Boob assault

When you are showering or changing at the gym, there are a few things you should remember:

Not everyone is as comfortable with your body as you are. Now, I realize that I am probably overly neurotic when it comes to covering up my body as I enter/exit the showering area. I put the towel over my body prior to taking off any undergarments. I put undergarments on while balancing my towel. *This can be pretty tricky and often involves holding towel with teeth.

Okay, it is one thing to throw the towel off in your naked glory to begin dressing yourself. It is quite another to walk around the locker room naked, have lengthy conversations, put on your make-up, blow dry your hair, and stretch out a little more after your workout. Remember that Seinfeld where he describes 'good naked, bad naked?' The previous examples I have described are all bad nakeds. They violate those around you. It is very difficult to have a conversation with a naked person whilst their pubes are braiding themselves in front of you. (okay not really, but I have an active imagination)


Added bonus: You can assure that your make-up compliments your outfit and not get makeup on your shirt while putting it on!

Not everyone wants to know whether or not the carpet matches the drapes. Enough said.

When naked, your personal bubble and all others around you gets notably larger. Again, I realize that I am weird and probably have a large personal bubble to begin with; but it is very bad etiquette to start getting dressed right next to someone else when there are plenty of other spots available for your dressing pleasure.

Don't ever touch anyone with any body part of yours, not even to shake hands, while either of you are naked. I once was assaulted by a woman's boob. Seriously. She was violating all of the rules above when she swiftly turned in my direction. It was horrible. I felt like I was in a war movie when the music gets all dramatic and it's in slow-mo and I could see the boob coming but I couldn't do anything to stop it because life really doesn't go in slow motion. It was a large boob. *shudder* I think I may suffer PTSD from this boob-slap to my arm. It was terrifying. I need time to rest now.

Okay, I forgot about this one. I was about 8 or 9 and I was in a swimming pool locker room. I was getting ready for the pool as this woman props her leg up on the bench I was sitting on and does what? She commences to shave her southern region. Yes. Shaves it. In the middle of a locker room. In front of small children. Okay, that is all.

LOLs defined and I may have meningitis

I am completely useless tonight and have nothing to write about. It may be because I might be suffering from a case of meningitis. More on that later. First, since I hope to become good internet friends with an abundance of people so I feel important and funny. In anticipation of this, I would like to give you guys the code on my 'lol' system.

lol- I am humoring adoring you and acknowledging that you think what you said was funny. I may or may not have been amused by your comment, but most definitely did not crack a smile. *it is also possible that I am feeling too lazy to use the shift key.

LOL-You have amused me. I probably sideways smiled or smiled without show of teeth. I like how that almost sounds like I could be a rabid animal. I can imagine a phone call to some animal rescue center when you are all scared of some animal and they are all like, "is there of show of teeth?"

rofl-Your comment made me smile and I may have chuckled a bit.

ROFL- I most definitely chuckled. You are funny.

lmao- Either what you said was pretty funny or I am trying to pretend that I am edgy and capable of saying ass. In reality, it's not like I don't curse, but it certainly does not come natural enough to me to say that I was 'laughing my ass off.' I probably actually laughed out loud. I reserve this for a laugh, not a chuckle.

LMAO- Okay, I am to the point of a good, solid laugh.

LOLOLOL or lololol- I don't just use this for anything. I am belly laughing...and I want YOU to know that.

lololol......lolololol....lol.....lol- The continued posting of lols most definitely means that I am laughing continuously, most likely with tears running down my face.

ROFL...LOLOL....LOLOL....lol...brb- Congratulations, you officially made me pee my pants. Thanks a lot. You owe me 50 cents in laundering fees. Just kidding.

*Any use of exclamation points adds emphasis to your category of 'lol.' Excessive use of exclamation points may put your lol at a higher category.


I am pretty sure that the lol has gone out of control on the internet and is widely overused by mildly amused people not knowing what to say in response to a moderately funny comment. In real life, I probably would have spaced out during the comment and chuckled when I sensed the person making the comment was amused with himself and was anticipating a chuckle.

Now on to more serious matters. I believe that I might have meningitis. Here is a list of my symptoms:

• a rise in temperature, accompanied by nausea, vomiting and headache;
• fever with the appearance of a rash on the skin 
• emergence retardation, disorders of consciousness (the vagueness of perception, lack of concentration, people do not respond to requests, «as if they don’t hear»), convulsions;
• high temperature in combination with back pain and neck muscle tension, especially if the pain significantly increasing the motion of the head;

Doesn't it sound like I'm dying? Okay, not really. I completely just cut and pasted that from http://meningitissymptoms.net/. To be honest, I think the only thing menacing me is a very sore neck and a headache. Oh, and I am totally amused by the 'emergent retardation' symptom. Glad you read to the end! Thanks for caring. :D

Starbuck's cupcakes will NOT help you take over the world.

Walking into a Starbucks is like walking into a food magazine. Imagine yourself centered on the food case-it is filled with cupcakes, scones, pastries, salads, and oatmeals delight. The cupcakes in front of you look as good...no better..than the cupcakes you see in magazines. Better because there they are in front of you in all of their cupcake glory....frosting swirled so perfectly your mouth starts to drool.

This is what the cupcake says to me, "Buy me. Indulge yourself in one of the most decadent, moist, flavorful cupcakes in the whole entire world. What's twelve dollars anyway? I am worth it. You need me now. If you buy me, I will compliment that caramel machiatto and you will be happy and productive for the rest of the day and eventually you will TAKE OVER THE WORLD."

Starbuck the Cupcake

I give in to this cupcake as the cupcake's words are powerful. I even have the willpower to wait for the really slow Starbucks girl to mix my caramel macchiato. No worries, now it's just me and the cupcake, then the WORLD; because with this cupcake, today I will accomplish everything. *evily taps fingers together*

My first bite fills my mouth with

*hack, hack*...what the?! No, this is a mistake! Pfffpttthhh.... NEED ...WATER...

All of a sudden my mouth is attacked by a frosted sandbox. I feel my skin start to shrivel as I chug my coffee and now my mouth tastes like sand and burning and caramel. 

Wanting to salvage my faith in cupcakes and all things good, I decide that it must be a very old cupcake. The frosting will still be good.. I taste the frosting and am horribly disappointed because I am pretty sure they put Crisco into a frosting pouch, frosted the cupcake, and added sugar to the top.

This must be a mistake; the cashier surely gave me the display cupcake.

It is embarrasing to admit this, but I have been fooled by Starbuck the Cupcake time and time again, rationalizing differently each time.

It will be better this time...it's a different day;

I just saw them put them in the case;

I'm in a different city;

These are holiday cupcakes, therefore they must be fresh, etc.

You see, this visually perfect cupcake has superpowers. It causes you to make poor decisions so it can take over the world.

Next time I will not be fooled.. not me. Not again.

*All Starbuck's food seems to be made with desert (not dessert) sand and packed into a beautiful, seemingly decadent, package. The cupcake was just an example. You have been warned.

Is it child abuse if I send my kids to live in a cave?

Today, I searched Bisbee, Arizona- a unique, nearby town- for houses. Bisbee is built into a mountain. It is basically... I don't know, amazingly beautiful. Many of the houses do not have garages or driveways or carports because you have to climb up stairs and hills to access the house. Can you imagine what that would do for my thighs and butt? I'd be like J-Lo over here, or Kim Kardashian...or any other celebrity with a big booty that you may have googled and happened upon my page. Don't be too disappointed, you're a perv for googling them anyway. I kid, kid. But seriously, stay on my site. Make me happy. I want to look like those women that you want to look at.....

I drove by a house that caught my eye because 1) it had a 'for sale' sign on it. 2) It was YELLOW. That might only make sense to you mom, so let me explain. I love the crap out of yellow. A yellow house is like a dream for me. As a kid, I drew yellow houses. Really, yellow is about the best color you could paint a house if it weren't going to be some super boring color like tan or white or brick. I WANT this yellow house. I bounce out of the car to grab a flyer. It's a house built in 1900, but it's gorgeous. Beautiful flooring, remodeled kitchen, looks good...WHAT IS THIS I SEE?! A CAVE?!

A cave, folks. A cave.

Yes, I did say...a cave. Like, a real cave. This house was built into the mountain RIGHT NEXT TO A FRIGGIN' CAVE.

My heart sinks when I notice the square footage...1010 square feet...maybe it has 4 bedrooms all squeezed into that. No, of course not. That would be silly. It doesn't even have 2. It has one...and a half...bedrooms. *sigh.

My brain starts turning....I could build three more bedrooms into it...no...no probably not. Besides size constraints, they would look like a 5 year old did it as I am not too .... constructionally inclined....

I could....have....the kids...LIVE IN THE CAVE!!!! PURE GENIUS! Of course!!! They would LOVE it!!! After all, I have read stories of boy scouts surviving for WEEKS in caves living off of spiders. Between my cooking and the spiders, why, they would never be malnourished!!! Think of the fun! Think of MY quiet!!! Then reality sinks in again. I guess I have to find some other totally awesome house with a cave.

Before we left Bisbee, we had dinner and walked through the town a little. I kid you not, I saw the CRAZIEST people there. It was like visiting peopleofwalmart.com but not in Walmart, but in a town. I saw TWO crazy eyed people in a row. They were scary. Then I wondered if they, too, decided to live in a cave.

Also, since I almost died today on my house hunting expedition, I decided that maybe it's all for the best. Driving UP the 70% incline hill with German-sized roads seemed like a bad idea...and it WAS, indeed, a bad idea. Driving back DOWN the hill most definitely almost killed me-not from Anthony's reckless driving, no, but from my near-heart attack. I saw Jesus and the light today. It was beautiful, and Heaven looked like Bisbee, Arizona.

Don't try this at home

I have never tried illegal drugs, nor have I been around any 'drug pushers.' I wouldn't know drugs if they were right in front of me, as evidenced by two occasions in my past....

She must REALLY like to cook!!!

Once I was hanging around with a few friends of mine and we stopped the house of  a friend's girlfriend. It was kind of an in-and-out ordeal, but I did spot a large ziplock baggie full of green spices. I thought nothing of it. As we were driving away from this girl's house, this is about how the conversation went:

Them-"DID YOU SEE HER BAG OF REEFER?!!"

"YEAH, IT WAS CRAZY MAN"

Me- "What's reefer? Where was it?"

Them- "Oh stop the act. You know what we mean. Mar-i-juaaaana..."

Me- "WE WERE AROUND DRUGS?!"

I was totally freaked out. The thought of the possibility of being caught in that house and being arrested for a bag of what looked like herbs... I was freaking out. And if I couldn't convince my buddies that I was that ignorant...well...I was going to spend some time in the slammer...

Police officers know their stuff.

Once I was cleaning out my then-husband's trunk and found a bag of white powder. My immediate thought was, "Oh MY....he is doing cocaine!!!!" I remembered how I somehow knew that an odor I was smelling was marijuana instinctively...my mind then went to the cop shows where the police find a powdery substance and taste it with a fingertip and somehow know it's cocaine. We've all seen that, right?

So I have this bag and think to myself, well I knew marijuana and cocaine is probably just as distinct... My finger goes into the bag and I take a taste.

IMMEDIATE BURNING. EYES WATERING. TONGUE ON FIRE. ITCHINESS EVERYWHERE.

I wipe away the tears from my eyes to run upstairs and call husband. MORE BURNING. EYES ON FIRE. I explain to him what has happened. I could tell that he wanted to laugh really hard. I didn't understand why. He instructed me to immediately dress down naked, don't touch my clothes, shower, and then call him back.

Burning is going away. Less itchy. Eyes getting less teary. Call husband. This is what I hear:

"Candice?" *snickering in background, loud talking.

"Yes, it's me. WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO ME?"

*Laughing from the background. Laughing from husband.

"You just ate CS, Candice."

"I don't even KNOW what that is. What is CS? What just happened? You aren't doing cocaine?!"

*rolling laughter in background.

"No, Candice. CS is the chemical they use in the gas chamber for Army training. You probably just injested like the amount it takes to gas an entire room....*trying to control laughing....are you ....snicker....okay now?"

*feeling incredibly dumb. "yes, I'm okay."

My ex was a chemical soldier and was in charge of the gas chamber training for the unit. He didn't anticipate crazy suspicious wife...

So, the moral of my story is....don't go watching Columbo thinking you can go save the world with a paper clip. It doesn't work like it does on television.

I want ice cream

This desire...no ... NEED for ice cream is stifling my creativity. 

Talk French to me.

So I work in sea of cubicles. The guy next to me has got to be the most entertaining cube-neighbor I have ever had the privilege of sitting near. He has lots of visitors who all seem to look pretty important. It makes me feel less important because my cube visitors are always peppy and smiley and have something completely non-work related to say. His visitors dress in suits and ties (we work in a business casual dress code environment) and have serious faces and draw diagrams and other important looking stuff on the smart board that is on the wall in between our cubicles. I don't listen to what they say-they usually lose me at the first acronym. "The CTSB blah blah blah blah blah blah blah."

Today, however, I took note of cube neighbor because his phone conversation took an odd turn. The first and last 5 minutes of his conversation were purely in English. In the middle of the conversation, however, he started speaking in French poorly. And then he started spelling something. He did that thing where people try to sound authentic and use their horrible foreign language accents while speaking in the foreign language but it's like watching a movie where the person couldn't quite nail that accent down. Okay, but seriously. I am trying to imagine who was on the other line.

My first thought was probably predictable: Tall, thin man with curly drawn on mustache, striped shirt, red neck scarf, beret. He needs to talk to Pepe because Pepe is his French teacher and he decided he needed an emergency French lesson in the middle of his work day. Touche, cube neighbor, you DID need that lesson as your French was -yes- that terrible. Good luck and I hope you make it to Paris and find a lovely young lady like Audrey Hepburn who happens to also speak English but you can still impress her with your soon-to-be good French.

Or maybe cube neighbor is married. Just checked. There IS a ring. So, maybe he was speaking to his wife and she was all, "Talk FRENCH to me." And he was trying frantically to remember every bit of French he learned in High School (which looks like it's been a few years for him) and he just started spewing out letters because he remembered the cute alphabet song his French teacher taught him. Wife, satisfied with his attempt, tells him she's looking forward to his homecoming and will be armed with a striped shirt, beret, red scarf, and a marker upon his arrival.

He could be selling secrets to the French! Hopefully he doesn't spill the beans on how striped shirts, berets, red scarves, and drawn on mustaches are no longer in style. Or perhaps never were in style. Look at him over there...TYPING...sounds like he's typing in FRENCH. *typing in French sounds like surrender. How dare he?! No, couldn't be this. He is way too happy to sell secrets. Now he's on the phone again and laughing. People who sell secrets don't laugh in that tone.

Based on his level of apparent happiness, I vote for Wife scenario.