Belinda has requested some help. I am here to the rescue.

The only thing I won’t do is dispute my Vixen Status. Of that, I am proud and hope to have t-shirts made up and everything.

The painting job that she needs finished is really wearing on her. She’s tearing her hair out and because it is so full and luscious I fear that she will have a bald spot soon. (It’s full and luscious, right? I can only make a guess.) I’m not certain what I would like in return. Yes, we are planning to vacation together with the families, but that won’t happen until several months from now. How about you help answer some burning questions I’ve had in the last few days?

1. Why did my hotel give me a handicapped room? I like the shelf that’s low and near the toilet, but I’m quite the amazon-woman and have to lean down to brush my teeth in the very low sink and that’s annoying. Also, it’s a got a King-sized bed that’s low to the floor Japanese-style. Do you think there is an inappropriate joke in there somewhere?

2. When did TBS start showing all the risque stuff in their re-showing of movies like Unfaithful? And why does Diane Lane still look so amazing? That’s just not fair.

3. Do real life people have sit down dinners with a glass of wine? What if I just like chocolate milk with my spaghetti, huh? (I don’t think I’ll ever be accused of being a grown up.)

4. Toll booth operators. Are they even necessary any longer?

5. Is Bryce Dallas Howard going to get her due? When will that happen?

6. Do laptops with fingerprint scanners scare you? (Would you be really naughty and use your middle finger so that your computer identified you? Ooohhhh, I think you WOULD.)

7. Will you be my practice Arkansian? Arkansasian? Arkian? (What the hell is that word?) (For the record, I’m an Illinoisian and that’s pronounced “ill-uh-noy-in” but I’ll let you hear my midwestern accents the next time I call to chat with Belinda) person from Arkansas, especially one who owns a potato gun?

8. When was the last time you had a satistying nougaty candy bar?

9. Cardinals or Cubs? Which should I profess undying loyalty to (and this is difficult as I living in Ill-uh-noy but very close to the Miz-er-ree border)? The choices! THE CHOICES! The jury’s still out on that one for me, so I will go with whatever you say.

10. Does this blog make my butt look fat?

If that painting doesn’t happen, I’ll be forced to drive down there and do it myself and I’m not a fan of painting (sore arms. they suck.) unless it’s something artistic. So, can I get some photographic evidence of its completion?

The Internet is waiting. No pressure.

Not too long ago I went to a baby shower for my girlfriend Tammy and another friend of ours, Krista, who lives near St. Louis, came to visit as well. She had on the most adorable sandals which she got at J. Jill. Since she lives in a different town completely, I asked if she would mind if I got some like them. Honestly? They are not only cute, they can be construed as hott. With two T’s.

Normally, I don’t like stealing anyone else’s style and I have been known to get upset when people do it to me. I’m still quite pissed that I bought this beautiful coat (which, at the time, I had to pay for in half-cash and half-credit card so Kennimus wouldn’t see the price) I got and then noticed this woman wearing the same one. My gaping mouth gave way for Ken to ask what was wrong and I sputtered, “LOOK. She… she… she has my coat. It was so different. I…. I…. really liked being different.”

He tried to assure me that it was ok but I found myself walking right up to her (since we saw each other at several places and were acquainted enough in that way) and saying, “You know, I have that same coat. Haven’t you seen me wear it?” My hope was that she could hear the accusatory tone with which I asked this question and hang her head in shame. She smiled this big (fake) smile and said, “I know! I loved it so much I went and got one!”

I was NOT. AMUSED.

We ran into her last year at a wedding reception and I hid behind Ken in the receiving line when I spotted her and her husband walk in.

What are you DOING?

Oh, it’s that bitch who steals my look. Don’t let her see me! These are my favorite gauchos and boots and the last thing I need is some heifer walking around with MY CUTE GAUCHOS AND BOOTS.

Needless to say, I’m a fan of individual style. In the sandal instance, however, I know that no one else here has them and I asked Krista if she would mind if I got them, too. When she comes to town to visit, her sandals may trump mine. In the event that we both show up wearing them, I must return to my residence and change my footwear (that’s all contract language she made me sign for this arrangement). In fact, the ones I ordered were darker and slightly different enough to make me feel ok about this idea.

Look. They are cute, no?

There’s even a bonus shot of her pumpkin who delighted us all at the baby shower.

Happily, I went about ordering the shoes online at J.Jill and converted the European sizes to American sizes (might I add that size 11 has always sounded bad to me until I ordered a 42?) and patiently waited for them to arrive. When they did, I tore into the box and I knew immediately when I saw them that they were THE WRONG SIZE.

Checking the box and the sole of the sandal confirmed that yes, these were size 11. If I lived in Munchkinland.

Since I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type gal, I called up my best friend Becky and asked if she wanted to ride to St. Louis for the day to exchange my shoes. When she got to my house I showed her the sandals and she proclaimed, “Hey. These look like a 9. I wear a 9. I’m trying them on.”

*I can’t get this picture to look right. Instead, click here.

So now, she wears them everytime she goes anywhere with me. She looks adorable in them. She looks cute in them. She looks hott in them.

I really do love my girlfriends, but now I have TWO OF THEM walking around with my sandals and they look great in them.

Heifers.

Who knew that writing about panties (ahem… underwear for Jenny. Sorry.) would generate such hilarious comments? Not me. I was just speaking for myself and then all the confessions came out.

Stand proud, girlfriends. If there is a cause for which I can get behind my sistahs, this is it. Because, girlfriends, lemme tell ya, we need to stand united. There are far too many factions that try to keep us down.

I ain’t goin’ out like that. (In case you were wondering: yes, I did just move my neck and give two snaps up.)

When I ponder all the wonderful women in my life I count myself lucky. The list is long and varied and I love these women. They challenge me and change me, even for all the crap I give Women as a whole when it comes to the irritating things about us. That list is long, too.

I love men, too. Many men in my realm of experience are great friends and I can hang out with The Boys just as easily. Maybe what happens is that I go through phases and seek out the people, male or female, that I need at that time in my life.

For today, I’m talking girlfriends.

Even though we are often forced to deal in classifications as a society, I don’t hold to those premises often. Of the women I know, some are strong, some are artists, some are mothers, some are single, some are married, some are lesbians, some are currently finding out who they are as women and learning just where they draw certain lines.

But all of them are valuable and erudite and witty and creative and incredibly intellectual.

When I’ve had get-togethers at my house I invite them all, even with their varied lifestyles and such. At first, I was afraid they wouldn’t get along and this worried me as a sufferer of Middle Child Syndrome. I tend to placate in many situations and, while I know it is dangerous to try to control everything, I have learned to let go of that.

A little.

They’ll get along just fine and express themselves and play nice even when the only thing they have in common with one another is their relationship with me.

That’s why I’ve come up with this idea. I want some of the women attending the BlogHer conference in San Jose to support one another, panty-on-top-of-clothes and all, prior to meeting. Over the next week you’ll see links here and other places directing readers to learn more intimate details of these women, myself included.

But, do you need to know more than the fact that I call my husband for sex at lunchtime and that I lay my panties on top of my clothes at the gyncologist office?

We’ll see.

Stay tuned.

I’d love to do a reverse FAQ but then it wouldn’t really be a FAQ, but just thoughts that I have a lot of times that I want to ask people. So, sharpen your pencils (number 2 please because they are the ONLY ones that work for the Scan-Tron machine), take a water/coffee/scotch break before beginning, and then have a seat. Keep your eyes on your own paper. There is NOTHING interesting on your shoe so don’t stare at it trying to look for answers. Keep your sleeves rolled down, please. Neck-craning is not allowed and neither is “just cracking your neck”. I don’t buy that crap. I’m a seasoned teacher.
Ready for the backwards FAQ?

Ok.

Lately, depending on the type of entry I write, I’ve noticed that lurkers come out to either tell me I’m funny or that crying is ok in yoga. Ok, not that one. But I just wonder sometimes what makes a person decide to tell on themselves and leave a comment and is it like confession where you start with “Bless Me Mocha, For I Have Lurked”?

I’m taking two classes for the admin masters and one for the reading. The texts are, admittedly, academic in nature and don’t stimulate like a good fiction book. So I’m wondering what are you reading this summer? What would you recommend? Do you have a favorite author? People have asked about the Chicago Bloggers Book Choices and I have not gotten around to it yet, but read what Gary said about his book here. Ariana mentioned that I would like Augusten Burroughs and she was right. I have only read the first free chapter that I downloaded here but I can tell already that I will love him in an entirely inappropriate-but-trying-to-be-platonic manner. Davecago folks, please post your reads, ok? Everyone is dying to know. Dying, I tell you.

After I’m done puking out an entry I always feel the need to use a category which is not a huge stress point in my life, but sometimes I wonder do you really care what the category is?

As soon as I care to take the time to figure it out I will post more pictures here instead of flickr but the last time I did that it moved stuff around and it looked all wonky and I hated it. Do you prefer to see pictures embedded in an entry and then just forget about clicking on flickr or does it matter?

Summer blockbuster movies just aren’t what they used to be and that, quite frankly, pisses me off because I do so love my butter with some popcorn and will admit that I’ve gone to the movie theatre BECAUSE OF THE POPCORN AND HOT TAMALE CANDIES. So, in the spirit of supporting the local video store proprietors since Summer 2006 movies SUCK, I am curious what movies are rentable and that you like to watch and re-watch? For instance, I can’t get enough of Eddie Izzard’s Dress To Kill (which Mason and I say in our uber-hip lingo of “D2K”) right now and would recommend it to anybody. I don’t care if you have issues with transvestites or not. Everyone needs some Eddie. Even little old church ladies who would gasp to see him in person need some Eddie.

When I don’t get a chance to answer everyone in the comments I have SUCH GUILT and worry that people will be disappointed. Look at me. I’m such a people-pleaser sometimes. It does not fit with the hard-ass bitch I purport to be. Is it wrong that I’m getting to the point where I can’t answer everyone? I think that I just need to pick and choose from now on and that’s such a great thing with all the loverly comments you people leave!

There are far too many things that happen to me that make me wonder where the hidden camera hiding. Strange things. Hilarious things. Downright freaky things. My reactions are varied to them, but, for the most part, I start by scanning the room or area I’m in to see if there is a plant with a lens peeking out trying to capture my response.

Last week when I picked up my order of Thai food at my favorite restaurant to take home for dinner the girl behind the counter recognized me from some of her other jobs. She works at Walgreens and, of course, Starbucks. As I sat down waiting for my order she leaned over and whispered, “You like coffee, right?”

This is the point where I sit up straighter, look around, and then I tried looking out the window to see if she noticed my license plates but then I remembered that I drove Ken’s car to pick it up.

“Ummm…. yeah. I like coffee.”

She reached beneath the counter and brought out a bag of Starbucks coffee, unopened, and handed it to me.

“Here. I think I have too much of it now.”

When I walked in the door at home with Thai food and a bag of Starbucks beans Ken looked at me funny and I said, “I know. I’m the only person who can go out for Thai food and come back with free coffee.”

Another strange incident happened yesterday at school where our social worker, the sweetest and most meek person I’ve known, was interpreting for a deaf parent (she dated a deaf guy once and learned it) where the son had gotten in trouble the day before. As the guidance deans were sitting there with the referral the boy had gotten I got a kick out of Carrie’s changing demeaner to reflect attitude since she has to interpret not only each word, but the emotion behind them. Her neck was moving in a circle and her whole body was into it.

Then, she had to interpret what the student said that got him in trouble. She signed most of it, but had to spell out the last word.

And then he told the other student that he was gay and he should just go find his boyfriend and give him a B-L-O-W-J-O-B.

The mother looked confused about the last word and raised her hand to indicate that she didn’t understand that word. Carrie signed the phrase Do you understand? and the mother shook her head “no” so Carrie, sweet darling woman that she is, had to simulate a blowjob by leaning her head over and pretending to be in the act.

No one else could keep a straight face. Poor girl.

Again, I looked for the camera. Why isn’t it around when I need it?