I Am Non-Caffeinated Woman, Hear Me Snore

A few weeks ago, my hubby asked me while giving me a bear hug,

"What's your favorite country?"

"What?" I had no idea where this was going.

"What's your favorite country?"

Fearing he was up to some plotting that could involve us moving far, far away, I replied, "Um, not to sound overly patriotic, this one."

Yes, I am an unpatriotic American who is ashamed to live in a country where its people vote in a monkey as its leader with Satan as his henchman...twice.

Let's just say we don't talk politics with my somewhat conservative family because it nearly ruined Christmas in 2004.

My husband asked me again. "What's your favorite country?"

"Uh, England, Japan, and France."

"You need to pick one."

"Why?"

"Just pick one."

"Fine!" Jumping to conclusions and assuming that he's plotting a vacation, and jumping to the conclusion it may be for our fifth wedding anniversary in May, I said,

"France. Paris, mostly."

"Would you like to go to France for our anniversary?"

Bingo. I may not be able to surprise the man with anything (he has an uncanny way of sniffing it out. Plus, since he works at the bank, it's like I've got the all-seeing eye of Mordor looking over our daily transactions), but I can at least jump to correct conclusions about where he's going in a vague conversation.

"Absolutely!!" Good thing I already had a Paris travel book from when we thought we'd be able to afford to go after my college gradutation (as you may have deducted from the conversation earlier, we obviously couldn't afford to go).

He then tried to buy us Rosetta Stone to refresh on our French. While he took French all four years in high school, I took two years in high school, and can only remember phrases like "omelette du fromage" (omlet with cheese--big surprise, huh?), and suddenly remembered more French in college during my Spanish quiz (it did not help). I ended up getting a BS (ha!) instead of a BA (again, ha!) due to wacky Oregon graduation requirements. So I ended up with a BS in Communications and Theatre. Stop laughing. It is so me.

He told me that it was way beyond our foreign language refresher budget (which I already knew), but the thought that he tried to buy it for us was sweet.

A week later we began to price out the trip. Did I ever mention that international flights are expensive as hell?

As I was on Orbitz.com fearing the worst, I asked my husband: "Can we realistically afford this?" Because we are dreamers. We think it'll work, price it out, have good intentions, but intentions only go so far.

"Yes, but we'll have to cut way back to afford it."

Lame.

Of course, now that I told people that we're planning to go, Prideful Holly now has to find a way to make it happen.

I have decided to start out small.

Starting with Starbucks.

Getting coffee in the morning started out as a treat--like a once a week/twice a week if your ass was dragging kind of thing. Then Holly got promoted, had to start working longer hours, but the higher pay justified going there three times a week.

It eventually evolved into a daily monster; where if I didn't get my caffeinated goodness by 10am, I would have a splitting migraine painful enough to answer the phone as Holly Hulk and You'd Better Make it Quick Because the Lights Are Burning My Brain.

Of course, if I got coffee that day, so did my husband. We had to make it fair.

Add it up- coffee at about $3 a day, per person (two people total), for each workday (excluding vacations and holidays), equals...

Wow.

That's almost as bad as a pack-a-day smoking habit.

Thank God we don't do both, otherwise we would still be in good 'ol Gangbanger Land (aka Rockwood), hacking it up with the rest of the poor people who can't afford to buy a house.

So I woke up Monday morning with a Mission: Lay off the Starbucks. No matter how tired I feel. No matter if we actually do have some breathing room in our budget. No matter if I brough my lunch, and can totally justify it.

Plus, it's not like we have an espresso machine at home that is currently gathering that icky kitchen dust--oh, wait! We totally do! Thanks to my sister-in-law who used to work for Starbucks and generously provided us with the magical machine as a housewarming present.

Now I have no excuse.

No Starbucks Log

Day 1: I took the non-Starbucks route to work today (this means I don't drive past one). I wanted to get there before 8am, but it didn't happen (which isn't the best decision on a Monday). I did pretty good along the lines of no headaches, no eye-drooping drowsiness, and my perkiness level (that's personality, you perverts) was normally cheerful.

I think I can actually do this. And with the money I'm not spending on coffee each day, I can save that amount, and we'll actually be able to afford to go to Paris in May and I won't be a big, fat, liar who says she's going somewhere and then doesn't.

If I can kick morning caffeine, I can kick my habit of not exercising! I will be able to become Nintendo's poster woman (poster child just sounds wrong) for Wii Fit (see "Having a Fit for Wii Fit"), and Lilly Pullitzer will send me her fabulous clothes to cover my tiny butt (okay, I am currently a size six, but I used to be a zero. ZERO!).

And once I kick the caffeine habit, I will be able to conjure my energy naturally instead of using a puppy upper (caffeine) as a crutch. I can accomplish anything!!

Day Two: "Yes, I'd like a grande nonfat black and white mocha with one pump of each, with no whip..."

What?

So I have an uber-complicated coffee order. Like you'd expect any less from me.

Lil' Kim, Toe Tags, and Microsoft Word

"Eugh," my coworker recoiled as I showed off my best attempt at converting Word into a PhotoShop substitute.

"Heh heh- that's exactly the reaction I was looking for," as I sent off my creation to my friends.

I had been wracking my brain for the longest time for a clever Halloween party invite.

Hubby has gotten to the point where he forbids me from sending out tangible, old-fashioned, snail-mail invites because of the stamp investment, the time investment to make them (if they're going to be sent out in the mail, you bet your ass they'll be hand-made, biotch!), and not to mention the fact that wherever I decide to make them ends up holding that area of the house hostage for however long it takes me to make them...and sometimes holds it for a few weeks afterward, too.

I searched and searched Microsoft's Clip Art online, to no avail. All the items were cutesy or just plain ugly.

I forgot about it until last weekend.

We met up with some friends who had gone to a mutual friends' wedding (hubby was really sick with the flu, so we refrained from contaminating all our friends, and especially the ones getting married!), and for some reason, the theme of the weekend was a Lil' Kim song.

Don't ask. For some reason when we college buddies get together, shenanigans occur. Tomfoolery happens. Hilarity ensues. And many times, a theme emerges.

Last weekend's theme was Lil' Kim's song, "This is A Warning." It's actually a cover of R.Kelly's "A Woman's Threat," but the lyrics are basically the same.

Don't ask. Let's just say Lil' Kim's "Notorious K.I.M." is one of my favorite Rap/Hip Hop albums.

But my friends came up with their own lyrics. And their version totally wins out of the three.

Lil' Kim: "Someone's gonna find your ass dead...someone's gonna poison your food..." (which is still pretty hilarious)

My friends: "Someone's gonna shit in your bed...someone's gonna tag all your toes..."

Maybe it really is funny. Maybe it was just one of those "you had to have been there moments." And I hate those moments if I was the one who wasn't there.

Either way, it gave me the idea for the invite above. And after a simple Google Image search (which may very well be one of the best inventions ever), some tweaking in Word (which was infuriating and made me feel like a creative warrior who works with what she's got), I got it.

It's not perfect. And yes, it could definitely have used some PhotoShop. But it works.

So hopefully, this Halloween, no one will find your ass dead, poison your food, shit in your bed, or tag on your toes.

Happy Halloweener.

Steve "Turtleneck" Jobs Has Won.

I finally broke down and bought it.

The 3G.

And it sucks.

Still basking in the glory that is my new promotion and raise, my husband "discovered" that we're up for phone upgrades (see "iPhone Suicide"). I decided he totally deserved a new phone--whatever he wanted, but I didn't really need a new phone. My iPhone works just fine.

Except that it's sometimes a little slow.

And that will occasionally lose signal.

And the fact that I've dropped it a gazillion times on hard surfaces. Like concrete.

We went to the AT&T store (formerly Cingular that was formerly AT&T), and my husband went to drool over all the smartphones. He eventually decided on a Samsung Blackjack II, and even got the Bluetooth earpiece. I made fun of him all day by quoting lines from the "Bret Gives Up the Dream" episode of Flight of the Conchords where Bret is talking on his Bluetooth, saying things like, "I've got a 5:00, then a 6:00...alright...I'll pencil you in," even though he doesn't even have a phone to use it with.

I wasn't making fun of him to be mean...I was just jealous.

The store had Bluetooth devices, and I want/need one. Since moving into our new house, my commute time has been slashed in half...but that doesn't mean I don't still try to squeeze in some talk time with family members in the morning on the way in to work.

A Bluetooth device would make it somewhat safer...although studies have shown that talking on a cell phone, even hands free, is not the safest thing to do. Plus Oregon is going to ban handheld phones in the car soon, and I wanted an excuse to "get used to it" early.

Only I tried the store's in-ear Bluetooth device, and it didn't even fit in my ear. Not even close.

You see, I have tiny elf-like ears.

I didn't realize how small they were until sophomore year of high school, when some jerk boy pointed at me and said, "Look at your cute little ears! They're so small!!" I was self-conscious about my ears sticking out from my head (a classic Mueller trait), but now I was self-conscious about looking like a petite, blonde Shrek.

Maybe my ears are small for preventative reasons (like preventing me from pulling a Ralph Wiggum and inserting a crayon to tickle my eardrum...but I have never felt so inclined), but I can't fit normal ear things into my teeny ears.

Back in 2005, my husband bought me my first iPod (it was a pink Mini). I jumped with excitement as I raced to open it. I loaded it up, and then on a car ride to his parents' house, I prepared to listen to all my nifty songs packaged in a cute little pink rectangle. I went to put the earbuds in my ears, and...nothing. They wouldn't even fit inside my ears. I couldn't even get part of them in my ears.

I was devastated. I had this new toy and couldn't even use it!!

I had to break down and buy the $40 Apple In-Ear Headphones. I must say I love them. I love the sound quality, and they fit in my ears. Once I have them in, they work better than any noise-canceling headphone on the market. I can't hear ANY outside noise once they're in.

But Apple has yet to make an In-Ear Bluetooth device because their neato black stick-of gum-looking Bluetooth device is just like their earbuds: too big for my small ears.

So my husband got his nifty smartphone and his Bluetooth device, and now he was pushing me to get the 3G.

It was enticing. But I wanted to spend that money on other prospects.

Like clothing.

I'll write a blog on that later.

Eventually he wore me down and I ventured into the very packed Apple store (the very one where I used to work), and asked if they had 3Gs in stock. They did.

I then inquired about the white iPhone. The "Jesus Phone."

They call it the Jesus Phone because at first it was really hard to find when the 3G first debuted. It only comes in 16G (Apple is notorious for this--if you want the different color, pay more!), and it is gorgeous. Plus it matches my MacBook. Like it matters...

My husband was only prepared to pay for the 8G iPhone. I wanted the white Jesus Phone. This is one of the rare instances where I pulled out 'Ol Puppy Dog Eyes.

I realized early on in our relationship that weapons such as 'Ol Puppy Dog Eyes, Sneaky Guilt Trip, and Five-Year-Old Tantrum Throwing should be used sparingly for the best results and the least amount of backlash later.

I had already used Five-Year-Old Tantrum in Target back in March to get my coveted giraffe-print Steve Madden knockoffs. I had been eyeing the giraffe print platform peep-toes for months when I first saw them...but the Maddens were $110--impossible to even hide since we were in homebuying saving mode. And then I saw a knockoff version at Target...and they fit. And they were comfortable. These shoes were in a 99th percentile of being in my regular shoe-wearing repertoire. Anything less usually means a) they're not comfortable, or they are comfortable for up to four to eight hours, only for me to limp home and race for the band-aids, b) they're not as cute. I had to have these $23 shoes. So I pulled out the Tantrum. In the middle of Target. And I got them.

I can't remember the last time I used Sneaky Guilt Trip. SGT has to be used the most sparingly. Both our families are old Guilt Trip Masters, and my husband and I have become really good at guilt trips...the only thing is that we can't use guilt trips on one another--they won't work. In order for them to work, we have to use Jedi-like mind tricks...which is the Sneaky Guilt Trip. But it can't be used very often or it won't work as effectively.

So 'Ol Puppy Dog Eyes was it. And it worked. I got the Jesus Phone.

It is gorgeous.

It matches my MacBook.

It drops calls.

It loses signal.

It...sucks.

Thank goodness I bought it only a week before they released the update to fix those issues. I would have been homicidal if I had it since its launch.

So there you go, Mr. Black Turtleneck "I'm Not Dead" Jobs. You win.

You win this time.