Beach Day musings

Just a few thoughts and observations from an AWESOME time at the beach with Rick.

• LARGE fat man in a Speedo: Never ok. Never, ever, ever ok. Like a car accident, I just couldn't look away. I need soap for my eyes.


• Group of "serious" cyclists in their cycling costumes for half a mile down PCH. Right in the midde of them: 2 dudes with swim trunks on beach cruisers drinking something out of red Solo beer pong cups. Awesome.


• You might be a redneck if: You have a giant FREEBIRD tattoo spanning your entire back. (Jeff Foxworthy, you may use this.)


• We brought chairs this time, but no umbrella. Rookies. But we are learning.


• Rick and I had a rock skipping contest. He won by a huge margin. I did, however find a sparkly rock in the perfect shape of a heart. :)


• 6 little Asian children getting LUNCHED on their Boogie Boards. Almost like "Wipeout, the Reality Show."


• Spandex is only for skinny people.

Great day! Had the best time laughing with my BEST friend!

just Dawn

Celebrity and Me

Most people who know me know how largely unimpressed with all things "Celebrity" that I am. Please refer to several earlier posts if you enjoy angry rants about the rich, famous, and egomanaical. Today, I was thinking about the fact that I have actually met a lot of celebrities from all walks...movies, television, sports, music, and theater (Well, not exactly theater, I am from Las Vegas and I have met Bambi and Bambi Junior. Plus Frank Marino who does a dead on Joan Rivers! That counts, right?)

Redd Foxx: I met him at the Boulevard Mall in Las Vegas when I was in about 6th grade. I knew him from Sanford and Son NOT from his raunchy XXX rated comedy. So it was no wonder that looking back, he gave me an odd greeting. I asked him for his autograph, which he graciously gave, and then handed me 5 bucks and told me to go buy a small bone for my dog. Me: "Mom! Redd Foxx gave me 5 bucks!" Mom: *dodgy glance at crazy old man*

Ozzy Osbourne: Backstage, Diary of a Madman Tour, I think....some of the 80s are blurry. Ozzy: "Mmfgmldphngfd!" Me: "OMGsh! Totally!! I love you Ozzy!!!" Sigh. Stupid teenager.

Red Hot Chili Peppers
Anthony Kiedis and Flea: At Paradise Alley in Las Vegas. I was there with some (rowdy) friends from a local band and as we walked through the parking lot, all of the band gentlemen were acquainted. They began to have a friendly pool ball chucking exchange. (I don't get boys. At. All.) Anthony noticed me as I deftly dodged a cue ball, and he practically squealed, "YOU'RE GODIVA!" I told him I was, and it turns out several of the band guys and crew were huge wrestling fans. He asked me if I could Airplane Spin him. Being that he is about 5'5" and weighs about a buck o five, I assured him I could. Wait for it...."SPIN ME!! GODIVA SPIN ME!" I spun him. Right in the parking lot. He ran away, thrilled, and told me to wait here. He comes back with Flea, who is a more rabid fan than Anthony. Flea tells me he and the drum roadie have a wrestling match planned on the front lawn at Caesars for the next morning AND would I show him some moves?!!! (ONLY IN LAS VEGAS!) Hell to the yeah I will, Flea! So we adjourned to a VIP room at PA and I put Flea in a figure 4 leg lock. (This is a legit and painful wrestling move, non-fans, so please do not read anything R-rated into this exchange.)
Several years later, a good friend of mine, Tony, went to LA to audition for the Chili Peppers. So did a lot of guitar players. Anthony looks at his intake form, info, etc. and says, "You're from Las Vegas?! Do you know Godiva?!" My friend almost fell over in the How-random-can-you-be-catagory.

Paul Anka: Lived next door to him for a couple of years. This one really doesn't count because I only met his dog. I threw her treats almost daily as my private entrance to the house overlooked her dog run.

Jim Dandy: I only include this because it is wierd. He is some guy from some hippie-esque 70s rock band called Black Oak Arkansas. I didn't know who he was, even when he sang me their "famous" song. He didn't care we totally laughed. I'll be more impressed if any of you know who he is, than by the actual him.

Known Godiva fans:
Bruce Jenner. Mt. Fiji met him once at a benefit and he went right over to her and asked her if Godiva was here. I wasn't, but apparantly, the Olympian made a big fuss over his love for me. Look out Kris Jenner! Woohoo! Kim and Chloe could be my semi-step kids!!
Brian "Boz" Bosworth, Seattle Seahawks. Sent "His People" up to me in La Dome in Hollywood to let me know "The Boz" wanted to meet me at his table. I told said "People" that Boz was welcome to join me, but Godiva would not be summoned by an American football player. Boz joined me briefly, to tell me he was a fan and hang out for a bit. Sweet, really, once the "entorauge" nonsense was disabled.

I actually have lots of celebrity stuff...between growing up in Las Vegas and being a quasi-television personality (reality TV before its time) and living in LA, I've met lots of famous and infamous. Apparently, I told a serious Mafia Don in Little Italy in New York, that I wouldn't wash my feet in the swill of the champagne that he offered to purchase. Oops.
I won't include it all lest you think that I am IMPRESSED by them. Still not....except one encounter...The only time one, (or 2 or 3) of them took my breath away......

Sammy Davis Jr., Liza Minelli, and Joey Ramone: I was invited to be a guest at the Jerry Lewis Telethon in New York with Sammy Davis Jr. I was in line with Fiji to sign in, find dressing rooms, etc., when someone taps me on the shoulder and asks me if I know where she is supposed to sign in. I turn around...it's LIZA FREAKING MINELLI. Yeah. Pick up your stupid gaping jaw "Godiva". I'm sure I said something completely idiotic to her. I have NO idea. I resume the check in process, kicking myself for being such an uncool douche, while behind me I hear, "It's Godiva! No seriously, it's HER!" I turn around, ready to restore my battered faith in my own cool by interacting with an obviously enamoured fan....and it's Joey Ramone. Lurching over me like a 6'7" Rock and Roll Cousin It. Coolest. Rock STAR. Ever. I ignored him and almost barfed. (I was still reeling from Liza with a Z, and JOEY RAMONE shuffles up??? AND he loves me?!) I can't even describe how completely freaked out I was when one of the Rat Pack, Mr. Las Vegas, SAMMY! comes in to my dressing room to welcome me. I had pulled myself together a bit in anticipation of meeting him, but I confess to being less than smooth.
OMGsh Dawn, what a poseur of a Diva you are! You can't even stand your own in a room with Las Vegas AND Punk Rock royalty. (In my defense, WHO puts those two together???) Luckily, I had bought into my own mystique by the end of the taping (the Ramones did "Sedated" live, yes they did.) and was able to have a normal convo with Joey. He was shy and sweet. And a Godiva fan. For those of you keeping track...this makes me officially, and forever...cool.

So, unimpressed though I may be by celebrity in general, I smile at my brushes with greatness. Maybe one or two of them smiled at their brushes with me.

just Dawn

Selective Memory

Michelle and Dawn - we should be ashamed of ourselves! Nearly a month has gone by since one of us posted something worthwhile to our blog, and that is simply unacceptable. I'd like us to do something about that immediately. And Michelle, since you follow direction exceptionally well (especially if it's coming from yourself), go to it.





"Okay. But what if I don't have anything of significance to write about?"





Then you might want to recognize that as a sad lack of creative writing skills. Or, a severe state of pitiable boredom.





"Hmmm, yes. One or both of those sounds very plausbible."





Just write what you write best: you know, that whole cynicism thing.





"Good call. I like the way you think, me."





And that's how it went in my head. So, here I am, trying to get in at least one more blog post in the month of June. (Which should tell you right now that I'm not writing this post because it was inspired by some amazing/fascinating/irritating/humorous observation. Or, inspired by something meaningful. Kind of like tattoos: If you have to ask your friends, "So, what should I get tattooed on my body this time?", then you probably don't actually need to get one. Things that require you to permanently alter your body for the duration of your life should, in my humble opinion, be at least mildly significant and have a point to them. But moving on...)





And now that I've overclarified the backstory to this post, let's get started. I've decided that instead of being all cynical and complain-y, I thought I'd write something entertaining (probably only to me) and maybe even nostalgic (again, probably only for me. And maybe my sister.)





I went to Disneyland with my family this past week, and I definitely noticed that seeing it through my nieces' eyes made it extra fun. But I have to admit that I'm pretty sure I didn't need 3 little girls there to get me to that place of childlike euphoria and awe. Other than feeling like my legs and feet had been beat with lots of tiny angry fists by the end of the day, or shaking my head at the prices of things in a digruntled way that clearly shows I've been jaded by the economy, I was pretty much in the mindset of a kid the whole time.





Disneyland holds some of the best, most comforting childhood memories for me, and it made me start thinking about the other things that were a part of my youthhood that still make me feel exactly like I did as a kid. I thought I'd list some of those. Some may need explanation ("why do you receive comfort from mail slots in front doors, or the smell of certain kinds of laundry detergent, Michelle?" Don't worry about it.), and some probably won't. And some will probably have you embarrassed for me. We'll see, won't we. Here goes...

• "Mary Poppins." This shouldn't even require explanation. But, basically, I call that movie my "comfort food" movie. Everything about it makes me feel...comforted. And carefree. I can't tell you how happy I was when I heard my nephews were obsessed with the movie. That put them as officially a part of our family, in my opinion.




• Huey Lewis. But only because it reminds me of "Back to the Future." Which leads me to Michael J. Fox. I don't know how he made such a hideous puffy, nylon vest look so attractive and cool, but he did. And he did a fine job of it.




• The really awful, pointy animation of "Sleeping Beauty." Today, it looks almost purposeful because it seems all arty and surrealist, but that's probably not what they were going for in 1959. And that's perfectly fine.




• Laffy Taffy and Fruit Roll-Ups, neither of which taste anything like the original. They're both still deceptively called by their original names, but instead of "grape" flavor or "cherry" flavor, there's "Psychedelic Rainbow flavor!" Or, "Banana Strawberry Smoothie!" No.




• The smell of chlorine. This is one of those that probably needs some explaining. That smell will always remind me of swimming lessons in indoor pools with flourescent lighting and echoe-y, loud voices and not noticing if you got a swimsuit wedgie. Not noticing or just not caring. One or both of those.




• The Beach Boys and John Denver...together. This is because these were my family's first two Real! Live! C.D.s! So of course we listened to them on rotation one summer when I was a kid living in California and swimming all day long. So, naturally, summer and swimming and the music of The Beach Boys and the original Rocky Mountain High go together quite nicely for me.




• Toto's "Africa", and Willie Nelson singing "You Were Always on my Mind." Okay wait; let me explain. As a kid, my parents got an Oldsmobile, and with that majestic piece of automotive machinery came a delightful casette tape of songs picked out specifically by, I'm guessing, the makers of the Oldsmobile. Maybe they were hoping the music would inspire the driver of their automobile to imagine himself coasting down an open road with wind in his hair and a beautiful woman making herself right at home on his sexy maroon, felt car seats, and then the driver would go tell all his middle aged, little -league-dad friends that they too can have that life: the life of an Oldsmobile owner. Either way, the songs on that tape would be a volitle and piercing ringing to anyone else's ears. But to my siblings and I, the music is pure gold. We still talk about "the Oldsmobile tape" and I've gone as (pathetically?) far as to try and remember every song on it so I can create a playlist. Which brings us back to Toto and Willie Nelson. They both made an appearance on the casette, and they will forever be known as "family road trip" music for me.

So, there's some nostalgia for you. My own, but still; nostalgia nonetheless.

(Let the mocking from Dawn about every musical reference in this post begin...)

Just Michelle

Movin' on Up.

Moving is fun. I'll bet you've never seen those words written together. But here I am, in my "New Digs" (more on that later) and I've forgotten the pain and hassle of moving. The backbreaking physical WORK of moving all of our belongings from point A to point B and then spit shining point A AND point B. (No, I didn't spit on anything, people, did you just meet me?!) It's kind of like child birth....tons of work and discomfort and pain, and then your whole life is happy and new and wonderful. (Well, for 19 years at least.)

At this point, dear Reader, go back and read my post about Lake Forest. Hey Lake Forest, Hell called, they want to know where they can get some more leaf blowers.

Humorous moving stories: #1. I drugged my dog. Poor Ruby! Both of them must have taken note of that because they have been on their absolute best behavior. #2. I have a cardboard cut out of a "Luau Guy" and a "Hula Bikini Girl", you know, where you put your face in the hole where their face should be and take pictures of Grandma and Grandpa as sexy hula folk. Hilarity ensues. Well the 3 ex-cons we hired from "Super Cheap Moving Company...We'll make ya an offer youse can't refuse!" thought it was hilarious too and I walked in on them posing and snapping photos. Their embarassment was adorbs, especially when I told one of them that that bikini made his boobs look nice. But hey, they got a good Facebook post out of it. #3. Incredible friend Jim shows up to help and works with us all day on both ends. He is carrying in a large box of dishes and the box gives out. The crash was deafening and everyone stood in silence. John was waiting for a serious swear word, I was trying to think of something nice to say so he wouldn't feel bad like, "Oh, I didn't have room for those dishes anyway." and Rick walks in and says, "Hey Ballidis, you're Greek!...OPAHH!!!"
Funny husband AND friend points.

Non-humorous moving stories: #1. 1st night in our new house, glorious sunset, across the street neighbors making us dinner...John's car breaks down on the freeway. Super-size my stress, please! I didn't want any money anyway! #2. Washing machine making clicking sound instead of washing sound. No repairman till Thursday. #3. Plug in my trusty PC and get lines, static, 4 beeps and power off. (Ok, maybe this one is funny, because after I got done panicking, contacting my IT guy on retainer, and removing the battery, I realized that I was using the wrong power cord. User error, again. (I owe said IT guy a box of cupcakes from Frostings.)

WORST part of the move: Money stress, sore back, more money stress. Finding a new Costco, Vet, and Del Taco. Transferring all of my prescriptions. Not being able to find______(fill in the blank...band aids when Rex busted open his tail, box cutter when boxes got 2 stories high, garlic press.) Waiting for the cable guy. I HATE waiting for the cable guy. I despise the phrase "new digs" to describe moving into a new home, and 3 people in a row asked me how the "new digs" are. Did I mention the money stress?

BEST part of the move: The nightly sunset light and color show is a gift. God talks to me in colors a lot, and being here is just confirmation to me that He desires to be close to me. That He wants to make me smile, and He is promising me a colorful smile 365 evenings a year. I AM God's masterpiece, along with His ocean, His sun, and His sky. Wow. It feels amazing to be loved this much. In light of this, you may disregard the previous list of "Worsts". There is no worst when we get all of God's best.

Plus, God doesn't take Visa or Mastercard. Whew! Finally no money stress. If you need me, I'll be on my new patio asking God how to blend orange into purple so seamlessly. (If you are on my Christmas gift list, you are all getting paintings of sunsets. I will try to do Him justice.)

just Dawn

Africa is not funny..

Misch and I keep getting asked how come we have not blogged about Africa. Well, this is a humor blog (so we think) and our experience in Sierra Leone was not, frankly, on the level of things we poke fun of here. It was magical, moving, spirit-filled, hard, hazardous, amazing, poignant, meaningful, and knock-you-to-your-knees-in-search-of-your-savior indescribable. It was a bonding experience between me and my 5 new best friends, plus our home team of support and prayer warriorers, the most beautiful country and people that God ever created, our amazing PEACE team, and the love and faith of our families. This is what lifted us up, and gave us courage.

That being said, Michelle and I WERE roommates, which often led to hilarity. (So we think.)

In the insanity that was traffic in Freetown, we saw many creative means of transporting unusual belongings. Seen: A young man carying a 12' wooden beam on his head. NO hands! Walking down a busy city street! Seen: 37 people in a 12 passenger van with no side door (public transportation) with a goat smashed up against the back window. No wasted space! In this same catagory, goat on a motorcycle, complete with two passengers, and goat on the top of a van. Three days later, crammed in a van with 11 people, all our luggage, and a homemade African meal complete with china and silverware, (ask us about this...it was an amazing experience!) when we passed the van with the goat in the back, someone in the van said "Look at how crammed in they are!" I said, What are you talking about, all we're missing is the goat!"

Michelle fashioned her skirt into a dress in order to get a good second wearing out of it. TOTALLY different outfit, y'all!

Stacey ate a double helping of "cake" that was at the bottom of a crock pot full of fish. (The funny part here was her expression when she saw where the "cake" came from. YUM!)

Me and Michelle, first night in our hotel room. Toilet does not flush. I call the front desk. "Oh hi, this is room whatever and I just wanted to let you know that our toilet does not flush." Front desk: "What?" Me: "Our toilet does not flush." Front desk: "You have been flashed?" Me: "What?" Front desk: "Flashed! Flashed!" Me: "No...toilet. Toilet. Flush. Flush!" Sigh. Communication deficiency brings out the idiot in me.

Krio Explanation: "How de body?" means "How are you?", "How's it going?" Friendly greeting. Well, a VERY sweet Sierra Leonian merchant says this phrase to me. A couple of times. (Obviously, I wasn't answering correctly in kind.) I continue to smile and say goofy things to him, and then go over to my team and happily anounce that that nice man invited me to a party! Someone says, "No, he said something about your body!" Me, embarassed, says, "No, I'm sure he invited me to a party." Susan: "No Dawn, he said How de body?" We laughed at me for several minutes.

On the way out of Sierra Leone we had to take a water taxi to where the airport is in Lungi. It will make the story funnier to know that I am deathly afraid of boats, water, drowning, and shoddy regulations on water transportation in 3rd world countries. After much confusion on the dock, part of our party went onto the boat and part of us were held back. While trying to communicate that we had to all go together, even if the ones on the boat already had to get off, we were sumarrily shushed and told to wait, wait, you are next. Not knowing if that mean actual next, or the next boat, anxiety began to rise in my heart. Also hilarious is the fact that I was "Security" for our team, keeping my eyes open and bringing up the rear. We were, gratefully, actual next, and as we scurried down the dock toward the boat, my sandal broke, COMPLETELY, and my suitcase capsized in the middle of the dock and passengers. I slipped off my shoe, righted my bag, and, sweating and hyperventilating, caught up with my team. I stepped onto the wrong area on the way onto the boat (dock buoy) balancing my freaking crappy bag, broken shoe, and purse, and very nearly went into the water next to the boat. A nice employee of the water taxi "company" grabbed my arm to keep me from collapsing into the bay, took my bag from me, fixed my sandal in 2 seconds, and shaking his head says, "How you manage?" Sigh. How you manage indeed. Dawn's next personalized license plate: HOWUMNG

Laura, Dawn, Michelle...3 to a bed night. I probably shouldn't even include this here because we were pretty much exhausted and mentally spent and ended up rooming together for the night. MINISTRY TEAM in da house!!! We had a king sized bed, and I'm pretty sure Laura and I were just glad we got Michelle because she was the smallest. Watching her get tangled up 3 times in the yukky mosquito net over the bed was pretty funny too. But then again, in our state of mind that evening, everything was funny! No, it was hilarious. We stayed up and giggled stupid until 4:00 in the morning.

At breakfast the next morning after 2 merciful hours of sleep: (Food being passed...) Person next to me plops a spoonful of fishricebeans on top of my bag. He looks down and says, "Oh I'm sorry." I say, "It's ok, it just looks like someone pooped on my bag!" (We laugh.) Denise: "What!! Someone pooped on your bag? WHAT? WHAT?!!" Hahaha! The fact that that was in the realm of possibility in Denise's mind....funny.

You have heard a fraction of the funny. Here is the short version of the joyful: Healing service at church for pregnant women and women who have recently given birth. Mercyship in Sierra Leone. The glow of joy and the Holy Spirit in the eyes and heart of the first lady, Worship service in Makeni. Smiling, beautiful children. Restoration. Rebuilding. Hope. Red earth.

If you asked each of my teammates to convey their take on this amazing shared experience, we could fill a book. Michelle, Laura, Denise, Stacey, and Susan...you make me laugh, and in our laughter, you bring me closer to God. It's not even close to enough to say I love you. (I could do a whole blog post on inside jokes. I won't. You're welcome. But if I should live to be a hundred, I will still laugh at BEN-jamin!!!!)

Team SL 2011
just Dawn

Cher Said it First

The other day, I (Michelle) was thinking about things I would love to tell my younger self. Not things like, Stop stressing over your math class; one day you'll have a calculator in your phone, or, Here's a tip: body suits worn with vests and palazzo pants are worth regretting.

No, I was thinking more along the lines of, Worthwhile Lessons I've Learned. (Such as, "Redundancy is often just a form of helpful clarification.") So, to quote a legend (or, whatever. People like to call her that. Fine.), "If I could turn back time"....I'd help myself out a bit.
Here's a few ways I'd do that....

1. Speak up. For yourself, and for people who can't do it for themselves. You'll regret it more if you stay quiet just so that everyone will think you're "nice and sweet." And on that note....
2. Not everyone is going to like you; stop trying to make that your life's goal.
3. Try eating things you're afraid of. You might actually like alligator. (Chewy, but delightful.)
4. You don't have to journal every day, but PLEASE, at least jot down a short bullet pointed list of events and experiences you don't want to forget. Believe me: you won't remember 1995's events when it's 2011.
5. Hang around with old people. The non-curmudgeons are precious and have a lot to say. (And even if that "a lot" is just a lot of talk about their trip to Lowes to pick up more perennials and tomato plants, just listen and smile.)
6. Don't just define yourself as a "non-risk taker." If you do, you'll never (wait for it)... take risks. And then you'll end up chastising yourself for missed opportunities. (Which will just make you look crazy - all that talking to yourself.)
7. Look out for yourself. Be "mean" if you have to. Seriously, younger self: don't give up control of your diginity for a dumb reason like not wanting to hurt and/or disappoint someone. Whose head do you have to live in the rest of your life? That's right: yours. (Or, mine. Yours then, mine now. It gets confusing. Stay with me, younger me.)
8. Don't miss a chance to affirm someone.
9. If people claim that you "have to" read the Harry Potter books or the Twilight series, and you already have too many books on your list that you actually want to read, stick to your guns. (Because, really: it's vampires and non-vampires. And unrequited love. With teen angst. Boom. Synopsis done.)
10. Send occasional notes, e-mails, texts, calls to your family and people you love and appreciate. It's morbid, but if you have something you want someone to know, do it while it's on your mind because - you know - death and all that.
11. Let people verbally slap the "crazy" out of you sometimes.
12. Don't take age into consideration: if you want to take up tap dancing or piano lessons or go to circus school, and you're 47, just go for it. (Tap shoes look cute at any age.)
13. Good story or not, some dates really are pointless.
14. Yes - buy that one amazing, stunning, sparkly, out of control piece of clothing.

15. Also, ask yourself this (frequently, if you have to): "Do you ever just let God love you?" And then do just that. Let Him do His grace thing for you. (It's okay, younger me - you and I will always be working on this. He gets it.)

And if I really could turn back time, I'd also tell myself, "Don't go with the permed bangs. Bad idea."

Just Michelle

I'm Bringin' Foxy Back...

One of the benefits of having been alive now in 4-ish different decades, is getting to see the trends and pop culture icons of a wide variety of influences. I happen to have quite a few strong opinions (did you just MEET me?) about music, culture and fashion trends through the ages, if you will. To help you out, I have compiled a list of: Stuff That Just Sucked, I Can't Believe I Wore That, I Can't Believe He/She Wore That, What Were We Thinking?, and, conversely, That Was Awesome, We Should Bring That Back. For those of you not privleged enough to have first hand experience and opinions on such a wide variety of pop culture experiences, I feel sorry for you. Ok, whatever... Stuff That Just Sucked 60s-00s (please, I was just born in the 60s!)

• Hippies. Filthy, drugged, promiscuous, bad dressers (exceptions: Fringe Jackets. See 80s)


• Bob Dylan. Yuk. Please do not comment if you find him brilliant. I will not get you.


• Vietnam.


• Streakers. (Young people, Google it. It was bad.)


• Disco. Donna Summer fans, please don't dis. Sorry...70s mantra, and popular bumper sticker, "Disco Sucks" is correct.


• Teased bangs.


• Acid wash and colored denim.


• Spandau Ballet.


• Perms.


• Fanny packs.


• "Baby on Board" signs on cars.


• Reality television. (still sucking.)

I Can't Believe I Wore That (Just me personally. You're welcome for the visuals.)

• Bananna yellow bell bottoms...in 4th grade.


• Moccassins. 3rd through 5th grade exclusively.


• Pink Izod.


• Black tutu with ruffled bicycle shorts, lime green polka dot rubber bra, ruffled socks with pumps, and suspenders on backwards. (yes, I did.)


• Black goth wig, powdered white face, red lips.


• Cut off shorts, fishnets, red cowboy boots, Blizzard of Oz concert T-shirt. (rocked it!)


• Silver lame trench coat, pink bobbed wig, purple feather boa, feather eyelashes.


• RHCP concert T-shirt. There is a story here. It's not just bad taste. It's embarassing. Please ask me about it.

I Can't Believe He/She Wore That (OK, this list might be awesome as well as frightful)

• Boy George: Everything


• Wendy O Williams: Duct tape and whipped cream bikini. (young people, Google it. Mom, don't Google it.)


• Madonna: Pointy bra, crucifix, wedding dress.


• JLo: See through dress


• KD Lang: Menswear. Rockin it.


• Solid Gold Dancers: Thongs on TV!!


• Prince: Everything (mostly awesome.)

What Were We Thinking?

• Tye dye.


• Woodstock. Sucked. Sorry, it really did.


• Devo. No, they were cool, but looking back? No.


• Mullets. All bad. All the time.


• Neon rubber bracelets. To quote my guru Clinton Kelley, "Hide the cheap."


• The Simpsons. Longest running TV show. Seriously?


• Grunge. Don't get me started.


• Andrew Dice Clay. Not funny.

That Was Awesome, We Should Bring It Back!

• Leg Warmers. Good.


• Hard core punk.


• French braids. (Why do lady cops and girl soccer players get the french braid? Want it back.)


• Foxy. If Justin can bring Sexy back, I can bring Foxy back. Think Farrah, Adrienne Barbeau, Barbie Benton, (Google them, young people! Dang!) Suzanne Sommers.


• Make up on guys. I know this will be controversial, especially among straight guys, but really...was ther ever a musical time when men looked hotter than the 70s and 80s of Marc Bolin (GOOGLE it!!) David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Poison, Cinderella *swoon*, and Motley Crue? No. Everyone looks improved in make up.


• Fondue. Ok, it's sort of back, but good job...fondue is awesome. Thanks 70s.


• Dale Bozzio of Missing Persons and Madonna. Again, it's back already in the form of the formidable Lady Gaga, but good job music buyers. Thank you for the props to the early 80s by loving her. I love her/them too.


• Reganomics. (Couldn't help it.)


• Big hair. In all forms. Come back big hair.


• Fuzzy guitars. Thank you Kings of Leon and Jack White.

Please enjoy my humble opinions and feel free to add in the comments section to my lists! I know I'm only scratching the surface of the rash that is American Pop Culture...

I reapect your opinion. Unless it's dumb....

just Dawn

Contrary to what You May Assume, we Are, in Fact, Alive.

It's been officially two weeks since Dawn and I got back from Sierra Leone, and yes, I realize we've left you longing and desiring and dreaming that we'd get back in touch with our faithful readership because I'm sure there's a desperate void in your pretty little hearts just waiting to be filled. I'm here to tell you.....I can't help you with that. Dawn and I both got right back in to busy life, unfortunately, not to mention the "job" of processing a trip like that. Our heads have been a little foggy (if I'm speaking in terms of our couple of days in London; humid, if I'm referring to Sierra Leone). So, I admit, my post right now is less than entertaining, but I couldn't go another day without letting you know, WE ARE STILL HERE! AND WE STILL LOVE OUR READERS! (But we love those of you who comment just a little bit more. Truth be told. And you did just get told.) Check back with us for a much more lively post. This one feels a little like I just flatlined.

Sticks & Stones May Break my Bones, but Words will Make me Break Yours

If you're anything like me (Michelle), you can get irritated by very miniscule things very easily. (Although, they're not miniscule at the moment of irritation. Am I right? I know. Thank you for your silent agreement.) I'm not proud of this fact and I know it's something I need to work on, but I also think, "Hey, if I just keep all these irritations in my head and concentrate on not verbalizing my annoyance", then very few people are actually hurt. Correct? Again, thank you for your passive agreement.

Today's irritation will be dedicated to Words I Hate. "Wait, Michelle." you may say. "Don't you really love and adore words and the fact that these odd symbols (letters) that at one time didn't mean anything, actually make a structured sentence, thereby creating communication?!" you may also say. To which I would say, "Yes. Yes, I do love those word things and the reading, talking stuff they do."

But, there are certain words that have always grated on me like....any item that just shouldn't go on a grater. In fact, my sister and I used to sit around and tell each other words that gave us the dumb or cheesy chills (probably her idea), and we'd shudder at words like "gown", or "batch." (My sister's hated words of choice.) So, below are a few of my own words that make me want to pull chunks of my (or anyone else's) hair out....

Dollop

Tote (Even worse as "tote bag.")

Plop

Adult, with the "A" being long: Aaaaadult.

Mature (Again, when pronounced "mateur", removing the blessed "ch" sound which brings to my mind a phyiscs teacher with jerry curl hair, polyester pants that are too short, emphasizing the orthopedic shoes, halitosis breath, and casserole cookbooks on her shelves. Which brings me to another...)

Crock Pot

Plush

Ointment

Any sewing terminology

Well, that's a short sampling, only because I have to leave you now. Feel free to add any of your own despised words in the comment section.

"Sexy" Just Died.

I (Michelle) can't believe it either, but there is now a product that officially replaces the Snuggie (TM) as "most embarrassing reflection on American consumers." This item o' shame is called the Hoodie Footie. (Sorry. I'm sure that's trademarked too.) And, worse even than just the idea of such a product, is the infomercial that I was a witness to.

I was minding my own t.v. viewing business while waiting to go see my newest niece who was just born (happy birthday, Anna Grace! You actually would look really cute in a Hoodie Footie.), when I was accosted by this absolutely amazing (and by amazing I mean, so stunningly bad that it actually left me speechless) infomercial.

The ad was made to cleverly point out to the men out there (who might currently be watching the Hallmark channel) that their significant other deserves nothing less for Valentine's Day than a pink, fleece one-piece body suit complete with hood and zip-on matching booties. It showed women just glowing with the joy that unflattering adult onesies bring to us, while espousing the incredible option of being able to "simply remove the zip-on booties" should she get a little too toasty. (In other, non-marketing savvy words, if her feet begin to sweat so much that they get that disgusting, clammy feeling.) And, should the temperature dip, your woman can pull her hoodie up and cozy up for a warm, relaxing night in. Alone. With Chinese food, probably. And the company of Instant Message. Because I don't know what yells louder to "Stay the hell away, eligible males! You're destroyers of souls!" than cheap, pill-y fleece in the shape of an outfit that should only be seen on children under the age of 9.

So, as the women frolicked in their happy-suits, I realized I was so awestruck that I looked like that kid in every elementary school classroom that doesn't know that his jaw is hanging ever so slightly open because he's just so enraptured in whatever has caught his attention. It was just that amazing. (*See: above definition.) The whole train wreck ended with this delightful, candy coated line: "It's a Valentine's Day hug she'll wear!" I think that actually caused a physical reaction of rage in me. I would like to return that warm Valentine's Day hug with a punch to the throat, please.

You know, I've never fallen prey to that jaded and bitter opinion of Valentine's Day. As a kid, I loved it because my mom would basically decorate our house for the holiday with more fanaticism than she'd decorate for Christmas, and she'd even put food coloring in our mashed potatoes to make them pink. (I'm pretty sure that's only because mashed potatoes were the easiest thing to mix food coloring into.) And as an adult, I'm pretty much indifferent to it. I'll even send a card or two. (I know. I'm patting myself on the back right now.) But, if this Hoodie Footie is going to leech onto Valentine's Day and sear my memory with itself, then I'm sad to say, Valentine's Day and I are through.

Just Michelle

My Defense Mechanism: Sarcastic Cynicism (Of Which I have a Heavy Artillery)

Up to this point, I've (Michelle) refrained from writing a post focused on my status as "single." Or, to be more specific (and damning), "Single Christian female." Even though there is a storehouse of sad comedy I could write about regarding singleness & dating while surrounded by non-singles (I work at a church. Enough said.), I prefer to be jaded and cynical in person and with the added benefit of an audible and hyper-sarcastic intonation.

But, I read something today from one of my favorite bloggers (and funny people), Jon Acuff. It's a post from his blog, Stuff Christians Like. For those of you not fortunate enough to have heard of him or read his blog, first, I'm sorry for you. Second, allow me to introduce you! He writes about all those Christian cliches and things the Church is known for...in a funny & clever way that emphasizes his love for the Church and people who try to love and follow Jesus, but sometimes we don't....quite...get it right. In other words, sometimes it's just healthy to laugh at ourselves. Do with that what you will.

Anyway, I'm including the link to his post because it's well worth a read. Plus, he says it a lot funnier than I can. http://www.jonacuff.com/stuffchristianslike/2009/06/550-surviving-church-as-a-single/

I have to say that while reading his post, I was laughing so much that I had what I thought were tears of laughter in the corners of my eyes. Then, I realized that I had experienced (on more than one occasion) about 39 of the 40 "single moments" on his list. Which then led me to realize that, no, Michelle, you aren't laughing so hard that you're crying. I'm pretty sure you're just crying.

I'm hoping that Jon Acuff's post goes viral so that it can be used as an informational tool in order to help people filter through the sieve in their brains the things they're tempted to say to singles. Sure, I can acknowledge that most of it is with lovely and good intentions, and I realize there's no clear cut answer as to how to handle us delicate little singles, but since my momma raised me right and I know better than to do one of those bourgeois slaps to the face with my white glove, I thought I'd take to the page, so to speak.

So, with the help of Jon Acuff's list of "How to Survive Church as a Single", I'm able to kill two birds (and they're probably a couple of damn turtledoves) with one stone, by passing on some good tips, while doing a little juvenile venting. For my own sake. Thank you very much.

And now, next on my to-do list, I'm going to go "stop looking for love" because "that's when I'll find it." Then, I think I'll buy a lottery ticket because with that logic, I'm SURE to win some cold hard cash! I always come into the most money when I refuse to do anything to actually attain it.

Just Michelle

Ah, Lake Forest....My Hometown

Dear Mission Viejo,
I miss you so much. I long for your bright, clean neighborhoods, your pretty, open parks, your flowers. And though we are but one city away, Lake Forest does not compare to you. I'll be back one day, Mission Viejo, unless of course, Lake Forest sucks the life out of me first.

Top Ten Reasons I Hate Lake Forest

10. It's dark. Ok, so I live in a "charming" neighborhood called The Woods. It should be called, All of the Grimm Brothers Fairy Tales Were Written Here. Emphasis on the Grimm.

9. Speaking of Grimm Brothers, my next door neighbor is reminiscent of the Troll from the 3 Billy Goats Gruff story...."Who's that trip trapping on my bridge??!!" (I'm not being extra cruel here, people, she is really mean.)

8. All of my houseplants died, I miss my pretty white rose bushes, and the only things I can put in my yard are ferns. I have grown to love them, but I miss flowers. (Ok, so this is really just an expansion of reason #10.)

7. Every eatery is a "family friendly" yukky chain restaurant.

6. The gigantic eucalyptus trees in my neighborhood are parasitic and have a nasty habit of falling down and crushing roofs and cars. Also, the maintainance on said trees includes regular tree cutting and wood chipping. "Huh? I didn't hear you...my ears were bleeding, and my head was insane from listening to wood chipping machines from dawn till dusk!"

5. Our idiotic City Council has made the news of late for removing a playing apparatus from a local park that had scenes from Noah's Ark on it. They were concerned that some residents would find it "offensive." I'm offended. I will be voting against every one of you in the next election. I will enter "Ruby Maestas" as a write-in candidate over you. She is smarter.

4. Leaf blowers abound. (re: #6.) For the love of all that is holy, can we not invent one that doesn't sound like a freaking 747? and Hey!...City Council! If you're not too busy making sure a bible story doesn't offend a 4 year old, how about a noise ordinance that makes it illegal to fire those noisy bitches up before, oh I don't know, how about 8:00am?!

3. The median age of my neighbors is 87.

2. I have to drive to Mission Viejo to take R and R to the park. The closest park to my house has a big duck pond and is beyond grossly covered in duck and goose crap.

1. El Toro Road and the 5.

Some of you will think I'm being too harsh on Lake Forest. Only I wouldn't be able to hear your reasons because of the busy leaf blowers.....

just Dawn

Inquiring Minds Want to Know..Wrestling Fans

I have purposely avoided talking here about my former career as a professional GLOW wrestler. Mostly just because until recently (the advent of social media) I honestly didn't think about it very much. It was merely a closed chapter in my fascinating life. Also, I don't know anything about wrestling. No, really I don't. I don't know any of the "greats" of the wrestling world, which makes for interesting conversations with my awesome fans. Yep, I have fans. Irony?

I'm going to support some of the stereotypes about wrestling fans here. I'm not gonna lie, they are, largely, an...um....interesting breed. However, stereotypes are never 100% accurate, and due to technology, I have some educated, funny, godly, smart, creative, new friends who just happen to be rabid wrestling fans.
Let's start with the stereotypes. Rednecks? Some. Uneducated meat-heads? Sure. 'Roided-out wannabe jabronis? (a wrestler with no schtick, no costume, and a lame name like "John Evans" going up against a real wrestler like Hulk Hogan or The Rock or Godiva. A jabroni may get in a couple of good moves, or even get in a "near pin" situation, but will ultimately lose. Courtesy of Urban Dictionary.) YES! They are the most interesting.

Top 10 things you'll never hear a wrestling fan say:
10. I can't decide between Stanford and MIT.
9. I'll take Shakespeare for 1,000, Alex.
8. Wrestling's fake.
7. I just couldn't find a thing at Wal-Mart today.
6. Hey, here's a Wrestlemania PPV that I haven't seen!
5. Honey, do you think my gut's too big?
4. I don't have any priors.
3. Nice nose on the Pinot.
2. Picasso really changed modern art, but I feel like Van Gogh was the genius of our lifetime.
1. Checkmate.

Ok, Fans I apologize. That was almost too easy. My favorite fans: Sweet, uber-flattering fan-boy who actually has become a friend. I want to meet him. College student who adores all things GLOW and is the MOST encouraging, sweetest fan ever. Show biz fan who is smart, clever, and funny...should have his own talk show, also reads this blog! BFFs "Sex in the City girls for the new millenium" who are creative, live in NY, fun, funny, and I wish I could hang out with them. (They were little girls when Godiva had huge, glittery hair and an attitude. Ahhh...my protegees!) My numerous friends who have amazing, intelligent questions about their spirituality and faith...I love you guys. Keep 'em coming...you challenge and inspire me. You guys who work hard to support your families, I respect you. My friend with dual initials who has the same (mostly, except for Mariah, gag) taste in music as me. I heart our conversations. Seriously, I love you guys. I kid, I love.

Hey, I KNOW....this has been a learning for me too.

Wrestling fans. Good topic. But when they are real people in your life, or cyber-life, it changes the conversation. At this point in my life, they are more than screaming, cursing (I was a bad- girl wrestler), autograph seeking, uni-entity. They are people, individuals, who grew up with me, or the Godiva facimile of me, in their living rooms. No, Godiva's not me, but as my husband pointed out tonight, she's me more than a little.

Wrestling fans, I love you, I love you not. You know who you are.

just Dawn

2010, It's Been Nice Knowin' Ya

I had trouble deciding what to name this post. I considered, "2010, The Year That Totally Sucked". Too negative. It couldn't have TOTALLY sucked. I just don't look at life like that. How about, "What The Hell did I do To Deserve December, 2010?" No, too martyr-like. How about, "2010, Great Stuff, and Shity Stuff." No, too crude. So I settled on vague and insincere. You know, like when you write in someone's yearbook, "Have a nice Summer" or "Good luck in the future."

So here are the top 10 reasons why 2010 is invited to not let the door hit him in the ass on the way out:

10. It's been monsooning to the point of depression. I'm sure the suicide rate in the rainy states is huge. I get it.
9. BP oil spill. So bad on so many levels. Pollution, animal illness and death, lawsuits, "I-told-you-so attitude from tree hugging left.
8. The world lost J.D. Sallinger, Ronnie James Dio, and the dad from Happy Days. I lost my beautiful friend, Mavis Delgado, and my innocent nephew Caelan Rice. The world is less beautiful without them in it. I'm sure family and friends of J.D., Ronnie, and Tom would agree with me.
7. Economy, economy, economy.
6. Kei$ha, Justin Bieber, Real Housewives of Anywhere, and Cee Lo Green, whose Grammy nominated song F*** You is certainly a new low in popular music. (Yes, Misch and haters, Lady Gaga is intentionally omitted here, due to the fact that she's brilliant.)
5. Larry King retired. HAHAHA! Just kidding! Larry King's ratings have tanked worse than Barak Obama's approval rating. No one cares if you "retire" Larry. Except for possibly your latest gold digging spouse who could not possibly be happy with the prospect of more "quality time" with your old ass.
4. Unemployment, poverty, homelessness in places where we haven't seen it before. There but for the grace of God, go I.
3. California Election 2010: Same old same old. It's embarassing to be a voter in this state. Sigh.
2. Still with us: Rev. Jesse Jackson, Michael Vick, Charles Manson (Probation? REALLY, Charles?), Kanye, Lindsey Lohan, Osama Bin Laden, my mean next door neighbor, Axl Rose (Sweetie, what HAPPENED to you? See also: Brett Michaels, Ozzy Osbourne, Keith Richards.)
1. The rise of those Jersey Shore morons. Please, people, please stop making these white trash goombahs rich.

With this list of suck, I present to you the Top 10 Cool Things About 2010:

10. AIDS/HIV rates in the hardest hit countries are dropping. Sex Trafficking awareness in this country is rising. Environment is repairing itself from the damage of aforementioned spill.
9. Many awesome friends welcomed their first children to the world: Love=Annalise, Shepard, Cash, Karis, Boston. All things made new....
8. My son graduated from High School. Milestone.
7. I adore my job, my pastor, the people I work with, the people I work for. Worth more than money!
6. The Black Keys, Green Day (still TOTALLY relevant), Kings of Leon, Free Energy, and the Judas Priest Reunion Tour.
5. I have heard God's voice, loud and clear, and so did 5 other people in the room with me. Two words: Sierra Leone. (If you don't know this story, ask me. It's amazing.)
4. With great economic hardship comes great opportunity for love and generosity. 2010 has been a year of inspirational stories.
3. Rex and Ruby's goofy antics.
2. Still with us: Paul McCartney (Beatles on iTunes! Woo!), Betty White, Steven Tyler (ok, I know, the American Idol thing...it's sure to be bad, but I LOVE him!), Slash, Bon Jovi, Mickey Rourke, Sesame Street, and pro wrestling! (HAD to!)
1. It's over. The decade has closed with health, love, friends, my awesome husband, growing up boys/young men, and God's mercies...new and revived each day. Welcome 2011. We will get along just fine.

At the risk of ending on a negative, Yeah, you BETTER leave 2010....I will shank you.

Battered, but not broken,
just Dawn