Spray Tanning

I will admit. I am somewhat addicted to spray tanning. Well, I am totally addicted and it is not thanks to the one-year contract I let them sucker me into. Something about a woman wearing a wedding ring and shaking her head no, while muttering "I am scared of commitment." doesn't stop them. Alas, I have about 10 more months to see if our relationship was as valuable as I first thought.

You see, I can always say no to gimmicky offers. Chingy, on the other hand, will buy anything. Ring the doorbell and profess that the solution you are peddling will get out blood, guts and chocolate and you have a sure sell. That guy is the worst and I am the anti-buy. Well, until it came time to start going to this unnamed tanning joint. They are so persistent and I am addicted to their service that I finally caved. But did that stop them... NOPE. They want two years out of me. Oh the special offers. Piss off.

Yesterday I was feeling especially pasty, so I dropped in to get a little body work. Well, it was about the worse experience I have had in my months of doing this. It started out with there being no mat. You don't think this is a huge deal until you realize that the bottoms of your feet will be slick as snot when you get out and the cheapskates at the Joint decided stained concrete was the way to go. Note to anyone out there........ It is icecapades slick, don't go for it. Shell out some money and enjoy your unbruised melon.

So, I put on the crap to keep you nails and special parts from Snooki-ing. If you don't know Snookie, she is what Willy Wonka had in mind for an umpaloompa. So, I put it on only to remember that I didn't put on my coating of stay tan longer jiz like crap. Humf! Another product I now own from the Joint. Well, let me tell you that I will carry that stupid bottle around even when empty to keep them off my back!!!! I scrub my hands off and coat myself up. Insert my skepticism here: it doesn't make you any more tan, any longer than, oh say BABY LOTION!!!!!!


I get in, take a deep breathe so I don't inhale the substance coming out of the nozzles. Well, the voice comes on, I take a deep breathe then panic. I might need another, so I take it, and another. I do this until I am sure I will pass out then the spray comes out. I sputter and take a nice breath of the fumes while turning to position two. This happens during the whole session, my tongue throbs by the end and I am light headed. I am such a genius, huh?

The next process is drying. I love that it helps you dry off so you stay evenly coated. However, on this occasion I let my mind wonder and instead of turning to the front when prompted to, I let it do half my back for a third time. That jolts me out of my deep thinking by KC moment and I rush around to get only half my front. So, front side= 1.5 drying sessions. No bueno, peeps, no bueno. I am now light headed, half dry and about to sail across the room naked. Wonderful.

SO, I manage to find a towel to use as a fan, fan dry my naked-ness and get somewhat tan. Looking at my hands today, it seems I might have given a hand job to one of the Ompalompa's!!! My little mess up in steps might have given me one orange hand. Go Pokes!

Anxiety

That title word is something quite foreign to me. I am the girl with the BP of a corpse, who finds it entertaining to go to the doctor and watch a nurse struggle with finding it. I often have to stifle giggles and then inform them that I am normally at 72/60 or in that range. They often adjust their maneuvers and figure me out.

But, in the past few days I have felt out of wack. I just have some stuff on my mind and it has actually bothered me. Growing older, perhaps. Feeling guilty about my proximity to my family I believe. Or, becoming what people expect of me and living up to that. Yeppers. Damn it sucks getting older.

The tightness in my chest is wearing me out. Now, before you say "head to the doctor" I am totally in control of it. Lately it happens when I let my mind wonder to my family. What am I doing so far away from them? How in the hell did I pick a life 12 hours from anyone that holds a place so deep in my heart, that created my heart?????

Even shopping does it to me. I never know when I might not have money. I should save it. Pinch my pennies. I stopped drinking pop for that exact reason. I make coffee and tea at the house and tote it to the office. But then again, I buy a cute scarf here and a new wallet there............Insert increased pulse here. BUT, my laptop is slow and I want more layout software, so I should buy a new one... SHUDDERING with fear. I am a head case.

Another thing that makes me twitch and shake is how my jeans fit. Or, to be more specific how they USED to fit. I have to find someone to chase me around and yell at me from the back of a golf cart. This is out of control lazy pants! Then, that makes me think of the need to buy bigger clothes, the fear of shopping, the buyers remorse and we are back where we started.

Does anyone have any suggestions for helping me out? What makes your pulse race and makes you sweat a little? And I am not asking for anything odd or dirty:)

To close on a somewhat funny note. I wore trouser pants yesterday and if you know jeans you know they have wide legs, big open bottoms. Well, Circle K declared war on the moles destroying our pseudo yard and I was enlisted to spray the repellent on them. I did the patch closest to the house, dragging my feet because I didn't want to venture to the back of the acre. I saw a snake there, I got lunged at by a snake there, I don't like it. So, I remembered how to tight roll and off I went. Imagine me in baggy jeans, tight rolled, white basketball socks and shoes I got during a traumatic breakup in college. Ya. That old. I can't wait for Circle K to actually give me the picture!

The Simple Things

The littlest thing brings a smile to my face these days. I don't know if I has always been that way and I didn't care enough to notice or if, in my infinite wisdom and age, I am slowly but surely getting senile and just laughing for no reason.

Case in point. On my country commute this a.m., I saw a pasture sprinkled with Herefords. I rubbernecked it a bit to get the longest lasting glance to pacify me all day. If I were to get hit by on coming traffic, I would have had a shit eating grin on my face since I saw my first love.

Our ceiling fan even brings me to hysterics. I noticed a while back that when a lamp is on and the ceiling light is off the cover makes the shape of a penis. Call me childish, but I get a belly laugh out of it even on the grouchiest days! Mind you, this picture is from my iPhone, but take a look for yourself:) Closest thing to porn I have ever done on the Internet and now I am looking over my shoulder, by the way!

After a weekend out somewhat West, I realized I hold on to memories in the form of pictures way more than some. Call me sentimental, scared to grow up, or simply homesick, but it does bring me smiles. Now, at the office with dual computer screens I can get hours of happiness from my background. Here are a couple of them I have used so far. PS- If I stole them from you, don't worry...... I won't do anything to gain money from them:)

The whole family together to celebrate Colty winning Sr. Showman at the Junior National on his second try, last year of showing. Pretty cool to have the grandparents there. This one is on my desk at the office, not to mention been on my computer screen, and on our entertainment center.

Oh my lands. This wedding was too much fun and brought in too much income to the Manhattan, Kan. emergency room. I can't wait to be able to see more pictures and get some for my house. So, what do you make of my love of photos? I guess some just aren't as sentimental as I am. And, the only reason I like these two is I didn't totally ruin them with my Mr. Ed face:(

Red Rag Top. That song never ceases to bring a huge grin to my face. Just heard it playing and I traveled back to another time, another place. Picture it, Stillwater 2002, OSU Beef Barn. Three souls simply working for minimum wage to survive...... or to scrap together enough case to go to Penny beer once released. Three college students who snuck beer to work, dorked around and acted like they were breaking bulls for Denver. Not sure why, but those hours spent hiding our drinking, leading semi broke yearling bulls and napping in feed bunks was such a simpler life, no worries and no plans to get stuck in one spot for too long. My how times have changed.

Tell me friends, what makes you smile? I hope I can make you smile. I woke up on the right side of the bed today, so I am a barrel of monkeys:)

Peace out Cub scouts!!!

Hair Twirling Will Be the Death of Me

Many New Years resolution lists have included "stop twirling my hair." I think it made it on my feeble list at 15. I have hated the habit for that many years- 15. It drives me nuts to see others do it even. However, I can't stop. I simply cannot.

My left wrist actually hurts me when I do it. I am developing carpel tunnel, I swear to you. Even that doesn't stop me. The cause of this actual post is a near death experience I had last night. Well, it would rank up there with some of my near death driving experiences, but as some of you know I suck at driving. Well, as I was coming home from a "gala" event last night, I was driving along a bumpy Oklahoma road, head leaning against the drivers side window, left hand just going to town on my soft hair. Twirl, twirl little digits! Next thing I know, my head itches, my knee is steering and a car is coming at me. Instead of taking my hand from my hair, I continue to clasp the supple piece of hair and bend my head more to the left in order to scratch my itch. The action of turning my head more to the left made my knee lean that way and the other car didn't like that one bit. (Don't ask why I wasn't using my right hand to steer b/c I believe it was in my hair too.

I need an intervention.

I have read all sorts of things on the Internet about hair twirling. It is a flirting technique, a sign of nervousness or incompetence, or a cry for help for a case of depression, anxiety and OCD. Does any of this sound like KC? Let me start at the top of the list.

Flirting technique? Come on science. If this chick wants to flirt, she will go straight for the method of buying and delivering a drink to the hot dude. Mark that off your list. Some may say I am incompetent, but not a nervous person- scratch that one. I am spastic, not depressed or anxious. And, I am as far from OCD as a human can get. So, science is failing me.

My theory- my hair is too soft. And I don't mean that in a bragging way. I mean that in a my hair is too straight and just there. End of story. I like how soft it feels. That makes me feel like a child and I want to stop. Any suggestions America?

Thankful KC.

I am about to toss my computer out the window, due to my InDesign program defaulting to stroke on all boxes, text won't do what I want, that sort of thing. So, in an attempt to ward off gray hairs, wrinkles and possibly a high equipment replacement fee I am going to list some random, not too deep, things I am thankful for. No explanations. Try it! I dare you.



1- Turn signals

2- Straws

3- Scented candles

4- Free on-line radio selections

5- Ringtones

6- Cotton candy clouds

7- My mom's laugh

8- Coupons

9- Hot pink Post It notes

10- AC

11- The bill that came with the AC to keep my house cool

12- Candid pictures

13- Folding tables

14- Red Dirt

15- House plants

16- The color Turquoise

17- Finding old CD's with pictures from Stillwater on them

18- Not having to think about Chingy all the time b/c he is like my heartbeat: constant and works on its own.

19- Wholesale bead stores

20- Sam's Club

21- Carpet

22- Rubber cell phone cover

23- Neon signs

24- Unlimited ATT to ATT minutes

25- Work




I know most of this is dumb, superficial stuff but I don't care. They make me feel more safe and secure. They made you think about random stuff.


This list brought to you by the letter K.

My Friday

There are just some days that are off and I think I am having one of those.

I almost hit an old, decrepit dog on my way down Waterloo. At first I was upset that I would have killed a beloved family member of some strangers. Then my mind wondered to the damage the impact would have inflicted on Larz and I almost wept.

Continuing down the road, I saw a GINORMOUS tarantula crossing the road. He was so freakin' big he wore a top hat, had a cane and was smoking a cigarette. As I got closer, I kid you not, he looked up and said "HELLO" in this smokers voice. THAT BIG!



However in the third month I have worked in Yukon, at this desk, I have come to realize that driving over 55 MPH makes me feel like I am flying! I bet my mother will read this and laugh because I am a horrible driver who goes way too fast.... while driving with my knee and texting. Sorry everyone. Honk, honk: watch out.


I ate steak, a glorious, wonderful supplied by the Doug Paul family steak for breakfast! I cannot imagine not eating steak for any meal, on any day. We really are lucky to be so open minded and free in our country.



Circle K informed me of a way to put a stop to the Mosque being built on Ground Zero. He said, while eating a bowl of Kixs cereal nonetheless, that all we need to do is bury a pig or cow there and they won't build it per their religious beliefs. Who would have thought that a bowl of kiddie cereal would jump start such deep thoughts so early in the morning. Way to go big Guy!

I am trying to call bankers who are all out for the weekend and all I can think of is how much fun it would be to have curly hair, inherit $35 million, patent a heated port-o-potty toilet seat cover, master the art of writing in some oriental dialect or simply go across the street to the bar. Random, yes. Keffer-esk, but of course.

Peace out cub scouts!