The awkward moment when you finally understand the Spice Girls naming conventions.

This is here for the cuteness factor.

So, I was reading this article on how Americans are apparently adopting Bristishisms wholesale. (For the record, I don’t buy it. I've never heard an American say “Bob’s your uncle” or “barmy” unless he was imitating a British person. It’s gonna take a lot more than a love of Downton Abbey for Cockney rhyming slang to gain a foothold here.) Anyway, that article linked to another article which mentioned that the term “ginger,” meaning “redhead,” was popularized by the delight that is Ron Weasley, although “singer Geri Halliwell, aka Ginger Spice, also played her part in making the term better known.”

And then I stopped cold.

 Wait. They called her Ginger Spice because she had red hair? This was a revelation to me. I knew Brits called redheads “ginger” but I never connected that to Ginger Spice.

So, why had I previously thought she was called Ginger? Yes, that's right. Because ginger is a spice, obviously. In fact, I thought she was the only one of the five who was logically named. "They’re called 'The Spice Girls,' yet only one is actually named for a spice. Why are they calling her 'Sporty'? Why aren't they calling her, like, “Cinnamon” or something?"

Not my best day.

Great balls of fire!

I just received word from Melis that the aunts went to see Million Dollar Quartet today and they were "giddy as schoolgirls to meet Fake Johnny Cash, Fake Elvis, etc."

I can picture it now. And it's delightful

Also, I like saying "Fake Johnny Cash." Because I am a dork.

Oscar doesn't look grouchy. He looks kinda psycho.

So, you may know from my photo blog that Julia's Oscar balloon had to ride home from Philly in my car. I had dinner with Jen, Jules, Melis, Brian, and Drama Club Eric tonight, so I took the balloon to give it back. I thought I had anchored it pretty well toward the floor of the backseat, but I guess it dislodged itself. So, picture it: I'm driving along and in my rearview mirror I see this face rising up slowly from the floor of my backseat:


GAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Look, I know it's a cartoon balloon (How many of you spontaneously started singing Elton John's Levon just then?) but all I saw was a psychotic face rising up out of my backseat and for a split second I screamed in fright. Then I nearly wrecked, and took almost two miles to calm myself down. That split second may have been the greatest terror I have ever experienced.

I know now that if a murderer is ever really hiding in my backseat, I will die of a heart attack before he ever gets his hands on me. I can only hope that he's horribly disfigured in the wreck that is sure to follow, but not too disfigured to serve a life sentence for manslaughter. I want my vengeance, even from the grave.

Candy, candy canes, candy corn, and syrup.

So, last night my mom sent me to WalMart to pick up some stuff for her. I was standing there when I saw that all that was in my basket was a boatload of spaghetti and syrup. That was when I realized something.

I looked like I was shopping for Buddy the Elf.

A small confession

Whenever I hear On the Dark Side, it makes me want to join a band in which I will wear black leather pants and play the tambourine. My boyfriend, the lead singer, is dark and tortured, but he’s sweet to me because I understand him.

Also, I wear bright red lipstick.

I am so jittery.

I had a headache today, so I took an Excedrin Migraine. Then I followed it up with not one, but two Mocha Frappacinos. What was I thinking?

"Yes, Doctor, I realize it was foolish to eat the cookie."

So I overheard some of my co-workers talking about Girl Scout cookies. Apparently it's once again time for those peppy, chipper little girls to start hocking their sugar wafers. And that's when I had a terrible realization, and I went to my desk drawer, and pulled out a FULL BOX OF SAMOAS! Never opened! And what's worse is that while I think they're from last year, in my heart of hearts I know they might be even older. Strangely, though, they look exactly the same.

I was tempted to try to bite into one, but I didn't want to contract a severe case of food poisoning and then have to explain to emergency room personnel that I ate a cookie that was at least a year old, possibly older, just to guage the preservative qualities of Girl Scout sweets.

This year, I'm sticking to Thin Mints.