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I hate people who say things like they meant to compliment you, but really they were complimenting themselves.


Examples:

1. I don't know where you find the time. I'm just so busy (with my important, important life) I just can't afford to get sucked in (to your silly little hobby).

2. Wow, I'm impressed you ate that whole thing. I could just never eat that whole plate (makes face like going to puke), I guess my stomache just can't take it (because it is so much smaller than yours and I am so healthy and skinny and you are fat).

3. It's good that you don't sweat the small stuff. I'm so anal, I would have to do the dishes right this minute because leaving them in the sink (like you just did) would gross me out and I wouldn't be able to enjoy myself (kind of like right now because I'm in your disgusting abode).

Any other examples out there, two readers?

Would You Buy Me a House?

... if you had a million dollars, that is?

I have several friends that right around my birthday every year tell me that it is slightly difficult to shop for me for my birthday. To which I say, are you on crack?

K has no problem with thinking of gifts for me because I'm greedy. Here are a few things she would buy for me (mind you these are mostly in her own words):

1. a bag of chips (Food Should Taste Good Multigrain Tortilla Chips, to be specific)

2. Chipotle gift card for a million dollars

3. a bookstore giftcard

4. a case of mac and cheese with barq's rootbeer on the side (I have no idea what she is talking about, and also why I am not losing weight...)

5. a Sephora gift card

6. pottery something...

7. cake

8. something from Pampered Chef (no worries, K, Carrie will hook you up!)

9. a bustier with some hot pink feathers please (don't ask me, this is K's list)

10. a computer that will play sims without video card issues

11. a new cell phone (but hey, why wait for my birthday?)

12. an avocado and a block of cheese

13. some high heels (the higher the better- and suprisingly, K was not the one who suggested high heels for the desert island)

14. a cookbook

15. plane tickets to go somewhere exciting

16. a book

17. something Muppets something. something.

18. Movies!

19. artwork to hang on our sad pathetic bare naked walls

20. Holli's own amazing photography artwork (don't laugh if you're reading this, I) framed

21. A lamp for my room

22. the perfect piece of pottery to give to my dad

23. another new cell phone for when I break the first one.

And that was only in the course of a five minute brainstorming session. And most of them were serious. The chips one was serious, not a joke. They bring me joy and make great nachos.

See how easy that was? Basically the message here is if you can't think of something to get me for a gift, obviously you have not brainstormed with K. Or been in my apartment. Or read my blog. Basically you are a terrible, horrible friend.

But seriously.

I've received a lot of gifts in my life. I've had 31 birthdays and 31 Christmases. Thinking back, there are certain gifts that stick out. Some examples, in no particular order:

1. The bowling ball, with shiney purple shoes and a carrying bag. How cool is that?

2. Muppets mugs. The Cutest Muppets Mugs. Ever. Still my favorite thing in my kitchen to drink from.

3. A plane ticket home from BYU to surprise my parents for Thanksgiving Freshman year. You may think you had the coolest college roommates ever, but you didn't. I did. It helped that there were five of them to pitch in.

4. A framed poster size picture of the Eiffel Tower I took when I was in Paris.



5. A homemade card made with love and sunshine. Because I work with the sweetest teenagers in the world.




6. A dump truck. Little Man picked it out himself. He wanted to share something that he liked with me. He is an exceptionally thoughtful boy.


7. A piece of artwork created specifically for me. Again, I work with such thoughtful kids! One of my teens made me a window for my office since I didn't have one, with a view of one of my favorite places I have traveled so far: Paris.

If you were closer not only would you note the Eiffel Tower, but also the little child with the balloon and walking with her mother, who is wearing a red beret and carrying a red purse, towards it. My kid (and by kid I mean 15 year old) whipped this up in 15 or 20 minutes.

The picture was double sided. The second side was a Parisian cafe, with the eiffel tower in the uper left corner. It's currently mostly covered by the curtain.

What do all of these things have in common? They were so stinking thoughtful, I can hardly stand it! In all of these cases, the person/people who gave the gift to me were so excited they could hardly stand it. They had become excited because they had thought about the gift, researched (in their own ways), come up with a plan, and presented it with fanfare. To me, that makes the best gift. A gift that was bought/made with thought, love, and care. And possibly a little bit of sneakiness. I like a well planned out surprise. I would not have asked for any of these things. When you ask me what I want, this is part of the reason I am resistant to giving you a list, even though my family gets one every year (my sisters often ignore my list and get me what they want, which is also totally cool). Really, isn't a person thinking about what would make you happy, and finding joy in your happiness a very cool thing? I think it is.

If You Were Stranded on a Desert Island

I have always thought questions that start with "if you were stranded on a desert island..." are slightly stupid. This might be partly owing to the fact that I am a detail person. If you give me a rule to follow, I will ask for clarification. You say that there is no eating in bed? What about if I'm sitting on my bed, and it is made? May I eat there? Is this a specific bed, or beds in general? What is the consequence if I break this rule? How will you monitor this? It's not that I'm a rule breaker, because I am generally a rule follower. But I need to know all the details so I can follow the rule properly. I'm not this anal in all situations. I think that this attention to detail springs mostly from supervising adults who are skilled at finding the loophole in everything. I need to know what the answers to the what-ifs are. Otherwise when that situation comes up, I turn all dumb, and get backed into the corner, and give a really stupid answer. And I don't like that feeling.

But I digress. My point is, if you ask what I would take with me if I were stranded on a desert island, I would have questions. To name a few:

1. If I knew I were going to be stranded, why would I get on the boat/plane that was going to strand me. Do I look that stupid?
2. Is there assurance I will be rescued, and if so, what kind of time period are we talking here? Would one novel hold me over, or would I need to take a library of books.
3. Would a library count as one item? It's not plural.
4. Am I alone, or is there anyone there with me? Like, say, a hot guy for eye candy that I want to look good for, or some mad skilled survivalist person who can build a raft out of dental floss and car tires, complete with rudder and sail.
5. Is there a certain number of things I can take with me?
6. Have I built a base tan in anticipation of being in the sun, or am I going to fry?
7. Is there food on this island? Like bananas, or wild boar?
8. Could my one thing be a satellite phone, or a chopper complete with pilot, or a yacht complete with captain?
9. There aren't going to end up being "others" on this island, are there?

Last week I polled a few friends who were asked what item I would take if stranded on a desert island. I got the following answers:
1. laptop
2. plane
3. high heels

I personally think the person who said plane knows me best. I mean, come on. If I had a plane I could run out for groceries and stuff when I got bored of being fanned with palm fronds by the hot guy I've been stranded with. A close second is the person who said heels. Because, hello. Hot guy. They could come in handy. Also you could squish bugs with them. But my computer? It holds practically no juice in the battery. I'm assuming that desert islands don't have wifi or electrical outlets. So, no, sillies, I wouldn't give the answer computer. Here are the ten things I would bring, if ten was the magic number, in order of importance.

1. Water, because sometimes desert islands don't have clean water sources.
2. Matches, a lighter, or at least steel wool and some batteries. Because I'm an amazing outdoors woman, yes, but I really don't want to do the whole creating friction to start a fire thing. I would be SO crabby by the time I got to eat.
3. Sunscreen. Because again, sunburn equals crabby. Also it damages your skin, and I'm determined not to have any more wrinkles than I have already accrued.
4. A good book. Or a library if I get to count that as one thing.
5. A chef. Because that would make it a total vacation, if I could have gourmet coconut and papaya roasted boar.
6. A friend to entertain me. Who wants to volunteer? (Keep in mind I have apparently placed you in importance below the chef, but that means that there would be a chef. So at least that sweetens the pot)
7. Sunglasses. I hate when the sun makes me squint. Like for instance this afternoon, coming out of church, the sun was out for at least a good twenty minutes, and it was totally bright. So disorienting.
8. Paper and pen set (see, a set is one thing) so I can write my own version of the Swiss Family Robinson in the form of my island memoirs. Mine will be SO much cooler because me and my buddy of mid-level importance will have a chef. And sunglasses. What could be better?
9. A yacht. For when I get bored of my island and want to move on to the next one. Also to house my movie theatre packed with all my favorite movies and TV shows on DVD.
10. My contact care kit so I'm not so blind I cannot see how hot my chef and/or the yacht crew are. Also so I can see if this island happens to have spiders or large bugs. But I prefer to think it would not.

Here's a question for you to ponder. What is my idea of the perfect gift? Email or comment what you think my idea of the perfect gift is, and also what your idea of the perfect gift is. Let's play the who knows Holliberry game.

Nothing Like a Slightly Creepy Tune

Exhibit A: I've never had a nightmare about a bunny, but I think I see one in my future...


Exhibit B: Picture me as the little "Where?" kitty.


Exhibit C: What is more romantice than telling that special someone you love their pants? Except maybe letting them know through magical, lyrical song that your life would suck without them.


This last one I do not consider creepy so much as my new anthem. I like cake.

It's Nacho Chili, It's MY Chili

Ingredients:
"Food Should Taste Good" Multigrain Tortilla chips Made with Flax, Sunflower, Sesame Seeds, etc.
Black Beans
Turkey Chili with Beans (Eating Right Brand)
Grated Medium Cheddar Cheese
Mild Salsa because I am a wuss.
Light Sour Cream so we can pretend this is low-fat (no you don't need to explain the error)
Olives

In a casserole dish, place a good layer of yummy, yummy chips in the bottom. Next, spread black beans and Turkey chili over the chips. Then grate cheese on top. Bake at 325 degrees farenheit for an eternity. Spread salsa, sour cream, and olives on top. Try to devour them all before your roommate gets around to getting out a plate. Repeat.

Texting: It's the New Note

Remember in junior high school, when we would write notes to our friends, and fold them up in magical little shapes that we practiced and prided ourselves on, with little tabs that said "pull?" I have often looked back nostalgically on those days. I love the creation of email, but I sometimes feel pity for kids nowadays, who don't write notes. But then it dawned on me- they text! It's totally the new note. Let's examine what we said then (and by we I mean me and my friends in junior high school) and what they say now.


Then: Phbbbbbbbbblt. (with smiley face sticking out tongue)
Now: :p


Then: He he he he he.
Now: LOL

Then: HA HA HA HA HA HA
Now: ROFL (or my favorite, ROFLCOPTER, meaning rolling on the floor laughing and spinning around).

Then: I don't get it.
Now: ?

Then: Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. (and yes, I wrote whole notes of this)
Now: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Then: BFF
Now: BFF (or BFFN--best friends for now)

Then: Wassup?
Now: Sup

And then there are the ones that apparently some kids use to pull one over on their parents. My personal opinion is that this is an age old craft, and if they think you have figured it out they will think of another way to hide things if it's that important to them. I myself had a number language with a good friend once. Although that was not so much to hide anything as it was to entertain ourselves. The only thing that scares me about this particular part of texting/IMing, is that Doctor Phil drew to light the fact that sometimes they are talking to people they don't know, more so online than texting, and it could be a pedophile. But it's probably just their friend who likes to cuss or talk dirty.

Happy Saint Paddy's Day

The Magical Online Cinematic World

I have declared this week technology week on my blog, or Why I Love the Internet. Today, we're talking about the joys of TV and movies on the Internet. I just cannot get over the wonder that is the Internet when it comes to the category of TV and Movie viewing online. Why, when I was a kid, we went to movies once in a while for a treat. When I got a little older, we had this thing called a VCR in our house. Now, I get movies in the mail! And I can stream them online. This totally multiplies the opportunities I have to watch movies about many topics, which can sometimes even be educational or mind-opening. It also gives me more choices when trying to select movies and TV shows to watch that match my moral standards. For instance, I can watch old seasons of Law and Order: SVU online through my DVD service. This came in very handy that one time when I was lying on my death bed. Also, I never would have found out that 1-800-Missing, based on Meg Cabot's book series which I enjoyed immensely, sucks. I would never have been able to pinpoint exactly which season Dead Zone started to suck. I would never have learned the true state of affairs in the french revolution, as so accurately displayed in The Scarlet Pimpernel. Lastly, I would not have been able to feed my obsession for my husband, Colin Firth, by finding lesser known movies he was in and watching them. Such gems as The Last Legion, The Importance of Being Earnest, The Accidental Husband, and When Did You Last See Your Father.

When I was a kid, you had to be home to watch your show, or hope they showed it in repeat. As I grew older, there were opportunities to record it on your special blank tape you bought for that purpose, which sometimes wore out, or ran out of room, or recorded over things you had not yet watched. And you could only record one show during that time period. Now, I can go online and watch almost any show I want, when I want. This is handy, since it's cheaper than getting one of those fancy shmancy machines that digitally records things (although those are also seriously cool and have their own benefits) and you can watch things at midnight if you don't get home till late. Since I have lots of night meetings, I generally miss most TV before 9:30. Given that I am a TVaholic, it would be tragic if I couldn't catch up on my shows. If you are not aware that the major networks have on demand opportunities to watch their shows online, you have been living a shallow and deprived life. There are also sites where you can watch clips and whole episodes of favorite TV shows. Did you know you can watch the A Team online? I pity the fool who misses out on that opportunity.

My Name is Holliberry, and I'm a Netaholic

I learned this weekend that I could be an internet addict. And so could you. Look at you, sitting there, surfing the web, reading blogs, checking your Myface. According to Time Magazine, the fact that I spend 6 hours on the internet most days (I am usually logged on while I'm at work, although I don't do work on the internet for the most part outside of sending emails and pulling the occasional bit of information off the web) is an indication that I should maybe go to a boot camp for a few months. They could be right. My intense anger and anti-social tendencies are most likely due to my attachment to my laptop. But it's shiney. And I like it.

In all seriousness, I am a wee bit concerned for today's youth. I talk to youth all the time who come straight from school or at least straight from their sport or club, and log on the internet (if they don't have it on their phone). They are on Myface, and they are blogging, and they have "good friends" they know solely online. Kids (and younger adults) are having fights, hooking up, and breaking up via text. I am all for technology. I sometimes stop myself from rolling my eyes (and other times don't stop myself) when people go on tangents about the evils of technology. It's amazing the things you can do nowadays. But that is a topic for later. My worry is that kids nowadays are learning to socialize and work out conflict with machines, instead of face to face. I really haven't read to much about the social skills and conflict management skills of our kids and how technology is impacting those things, but I do know that there is a whole new world of bullying and scandal being opened up by the ability to snap and send pictures at any time, post them on the internet, circulate them via email, blogs and myface, and get the chatter going via the same routes. Most kids I work with seem to have adapted to these issues, and think nothing of them, since this is all they have known. To me, it just adds to the feeling the world is going at a faster and faster pace. It makes me want to go live in a shack up in the mountain and raise goats. I wonder if I can get wifi up there....

I was at the store the other night and I walked past this guy leaning way over the jewelry counter and his friend said to him as I passed "man, that girl was looking at your booty!"

I totally wasn't. I almost turned around and demonstrated to him what that would look like.

Pay it Forward- My Fattening Food is Your Fattening Food

I got this from my friend Carrie's blog and thought it was a neat-o idea. Pay it Forward. The first three people to leave a comment on this post will receive, at some point during the year, some homemade goodies from me. What it will be and when it will arrive is a total surprise! The catch is that you must participate as well. Before you leave your comment, write up a pay it forward post on your blog to keep the fun going. Then sit back and anticipate the arrival of your goodies! Please submit in an e-mail your address, if I don't have it already. Remember that only the first three comments will receive a gift from me, so be quick! Have fun!

My Coma Care Plan

If I ever go into a coma you should play 80's tv show theme songs.

Like Golden Girls:



Or Murder, She Wrote:



Or for that matter, Perry Mason (yes, I know it was made in the 50's and 60's, but my mom watched it in the 80's.

The fact that there are lines through the screen make it feel even more it could have come off my tv back then.

I've discovered that I find most tv theme songs from the 80's soothing. It takes me back to a time in my childhood when I didn't worry about money, or who was being mean to me (at least not for longer than a day, generally), or cleaning my room. Okay, I still don't worry about cleaning my room much. But I've noticed that they take me back. So if I'm ever in a coma, while you are in a bedside vigil, you can also play me some 80's theme songs. Also episodes of Law and Order: SVU. Because who wouldn't find that soothing on their death bed.

What brought this on? Bad tv. It left me with no other option but to watch old tv shows on the Hallmark Channel (shoosh, you tv-turning-off crazies!). The other thing I have come to realize while watching Golden Girls is that I need one of these, so I can be a proper lady like Blanche:


The bottle style, not necessarily the brand.

I Sound Like...

A man.



I have a scratchy low-down thing going on with my voice. No other symptoms really. Just a sexy man voice.

Courtesy Message With Which to Improve Your Life

For keeping your life organized, my apartment mangagement would like to inform you of the following important fact with which you can do what you will:

"Daylight savings time of springing forward begins this Sunday March 8th this year." Next year, we will be springing back a certain measurement of time which happens to be an hour, or 60 minutes, on some date yet to be determined in the month of March, which is in the Spring, see.

The Care and Management of Teenagers

Just out of curiousity, which parent is letting their teenagers wander around the neighborhood at midnight? Because your kids were playing frogger on the busy four lane road in dark clothing as I was driving home. Obvoiusly they are not ready to be let out alone yet.

I always wonder what the parents are like who allow their kids to do things like that. I want to have a talk with them, and explain to them that teenagers don't need you to be their friend. They have friends. They need you to set rules, and be their parents. I know that we don't generally look back at our teenage years and think, gosh, I really wish my parents had restricted me more. Or gee, I'm glad they had rules! At least, not until we get older, and have children in our lives that we worry about. And I'm not suggesting that parents don't give their teenagers some freedom to take risks, but they shouldn't just take risks willy nilly. There have been studies, people. Very good ones. You are there to teach them to be responsible, caring adults, who have good decision making skills. Yes, they need to make some decisions on their own, and be in charge of themselves more and more. If they are developing those decision-making skills at midnight with their friends in the dark between games of frogger, do you think that will help them more than being at home with you in the middle of the night? Possibly getting some sleep? Because they also need more sleep. And more sleep will help them make better decisions, like not running across a busy road at midnight in dark clothes because the cute boy you like is telling you to.

No, I'm not a parent. But I was a teenager. Also I work with them. And read studies about them all the time. And take classes about them, because every two years they seem to change and want totally different things, have different slang words, qualify different things as cool and uncool, and listen to different music. It's exhausting to keep up, I tell you. So I'm not saying I will succeed grandly as a parent of a teenager. But my hope is my kid won't be the one playing frogger at midnight.

My Brain is More Creative Than Your Brain

I had the craziest dream.

I was at a family reunion at this really nice retreat center somewhere. It was time for the opening dinner, and apparently I had volunteered to help out in some way at this reunion. My mom handed me the napkins, and asked me to set them at each place, which had a place card saying who was to sit there, in some fancy fluffy way, which makes total sense considering my deep love for crafts and all things crafty. Mind you this was a huge banquet hall, and the tables seemed to be arranged in a ginormous horshoe shape, with diners on both sides of the table. As I made my way around the table, I saw my cousin. Apparently we both worked at the high school we graduated from together. I asked him how work was going. He said it was great. I asked him if he was worried about getting laid off and he said no, which I thought was strange because I was fairly certain we were going to get laid off. I didn't have time to warn him about this , though, because I was maybe a third of the way around the tables and people were already starting to eat. As I made my way around the table I got more and more cranky, because I was not done setting their places, and they were already tucking into their food. Finally I got to the last side of tables, and my aunt or someone came and told me to just come and eat. I was a little irritated that she didn't value my fancy napkin settings, and to see that all of the people at that side of the tables had just grabbed a napkin from the pile and didn't care that I had intentions of making their place settings lovely.


I went to take my seat, and was irritated to find that my place had been assigned far away from my sisters who had seats together. At some point I went down a very long slide, like at a water park but with no water, to get to the place the napkins were. I was greated by a girl who was helping with the event, who I think was supposed to be a cousin. I wanted to be irritated with her, because she was making me sit where I didn't want to, and mingle with people instead of just sitting with my sisters, but she was very nice so I couldn't be. So we sat down and had dinner and had a lovely time.



After dinner it had dwindled down to me and a few other poeple. Room assignments had been given after dinner and I had missed hearing where my sisters had been assigned. I was given a key and got on the elevator to find my room. The place we were in was hotel-like. My cousin who I had eaten with went to her room, and somehow I also followed her actions as well as mine in the dream. She had a lovely room with a huge closet, all to herself, because she was rich and her rich mother had payed for the very best. They came to this retreat resort all the time, and she was used to having the best. I went to my room and opened the door to find a very large, nice room that I was sharing with strangers. In the nearest bed, which was like a triple king, there were already two people laying down to go to sleep, a man and a woman (in a clean disney kind of way, people). I was delighted to recognize the man as my college roommate's husband, Brett. I went over to give him a hug and he fell asleep, so I left him to get some sleep as his was obviously exhausted. Wierd, I know. He and the other people in the room were there for a conference for work. I was anxious to know where my sisters' room was and went on a search for it. I don't think I ever found them.

I don't recall going to bed but I must have gotten some sleep somehow. The next day the cousins were all gonig to go on some kind of field trip. We were all intrigued because it was a surprise set up by my aunt. We got in cars, and set out from the retreat center. As we exited the retreat center we crossed a bridge. Every few car lengths, a drop-arm barrier, like you would see at a toll booth or railroad crossing, would come down and stop us. I'm not sure what was going on, but I had the impression that this bridge was like a drawbridge. Except we were spaced out all along the bridge so I'm not sure where it would draw up.


At the other end of the bridge was our surprise. We all gathered expectantly in an office foyer, wondering what the building was. And then of course the dream changed completely into some other little random dreams. So now we will never know what the surprise was. I blame it on K. All the sudden she was there talking about boys and waiting for one to call her.

Rest in Peace

Paul Harvey died! I remember listening to Paul Harvey's stories while my mom drove around doing errands (free lollipops at the bank drivethru!) in our little silver minivan. Hearing his voice takes me back to the olden days, when things were simpler and my biggest worry was whether Mom would let me stay up later. He always told The Rest of the Story.

Seriously?

There are no words.

I Will Heal, But There Will Be Scars.

This weekend I had a very traumatic experience. I would like for us all to take a moment in silence to observe the passing of... my phone. It kicked the bucket. Or it halfway did at least. I can half see who is calling. I cannot, however, see my texts, and this is tragic. Especially since some of my friends do not realize that their phone has a secondary purpose, after texting. You can talk into those things, kids! Even my mother texts me now.

I am feeling very very poor right now, so the first thing that happened when i crushed my phone was that I wanted to cry. I didn't quite cry, but I thought about it. I believe I may have gone through all the stages of grief. Let's see...

1. Denial: Maybe if I turn it off and let it rest for a while the screen will just heal.

2. Anger: Stupid phone. How can they not make a phone that can withstand a little bit of abuse? I paid enough money for it it shouldn't break this easy. Stupid T cell phone company.

3. Bargaining: Maybe I can return it. Even though I'm the one who damaged it. Now where is that receipt...

4. Depression: I'll never talk to my friends again. Phones are expensive. I'm so sad.

5. Acceptance: Fine, I'll go buy a cheap one. Which I hate. Until I find that it has some cute ringtones. And I am learning all kinds of helpful things from the manual. Like how to hold it up to your ear. I never knew that before. Also, "do not drop, knock, or shake the device. Rough handling can break internal circuit boards and fine mechanics."

Now they tell me.

I Feel It Is My Duty to Inform You...

I just read that one third of women's purses have fecal bacteria on the bottom of them. I am so disturbed. Girls, hang them on the hooks in public restrooms! Also, go to the first stall. It's statistically the cleanest.

Also, the kitchen sink is a dirty, dirty place.

I feel so enlightened now.