - Photos from my Cruise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs766.ash1/165738_497547609570_534884570_5823584_1724126_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs766.ash1/165738_497547609570_534884570_5823584_1724126_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs785.ash1/167559_497547789570_534884570_5823591_5925280_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs785.ash1/167559_497547789570_534884570_5823591_5925280_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/hs021.snc6/165104_497547829570_534884570_5823593_7074199_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/hs021.snc6/165104_497547829570_534884570_5823593_7074199_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs771.ash1/166179_497549909570_534884570_5823633_62748_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash1/hs771.ash1/166179_497549909570_534884570_5823633_62748_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/hs038.snc6/166859_497546244570_534884570_5823530_8341123_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/hs038.snc6/166859_497546244570_534884570_5823530_8341123_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/hs056.snc6/168610_497547504570_534884570_5823580_7085237_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/hs056.snc6/168610_497547504570_534884570_5823580_7085237_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/hs023.snc6/165340_497547419570_534884570_5823576_5105635_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/hs023.snc6/165340_497547419570_534884570_5823576_5105635_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Stacy's Snippetshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13550418476991941459noreply@blogger.com4