It's That Flossy Flossy Life

My regular hygenist Andrea is out on medical leave for like six months so my dentist appointment this afternoon was all kinds of weird. 

First I had to tell Chrissy the truth about my tooths - hell no, I don't floss. Obviously.  Andrea never asked me that kind of professional nonsense. Instead, she baked me Hello Kitty cupcakes and we talked between my spits about her feline population at home. Chrissy asked me, "Do you drink coffee?" and I immediately got all defensive about my stained brown teeth.  Look, lady, I just spent five grand for 20/20 vision with my Lasik eye surgery, this gal ain't got no time for fancy pearly whitening. I'll drink my coffee through carnival-striped straws, than you very much. She then asked me if I use mouthwash. Sigh. Chrissy, I already told you I had Mexican for lunch and like practically did your job for you by eating lots of gum on the way here. I got lots of the carnitas out of the crevices because I have the proof in a tissue in my car, OK?  Stop interrogating me with your health questions.

Don't get me wrong.  Chrissy was a sweetheart, but the whole time I felt like I was cheating on Andrea.  Andrea gets me.  She knows Halloween is my sticky ooey gooey time of the year.  She knows I take the lazy way out and use one of those water flossers 'cause I'm too damned lazy to floss and she certainly never asked me if I used mouthwash. What grown adult doesn't use mouthwash?  Even my dentist gave me the old nod to Pomegranate season when she stopped in to check out my mouth.

I supposed I would suspect Chrissy of being a bad dental hygienist if she didn't give me the whole roadshow treatment about taking care of my precious choppers. But I was disappointed in the one dental treatment that I consistently give myself every single morning that she NEVER asked about - I use a tongue scraper.  Doesn't that count for anything?  I noticed she didn't mention how fine my tongue was looking.  You should see the bodily yuckiness that I scrape off of my tongue every morning.  It's DISGUSTING and yet very fascinating all at the same time.  Sometimes I scrape my tongue so hard that I make myself gag.  (Note to self: I should post to the ladies about using tongue scrapers on a sub-Reddit bulimia board). Some mornings I drag down purple goop off my tongue and wonder exactly what I ate the night before?  Grape popsicle? Grape Jelly with my Peanut Butter Sandwich? Grape Skittles? Yea, most likely grape Skittles.

It's just a weird thing breaking in a new dental hygienist.  I mean, she seemed to like me and we did laugh a lot.  She told me about her love of animals and how she carried her pregnancy weight.  We had some moments of shared understanding like when she appreciates her 17-year-old son's bright smile and how she applauded me for getting my dog's teeth professionally cleaned because it's just so important. Chrissy passed the tooth test. She cared more about my teeth than I did, for goodness sakes.

She made me feel guilty enough to consider flossing with actual string vs. a burst of water.  I'll reconsider which mouthwash I buy, but somehow I don't see me sipping my java through a straw.  But she genuinely seemed to care about my oral health and was very nice by letting me into the sticker room so I could pick out a couple "Best Patient" Mickey Mouse stickers for my scrapbook.

After I left, I got out to my car and texted Andrea to tell her how much I missed her and that I felt like I had just cheated on her with Chrissy.  What better time to come clean than at the dentist's office?

The 20/20 Experience

Shout out to Justin Timberlake for my Blog Post Title.  Sorry folks, I couldn't resist.

But I have 20/20 distance vision after my PRK eye surgery on September 28th.

Bionic eyes.

Let's play some Johnny Nash, shall we? It was one of my mother's favorite songs and now it's just a little bit extra special for me.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,

I can see all obstacles in my way

Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind

It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)

Sun-Shiny day. 

If my mom was still alive, she would have scared the hell out of me and I probably wouldn't have gotten this surgery. It's a funny thing once you don't have a mom or dad around to worry about you no matter how old you are.  I miss them every day in all kinds of different ways but being able to make such a big decision without my mother's fear and anxiety clouding my judgment was a good thing when I got this idea in my head that I wanted to not have to wear glasses 24/7. She would have told me to leave my eyes alone and scared me silly that I could go blind if I went 'under the knife' because she was a very fearful person by nature.

I think my dad would have been worried that it would all work out well, but he would have supported me having this eye surgery.  He was always a half-glass-full kind of guy and my mom's glass was always empty. I don't know where that lands me in the mix, but I'd like to think my glass is 3/4 full and I'm cautiously optimistic on most days. 

So I did the surgery and I can see clearly now.  

People have been asking me what it's like since the surgery. Well,  I never expected to feel air across my eyes as I'm walking around during the day and my muscle memory always has me reaching up to adjust my glasses that aren't on my face.  I don't reach for my glasses on my nightstand upon waking up in the morning and it's really weird not carrying around glasses on my face.  It's like everything is opposite now.  I have magnifier reading glasses in all the rooms of our house and two pairs in my purse. Some days I can see just fine without my readers on while looking at the computer.  I'm constantly lubricating my eyeballs and the cool bath feels pretty good when I'm done.  My jean pockets hold vials of lubricating eye drops and I'm trying to develop the habit of always having them with me so my eyes don't get dry.  Plus I'm told extra moisture helps with the overall healing.

My eye doctor appointment yesterday confirmed 20/20 vision.  I went out into my car after the appointment and just cried out of relief and sheer happiness. It wasn't an ugly cry, but more of a light smattering of my own body-manufactured lubricating tears dribbling down my cheeks. It was one of those countless moments since my parents died that I wanted to be able to talk to them to let them know everything worked out for me.  But instead I'm telling you and that's enough.

Eyes of the Tiger - My PRK Surgery

On September 28, 2017, I had PRK laser eye surgery at TLC Laser Eye Center in Waltham, MA. This picture of Cartman from South Park totally represents how I was feeling before my surgery.  Can you see that freaked out concerned look in his dilated pupils? That was me wondering if I was making a really big mistake messing with my eyes or if I was doing a really positive thing for my future self. And no, I didn't use a Groupon to make such a big decision, but there was a $1k TLC discount that swayed my decision to do the surgery this year vs. next.

I visited TLC for an initial free consultation to determine if I would be a good candidate for Lasik eye surgery.  I filled out their paperwork in the waiting room on a Saturday morning wondering how I would answer the question 'Why do you want to get eye surgery?'

My answer was simply that I was entirely tired of cleaning my glasses every five minutes with all the mysterious smutz that somehow gravitated toward my lenses during my every waking hour. I just must love touching my face a lot because I could never keep those glasses clean. I was fed up with buying moist wipes and having them be too moist which consistently left smears on my glasses that dried in weird patterns and never left me feeling like I had a clear view of the world through my glasses.

After going through many comprehensive tests, I learned that I had thin corneas which were probably a result of a lifelong habit of rubbing at my (dry) eyes using my knuckles. My dry eyes were most likely related to the long-term computer use over the years. While Lasik surgery involved cutting some sort of flap in my eyeball to correct my distance vision, my thin corneas increased the chances of that flap collapsing and causing vision complications. I didn't pay too much attention to the details of what I couldn't do but perked up when I learned that a safer surgery that I could qualify for was Photorefractive Keratectomy (aka PRK) which is a type of surgery where the surface of the cornea is reshaped using an excimer laser. The recovery time is much longer than Lasik which meant that I'd have to be out of work for 5-7 days and ultimately my distance vision could take up to one year to fully recover. 

Since I don't know if you're squeamish about eyeball stuff, I won't go into the details of what they did to reshape them, but know this - I didn't turn out boss-eyed and my surgery was a success. I was the perfect patient following all the instructions, went to visit my eye doctor every day to monitor my progressive healing and created a complicated spreadsheet to keep track of three different eye drops that were needed every day.

It's been 10 days since the surgery and I'm doing really well. My last eye doctor appointment showed that my distance was 20/25 which is freaking amazing considering how poorly I could see without my glasses before the surgery.

Here are just some of the positive changes in my life as a result of choosing to do this surgery:

• Watching TV without glasses
• Walking around the house and moving about the world without glasses
• Driving without glasses
• Stepping into the rain and not having my glasses get wet or fogged up
• Not reaching for my glasses upon waking up
• Being able to wear brightly decorated magnifying glasses for reading and PC work

There aren't really many troublesome downsides.  Sure, I still need to wear glasses for reading. I have to put lubricating eye drops in my eyes every hour and I'm down to one prescription eye drop three times a day which will most likely continue for a couple of months.  I'll have to buy a pair of expensive polarized sunglasses from either Ray-Ban or Maui Jim to replace my $19.99 pair that I bought from Walgreens right after my surgery. It's probably not a good idea to go crazy with the mascara because I shouldn't be rubbing my eyelids to remove unnecessary cosmetics, but I'll figure all that out with time.

I've worn glasses since I was 18 years old and have never thought that I looked attractive in them. In recent months, I discovered a discounted online site called Zenni Optical where I've purchased quite a few pairs of prescription glasses that didn't look half bad on me and were highly affordable compared to my eye doctor's office.  Who knew I'd love those cat eye frames so much?  But now that I'm presenting myself to the world sans lenses, I feel like my round fat face has gotten more pronounced and I'm self-conscious about it which just means that's the next big step to tackle.  

I know eventually, I'll get used to looking at myself in the mirror without glasses each day. It's going to take some time to truly become comfortable with myself.  So far, I  have zero regrets getting the PRK surgery and I'm glad that I didn't let my fear and anxiety prevent me from improving my life.  This was a good decision.

10 Oz of Coffee

10 oz. Ruination 

You simply wouldn't believe what 10 ounces of coffee has cost me this week.

Now this picture over here isn't an actual representation of the tumbler of coffee that wrecked my digital life this week.  But rather it's simply a then taken photograph of one of my favorite Hedgehog coffee mugs and some strong ass coffee that I like to occasionally enjoy when I need my coffee to have weird stuff in it like Chicory and Kahlua.  But I digress...

This past Tuesday morning I decided to forgo spending $1.75 for a large cup of work coffee and instead decided to make 10 oz of coffee using my trusty Keurig K-Cup machine and a cheap ass plastic tumbler with my company branded logo emblazoned on it.

I knew it wasn't air tight. Yes, I have an Amaon.com highly consumer rated Contigo coffee tumbler like every other modern professional commuter. And yet, and yet I used the cheap ass Corporate Branded coffee tumbler that had done me wrong before anyway.  I am a terribly stupid woman.

I will never know what possessed me to put the tumbler of coffee in my Dooney & Bourke designer purse before heading into Corporate.  I was carrying too much crap, maybe? My laptop bag is hideously bright, large, heavy and awkward to tote around.  It goes without saying that my purse must be it's twin in size and girth featuring trendy Springtime bright yellow poppies to hold all my other non-business related stuff that my laptop does not contain.

Incidentally, the thought has crossed my mind that maybe I have too much stuff that I carry around with me. Do I just want to be that prepared in all social situations?  (Side note: I love reading my RSS feeds that feature segments called, "What's In My Bag?" because it's interesting to see the things founders of Reddit or Google carry around in their messenger bags. I desire to know what's in their bags that they carry around with them throughout the day because these are the smart people I need to learn from in order to be a more productive person.)

I elevatored up to the fifth floor, put my purse down on my desk and heard...SLOSHING.

[Definition of Sloshing: (of liquid in a container) moving irregularly with a splashing sound.]

Peering inside my purse to find my coffee container had become horizontal wasn't shocking - it was full-on horrific.  Everything and I mean every little thing was  floating and soaked.

Let's take an inventory of ruin, shall we?

• Kindle PaperWhite
• Kindle Fire Tablet just recently purchased on Amazon Prime Day simply because it was yellow
• iPhone 6S Plus that I just paid off two days before and also cancelled the insurance 
• My beloved Luvcat designer wallet
• A plastic tube of alcohol hand-sanitizer from Brigham & Women's Hospital that had exploded from the heat of the coffee
• A copy of my home insurance because my mortgage had recently been sold and I had to deal with some crap about making sure I had enough fire insurance coverage.
• The black pleather As Seen On TV wallet that held 24 sleeves of alphabetically-organized gift cards, business cards, list of RX medications, etc.
• My trusty portable charger for my iPhone that had, of course, been fully charged

Did I mention that the red fabric liner of my Dooney & Bourke purse was soaked with all the liquid rolling back and forth?

And what did a supposed tech-savvy lady such as myself do when I pulled out my iPhone and wiped it off with my desk tissues?  I plugged it into the charger on my desk and tried to turn it on. The exact 100% opposite thing you're absolutely not supposed to do when you get your iPhone wet. 

Fortunately, my boss brought over some paper towels to help out with the situation and the first thing I did was berate him for giving me choose-a-sheet paper towels.  WTF, man?  I used them anyways along with all the desk tissues and still there was sloshing that needed to be dealt with post-haste.

I just returned to my purse and tried to decide how to dump out all of that coffee in a way that didn't mess up my desk too much. I emptied my purse of all it's treasures and carefully walked to the ladies room to dump out the coffee in the sink all the while trying not to make eye contact with anyone because I was nearly in tears.

  Here are some of my thoughts as I walked back to my desk:

• Can you dry clean a Dooney & Bourke purse? Should I even waste my money? The outside of the purse was vinyl so at least that wasn't ruined.  Maybe just stick an air freshener in it and keep the spill a secret.
• What about my phone?  It's not going to turn on.  Damn it.
• Did I fry my Kindle(s)?  Why did I have to be carrying two Kindles in my purse?  What is freaking wrong with me?

When one experiences that much pain and personal stupidity, my first reaction is to lament and tell everyone within hearing distance of my personal tragedy.

"Did you try putting your phone in Rice?"

"Go down to the cafeteria and see if they will give you some rice."

Of course I didn't do either of those things. Instead I sat glumly at my desk and kept pressing the power button on my now paid-off iPhone 6S Plus without the insurance protection and hoped the technology gods would take pity on me and by some miracle my iPhone would dry out and turn back on.

But it never did.

To be continued...

Kismet at the Dentist's Office

Today I had to make an emergency trip to my dentist because I feared my newly installed crown had become infected.  The dentist that had done my crown wasn't available, but the office was able to fit me in with the head honcho for a 3pm appointment.

The assistant explained that she'd be taking a few X-rays so he could review the pictures to determine what was causing my pain.  As I was sitting in the chair after the X-rays were completed, I was listening to the radio and relaxing to the song 'Yellow' by Coldplay.  As the assistant wasn't very talkative, I decided to fill the silence with the this remark:

"Y'know, I always loved this song, but I have no idea what the hell it's supposed to be about."

Immediately a deep voiced man from behind me responded that he completely agreed with me, but wasn't it a a good song?  As he appeared in my line of sight, I was face to face with the head honcho. He didn't take the time to introduce himself at all, but rather got right into his speculation about what he perceived the song was supposed to be about.  I countered with, "I don't know about that, but it just reminds me of meandering on a beach somewhere pondering life and feeling sad."

His eyes widened in mutual  recognition and he exclaimed, "Right? No shit!"

And that was how I met my new dentist.

Our conversation bounced back and forth until we eventually lighted upon the interesting fact that he cheated on his religious exam while a student at Boston University.  I applauded his choice of deception in the one class where ethics might have played a pivotal role and I swear he would have high-fived me had he not been holding the needle containing the Novocaine. Again, our conversation continued about the exam he was cheating on and he asked me if I knew how Buddha was conceived from Queen Maya?  Ummm, no clue.  Obviously.  He explained that the woman was in a garden and was sat upon by an elephant with many seeds and that's how she became pregnant.  'Course I'm paraphrasing here, but all I was thinking about was the logistics of sex with an elephant.  I'm sorry, but that's just where my mind goes. Only later did I learn that the queen had a dream about a six-tusked white elephant coming to find her and then she was pregnant. Regardless, she got knocked up by an elephant and that's what's most interesting about how Buddha came to be.  As Mr. Head Honcho was a Catholic, he still thought the Immaculate Conception was pretty tame compared to the elephant and I would whole-hardheartedly agree with him.

Our chat continued....

and somehow we started talking about the Occult.  I recalled to him that in the 80's, I was a big fan of Hall & Oates and  I had somehow learned that Daryl Hall liked to read Occult books (maybe from TigerBeat?) so I started to take books out at the library to learn about it, too.  I said to him, 'Did you know that I named my two Guinea Pigs after Occult figures Alistair and Lilith?"  This time I didn't get a 'No Shit' out of him, but clearly he was enjoying our conversation because he still hadn't put the needle into my gums.

But eventually we had to get down to business and he began the work of pulling out the stray cement that was causing my inflamed gums all the trouble.  At times he was pushing so hard into my gums that I all I could think about is if he made one small slip, I'd have a very pointy sharp instrument impaled up into the roof of my mouth and lodged into my nasal cavity.  That would not have been good.  So after he was done, I told him of my fears and made sure to compliment him on his deft hand skills.  He thanked me and quickly said that even if he stabbed me through the roof of my mouth, he did have insurance and readily knew the billing code for an impalement.

I mean, how could I not love this guy?

Mr. Head Honcho had a great sense of humor and an easy yet confident manner while he poked and prodded my gums this afternoon. The cement caused an infection, but not an abyss tooth which was music to my ears.   He deftly removed the debris and provided me with a medicated rinse to help with the infection and sent me on my way with no charge for the office visit.

It's a special thing when you meet someone and instantly strike a rapport with them.  I suspect the feeling isn't always reciprocated, but for me it's like my brain lights up.  It reminds me that there are people out there waiting to be discovered and sometimes those encounters happen in the most unusual ways.

Today it started with ColdPlay and ended with a goddess getting knocked up in a sex dream with a white elephant.  What a day.

The Long Goodbye

Yesterday we had to say good-bye to our beagle Minnie. Making the hateful decision to put her to sleep was one of the hardest things we've ever had to commit to-how do you knowingly go about making arrangements to end the life of the thing you love most in this world?

First let me take a step back to tell you that we nearly lost her back on February 13th of last year.  In the middle of the night, we rushed her to Tufts after she collapsed and couldn't breathe. She was diagnosed with Chronic Valvular Disease & Congestive Heart Failure. Her cardiology team couldn't tell us how long she would live, but we were given the vague expectation that it could be anywhere from one to six months depending on how well we could control her symptoms with heart medications.

Ever since last February, we've been living on borrowed time with Minnie. It's been a long year of increasingly sleepless nights and constant worry. Living with a dog who has CHF means listening to persistent coughing, monitoring breaths per minute, maintaining a low-sodium diet and keeping up with ever-changing heart medications.

It's been a delicate dance to keep her as happy and healthy as possible this past year. She continued to enjoy her long walks with Spencer and still eagerly ran to the kitchen every time she heard the refrigerator door open or the turn of the electric can opener. She enjoyed Winter one last time rolling in freshly fallen snow and taking long lazy naps in all her favorite spots of our house. She was happy and content despite her failing heart. We helped her have a good quality of life this past year.  We never gave up on her.

But recently she began fainting as a result of her coughing and seeing her wake-up after a fainting spell struggling to breathe and not knowing if she would recover was unimaginably painful and we just couldn't put her through it anymore.  We loved her too much and knew it was time to say good-bye.

We let her go yesterday - nearly a year to the day when we first discovered her condition - our most loved 11-year old girl.

We were with her till the last beat of her broken heart.

Dear John: A Duran Duran Fan Letter

The above Duran Duran fan letter could have been written by me with one exception - I would have started off my epic fan letter with Dear Simon. 

I have been proud to call myself a Duranie since 1982.  I can't recall that exact pivotal moment when I first laid eyes on my Fab Five, but I do have a very distinctive memory of being down in the basement watching their videos on MTV.   I remember that my best vantage point was to sit as close to the TV screen as possible whenever a video came on and I simply could not get enough of Simon LeBon. I was hopelessly devoted and smitten to that blond-haired pop-star and it was a love that spawned such things as fan fiction that I would pass out to my circle of friends, about a thousand poster push-pin holes in my bedroom and early damage to my vocal cords from high-pitch squealing like a stuck pig whenever the band premiered a new video on MTV.

What's a 12-year old girl with raging hormones to do down in the basement all by herself late at night?  Wait. It's not what you think.  Well, OK, maybe it is.  I would watch the unedited full-length Girls On Film video as many times as possible and and pray that my mom didn't come walking downstairs to see what my young, formative mind was watching on cable TV: bare-breasted models engaging in all sorts of suggestively sexy activity with Sumo Wrestlers in a fighter's ring, girl-on-girl action sequences, massages involving copious amounts of squirting oil, a cowgirl riding a horse (who is actually just a hot guy with a horse head strapped to the side of his face), kiddie pools and apparent disco dancing in the center ring.   And while all this is going on, my boys are dancing around on the sidelines wearing head scarfs and make-up.  Talk about confusing.  Are You There, God? It's me, Kim.  And I don't know what the hell I'm feeling down there.

I'm ashamed to say that my love for Duran Duran once made me take advantage of a boy named Michael who really liked me.  He invited me over to his house to hang out in his parent's basement (again with the basement!) and rented a VHS tape of all the early Duran Duran videos.  Talk about teen cat nip.  I knew he had a crush on me and the only reason why we hung out is because he got that video.  I'm not proud of my actions with him, but back then I would have done just about anything to anyone to get my Simon LeBon fix.  (Does that make me a Mean Girl?)

I have snippets of memory visiting my best friend Lisa on The Cape and being totally psyched that I found Duran Duran's first album on cassette as an import.  It had an extended version of Planet Earth and I played it so much I'm surprised I didn't wear out the tape. (Still have it to this day!)  Back then I fantasized about what it was going to be like when I got my driver's license and could drive in my own car while playing Duran Duran cassettes as loud as possible. 

I remember being insanely pissed off at my mom because she wouldn't let me see the band when they came to the Worcester Centrum on their Seven & The Ragged Tiger tour.  She was afraid the place was going to collapse from all the people stomping their feet and banging on the backs of seats.  I think she heard somebody talking about the building's structure on AM radio one day and it freaked her out. Sadly, my mom was an anxious hot mess even back then.

Those were my early years of fandom. I'm proud to tell you that I've never stopped loving them even through their various side projects, break-ups, reunions and pop-star histrionics.  Duran Duran was and still is the soundtrack to my life.

Below is the actual transcription of the above fan letter in case you had trouble reading it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear John,

I have been waiting 2 long, long years to see you in concert. I think Duran Duran are the best and are the most gorgeous. If you are reading this know that you are the most gorgeous guy in the world, and andy is the cutest guy in the world. You both remind me of adorable Cabbage Patch Kids. You are my favorite Duran man and I love you totally. My best friend also loves you totally. I'm writting this 13 days before the concert, I hope that you'll save it. Oh forget it, throw it out. Just that you know I exist and that you accually read this is enough. I love you forever and ever. I was the person who was screaming the loudest that I love you. Tell Andy I love him to.

Love,
Donna
(a faithful fan)

Happy Birthday!!

I didn't forget. I hope you had the best 25th ever. I listen to Z-100 radio, and tomorrow I will be because today is June 19 and I'll celebrate it.

I LOVE YOU!

DURAN DURAN rule+4ever!!!!!!!

1. Duran Duran are the most gorgeous.
2. But John Taylor is the most gorgeous.
3. Andy Taylor is the cutest.
4. Men who look like Cabbage Patch Dolls are a good thing.
5. Number of times she uses the word love: 7
6. Her best friend loves you, too.
7. I love you.

Source: duranduranboard.proboards.com

March Madness

There's a TON of things happening right now in my world related to my girl crush Justin Timberlake.

First he joined Instagram in early February. His first picture was of a shot of the non-existent traffic on the 101 in LA on his way to perform at The Grammy's.

On February 27th I nearly lost my mind because I couldn't pull the trigger on buying super expensive presale tickets to see his tour when it comes to Boston at Fenway Park in August.  At first I got all excited because Ticketmaster returned results that I had scored tickets, but then my brain kicked in and registered the price was $255/ticket and I simply couldn't justify it.  (Get it? Justify. OK.  We're cool. You got it.)  I kept refreshing the screen, tossing those PC cookies and hoping the results would be different, but in the end I even passed on the lesser tickets priced at $134.50/ticket because I wasn't exactly clear where I'd be parking my ass in Fenway during the performance.

On February 28th, the official sale kicked off at 10 am and I tried again. (I was at work and actually delayed a meeting so I could give it another shot) I got 2 tickets for $134.50 in Section 29.  Ticketmaster threw me into that 15 minutes of suspended time of temporarily holding my tickets and I feverishly tried to locate where I'd be sitting in the park. I Google'd a couple sites where people post pictures from their seats so I could see the view and I still couldn't do it.  I actually got up and asked my co-worker Brian to swing by and validate if my seats were any good.  He was in mid-nod and I was just about to buy the tickets when Michelle triumphantly leaped into my cube to exclaim, "Happy Birthday. I just bought us tickets."  At least, I think that's what she said.  It's still sort of hazy.  I think non-exercise related endorphin kicked into my blood stream because I just remember feeling this moment of sheer joy and happiness.  She ended up scoring tickets in Section 26 and later told me she knew I wasn't going to buy them because I was so upset over the cost.

Oh, Justin.  You're such a tease.

Sometimes you just need a friend to put her arm around you and drag your sorry indecisive ass over the fence.  I was so glad she did because now we're going to see Justin Timberlake and the great Hova. 

Things are progressing nicely in the Land of Crush. Tonight he's hosting Saturday Night Live for the 5th time and then next Monday through Friday he's going to be on Jimmy Fallon every single night as the exclusive musical guest.  The best thing about this is I watch Fallon anyways and I was thinking that at least he'll be visiting the show to promote his CD.  But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine he'd be such an unprecedented guest for five consecutive nights.

I'm on vacation the week of March 17th which is perfect because Justin's CD titled The 20/20 Experience is being released on March 19th.  I'll probably be at Target when it opens so I can get the CD with the two exclusive tracks on Tuesday.  Yes, people, this is how I'm spending my vacation.

So with all this excitement going on in the real world, there's still a ton of busy buzz happening online.  Blogs are exploding with all this information because like me, people are just losing their shit that he's back to singing.  Only recently I read a blog where this girl was just so incredibly pissed off about his straightened hair.  She insisted he was using a relaxer to tame his trademark N'Sync curls and didn't have any love for his Rat Pack coiffed hair one bit. I like reading stuff like this because it reminds me that I'm not the only person there that feels so disproportional about Justin Timberlake . These like-minded freaks give me perspective.  

Yesterday I read a really funny post that I had to share with you.  It's from the blog BuzzFeed and it's called The 32 Greatest Justin Timberlake Dance Moves of All Time.   They gathered 32 GIF's of him dancing and then created names for his dance moves to go along with the images.  It's perfectly hilarious. 

Here are just some of my favorites:

• The Look I'm In A Puddle Twirl 
• The Pow Pow Shimmy 
• The Don't Look Now but Madonna Is Behind You Twist
• The Michael Jackson Crotch Thrust
• And the Full On Penis Quake
• The Beyonce Body Sway
• The Full On Shirt Twirl
• The Timberlake Tornado
• The Sass Monster Shoulder Twirl
• The Ultimate Pelvic Plunge

My favorite: The Pow Pow Shimmy

The Timberlake Tornado

Forget the Shamrock Shake coming back for a limited-time only at McDonald's.  March is shaping up to be the best month ever.

Dedicated fans waiting to get inside 30 Rock

Justin Timberlake - Suit & Tie (Official) ft. JAY Z

Directed by David Fincher.

Suit & Tie Lyric Video Review

Now THIS is the way to tease your fans right. 5:27 minutes of pure sexy bliss.

It seems like the new catchy thing to do these days is for an artist to release a lyric video in advance of the official music video for a song. It's like a movie preview only with the words to the song.  Mostly the lyric videos I've watched are like those annoying PowerPoint presentations laden with overly-used animation trickery to keep the audience engaged in a very boring presentation.

Thankfully Justin Timberlake decided not to make a half-assed lyric video for his newly released song Suit & Tie.  Rather my own little Mr. Sexyback put some effort into his officially sanctioned lyric video. It's so good that it should just be the music video.

I've watched it a couple of times now on YouTube and here's my blow by blow:

It starts out with Justin driving around Los Angeles in a classic car wearing a Fedora. (I think it's a rule that guys can't drive a car from the 1960's without wearing head gear, but it's OK because this man can wear the hell out of a hat.) Justin strums his fingers on the steering wheel and is probably pissing off everybody driving behind him 'cause it doesn't look like he's going more than 20 mph. Then it's all about a shave, hair cut and getting dressed up in his suit & tie.  He brushes some presumable dirt off his shoulder with one of those valet brushes and I can't help thinking it's his sly salute to Jay-Z.

The scene shifts to him sitting at a piano smoking a cigarette and tickling the ivy while occasionally standing up to sing into a microphone.  He's finger snapping to sultry Timbaland beats while sporting those sexy nerd glasses and all I can focus on is his wedding band. Oh, right.  He's married now.  Damn.  And just to rub salt in my wounds, there's a brief interlude of him standing with a woman in a satin dress saying something to him to make him laugh & smile as she possessively adjusts his bow tie. Enough Justin.  I get it.  You're taken.

This is a film-noir black & white lyric video, but the only splash of color comes from a glass of scotch Justin is holding as he says, "Get out your seat Hov."  Then Jay-Z is rapping about make-up sex,Tom Ford Tuxedos, Ass Tight denim, Las Vegas and being an excellent son-in-law.  (Granted, that last thing is a guess on my part.)

The night is nearing the end as Justin does sexy bad boy things like smoke cigars, drink martinis and gamble. Phew!  He's getting tired because he starts to lean on stuff like his microphone and then his car. He even does this cute little ankle dance before he gets into the car and starts driving off into the night.

But there's just one more brilliant thing he does before his official lyric video for Suit & Tie closes.

He's standing there watching you read what he's written on a piece of glass with a black Sharpie: The 20/20 Experience Coming

And then WHAM!  He smashes through the words with a freaking hammer and starts walking away as the shards of glass shatter and begin falling down.

The End.

Does anyone have a cigarette?

Happy Birthday to ME!!

Tummy Talk: An Epic Drum Solo

Rough Edges

Like everyone else on the planet today, I've been thinking about all the things I want to do differently in 2013. I've got a laundry list of things that I could tell you about myself that I'd like to focus on improving in the New Year, but some of them are too intimate and I don't really feel like sharing them in case I don't do so good.

But then today I got this letter mailed to me from my friend Jillian.  She attached this Post-It note to a couple of Pom Wonderful pomegranate coupons:

I peeled back the note and checked out the coupons it was attached to and just laughed my ass off. Talk about someone knowing you so well! Of course I was itching to immediately grab my scissors and start neatly trimming around the edges so I could tighten that shit up. In fact, one of the coupons she sent was so badly ripped that the tear went right through the little section where you can see the expiration date of the coupon.  C'Mon!  I was thinking to myself, "How can I even use this at the grocery store? The cashier won't even be able to use it."  And oh how that bothered me.

One of the poorly clipped coupons

But then I paused and thought that getting these coupons couldn't have come at a better time for me because it reminded me that this was one of the things about myself that I wanted to work on in the New Year - my perfectionism which has probably manifested itself into a very mild form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  (Yes, I am compelled to line up my wallet "stripper ones" so that the faces are all pointing in the same direction - don't you?)

It's this perfectionism that has prevented me from writing more because every word has to be placed just so. It's this perfectionism that won't let me start a project unless I know I'll be able to complete it 100% within weird self-imposed strict guidelines or else I've failed. 

I know I'm sitting here writing this and I'm not happy with how I'm getting my point across, but you know what? I need to be OK with it.  I need to console myself and say that at least I'm writing something rather than just thinking of all the things I want to write.  I'm performing an action.

In 2013, one of my resolutions is to embrace the rough edges that come my way and learn to maneuver around them. After all, it's not always about the straight line and sometimes you just can't find those damn scissors.

What She Order..

Kanye and Kim ordering Fish Filet from McDonalds? via Deerpong

Furry Essentials

Joann giving her signature Eskimo kiss!

Our Beagle Minnie's groomer Furry Essentials won the 2012 Best of Worcester Reader Poll  in the pet groomer category!

I'm sad to say that I didn't even know about this poll because I don't actually subscribe to a print newspaper and found out about it on Facebook this afternoon, but I'm psyched for them and they deserve it.

Joann treats Minnie like a princess. Joann loves to get right down onto the floor to greet Minnie when we walk through the door. Minnie's typical response is to get all submissive and roll over onto her side letting that fat round belly of hers hang all out in all its glory.  After much cooing and fussing, we chat for a while and I always know I'm leaving Minnie in excellent hands.

We've been taking Minnie to Furry Essentials for over five years. At first it was Joann and June, our dynamic duo.  But then June moved down South and Joann's daughter-in-law Michelle starting working there and I loved her instantly.  We became Facebook friends and she was introduced to my love of Hello Kitty.  She started texting me  pictures of Hello Kitty stuff she'd see in stores which eventually morphed into buying me little Hello Kitty presents.  Now every appointment begins with her busting out some amazing little toy or trinket to give to me.    Sometimes she'll text me a picture she's taken of Minnie in a doggie dress which cracks me up because Minnie is SO not that kind of dog, but she endures it with her usual Zen-like calmness knowing this too shall pass.

When it's time to pick Minnie up, Joann also has this nice little touch that she does with the invoice that I really love:  she attaches a little personalized note telling me how Minnie behaved during her visit.  She'd write things like "I was such a princess" or " Five Paw Star" and I grew to look forward to seeing what phrase she'd come up with next to describe Minnie's very ordinary behavior.  (Trust me, I know I'm lucky that Minnie isn't the sort of dog that would tear things up while in the care of somebody else.  She's more the kind of dog who is content to stay in one spot and nap hard.)

I was so happy for them when they were able to expand their business by moving to their new location. The shop is beautiful and taking Minnie there feels like she's going to Doggy Daycare because she gets to be surrounded with all the other dogs that have their grooming appointments.  I swear they should charge admission just so people can walk into their work area, sit down on the clean floor and be instantly surrounded by 5-10 dogs of various sizes and natures.  It's instant love, adoration and a guaranteed drop in blood pressure.

You should see Minnie when she's with the other doggies and there is a treat to be had.  She definitely embraces that whole 'survival of the fittest' mentality and will do just about anything to wiggle her way closest to Joann's hand to be in first place for a Scooby snack. She doesn't believe in missed opportunities and she's got the grand belly to show for it.

If you're looking for a groomer that will treat your dog like it's their own, then by all means visit Furry Essentials.  They've been my best kept secret for years.

(If you're interested in the other winners of the 2012 Best of Worcester Reader Poll, you can check them out  here.)