never fully-clothed or intentionally misinforming

I love this man. Most days his opinion is dead on with mine. Most days. This time is no different. And because of that, I don't really have much to add. I wonder if everyone dares follow the links in blogs these days. I do. But I'm a baller. Some people won't click a link no matter the reason. In case you're considering NOT opening the link, here's a blurb from the Cafferty's column: " What do you suppose the total price tag is for this failed war on drugs? One senior Harvard economist estimates we spend $44 billion a year fighting the war on drugs. He says if they were legal, governments would realize about $33 billion a year in tax revenue. Net swing of $77 billion. Could we use that money today for something else? You bet your ass we could. Plus the cartels would be out of business. Instantly. Goodbye crime and violence. " Here's the link , I hope you click it.

My all time favorite SNL skit. I search for it every so often and have a hell of a time finding it online. But Cary, my pal over at LOTD found it and posted it today, so I stole it. enjoy. SNL - Suspected Terrorists mit DeNiro - MyVideo

My girliefriend Laura got this idea from her girliefriend Laura. I'm not a Laura, but I feel I'm still allowed to follow suit. Here's a list of things that make me happy. 1. six dollar bottles of Cabernet. 2. friends who offer junk punches, but only when they're deserved. 3. blazing hot showers. 4. Lucy and Blondie. 5. Olive and Charley. 6. and Morty. 7. living in my own house. 8. laying in my comfortable ass bed. seriously, if you were in it, you wouldn't want to get up either. 9. that brief bit of time when you're driving to the beach and you cross the Inter-coastal. That moment when you know the ocean's only a stone's throw away and you'll be there in a blink. That minute, when coupled with the perfect song (a personal preference, of course) is serene. 10. Punk Rock Beach Party Volume 1. 11. The officially discontinued Crisper's Cobb Salad. (and now I recognize a brief moment of silence for the Cobb......) 12. JCFS 13. My friends on SparkPeop

So ... okay. Lemme set the scene for all my beloved readers. I work in a small office, which is fully staffed at five people. I pack a lunch. This means many things: I save myself ten dollars a day; can eat much, much healthier; and always have time for perhaps a midday walk or a nap. Today it was a nap. On some days I do this in the conference room with all the lights off. On really beautiful days, I nap in my car with the windows down and occasionally the door open. Today was a car day. It's probably mid seventies outside right now, with beautifully crisp blue skies, and breezy. AKA it's perfect napping weather. Ever wake up suddenly, in a slight state of panic? It happened to me this morning -- after getting literally 2 hours of sleep, I woke up in a frenzy and was halfway dialing my work number to call in late when I realized I only live 15 minutes away now and could definitely still make it on time (I ended up being 25 minutes early to work, by the way). So ... nap time.

1. So apparently part of the stimulus package is to let me keep a little more of my income. I got paid today and it had appeared I got a raise. We'll say I did, because shit, I'm getting paid more, but really it's no reflection of my own personal job-well-done. 2. Saturday I went to the beach. It was awesome. I hardly went in the water, as that wasn't my plan when I headed that way. I wanted to soak up some sun. (I'm a freakishly white Irish girl and I use half a bottle of sunblock in one visit, but there isn't another feeling in the world that simulates the feeling of soaking up warm, life-giving sun rays on a breezy day at lands' end. 3. My friend and fellow blogger, Laura posted a list of things that made her happy. I think I'm going to do that later today. It'd probably be a good exercise in positivity; although I think I'm retaining a great deal of that through all the shit that went down Saturday night. 4. Sunday I wanted too much. Go see t

I don't typically feed off of the positive reinforcement of my peers. I've never been one who looks to others for approval. I just do what I do and don't ask for much. Now, do I have expectations or needs? Sure. But that doesn't make me selfish or needy. That just means I'm human -- with emotions, and sensitivity. The expectations and needs I do have are simple things -- things any mildly advanced primate could do. Seriously, I don't ask for much. Love me? Care about my feelings? Put in some effort from time to time? By no standards are any of those things too much to ask. But for fuck's sake. I lost ten pounds. TEN fucking POUNDS and there are more perfect strangers happy for me than there are close friends. Susan, my sister, is the ONLY person who's said she's noticed the difference. And even if she's lying (and I'm not saying she is), at least she's fucking encouraging me. I've been trying so damn hard to lose weight, to maintain a

And we rock, Because it's us against them. We found our own reasons to sing, And it's so much less confusing when lines are drawn like that, When people are either consumers or revolutionaries, Enemies or friends hanging on the fringes Of the cogs in the system. It's just about knowing where everyone stands. All of a sudden, People start talking 'bout guns, Talking like they're going to war, 'Cause they found something to die for, Start taking back what they stole- sure beats every other option, But does it make a difference how we get it? Well do you really fucking get it? No, no, no, no, No, no, no, no.... I bought my ticket today. I'm going to Against Me!'s show in Gainesville on April 11th. It's a Saturday, where else would I have to be? And I decided I was going with little concern for what's happening with anyone around me because . . . well, shit. I was selfish. But I missed their Gainesville show last year and I'll be damned if that&#

Today, immediately following work, I took Olive to the vet. One hundred fifty five dollars later (which will go unnoticed thanks to my tax return!), he's fine. For half the afternoon I worried myself sick thinking something serious may be wrong. See, I recently moved into a big house with my best friend. We have a small, domestic zoo of pets -- most of which are mine, and all of which I consider my children (I'm 24, unmarried, and hopelessly devoted to the unconditional love of animals, so sue me). Some time last year, Angela adopted one from a family here in town. For the first few weeks of owning him (name: Wednesday), I reminded her about taking him to the vet, but eventually even I forgot. Fast forward through us moving in together. I wake up one morning and notice Olive is quite clearly losing the delicate fur around his eyes, lips, and the brim of his precious, button nose. I start to worry. Stress? Rough housing with Wednesday (whom he treats like his baby)? Some kind o

how about this? Does it get the wow factor, honey? ... I wrote it. And I love you pieces. I wanted to say smithereens because they're smaller than pieces and thus would imply my love was more powerful, but the term 'smithereens' carries such a negative connotation. Anyway, you get my point... my love is like whoa.

Jon-Michael took me to a Phillies Spring Training game on Saturday. This photo is he and I at the ball park after the Seventh Inning Stretch. J.M.'s holding our blanket under his arm. We sat on the berm off left field. And were right next to the bull pen where all those studly major leaguers were throwing practice pitches. (and signing autographs for adorable little leaguers with sharpies.) It was a first for me. And a thoroughly enjoyable one. I met J.M. at his house around 9:30 and we left for the park shortly after a quick, home-made breakfast. In the truck I applied about a half a bottle of sunblock to my arms and legs. And when we arrived at the park, I applied more to my face and hands. I don't like the oily feeling of it on my face, so I hold off putting it on as long as possible. And thankfully, despite sitting in the direct afternoon sun for several hours, not an inch of my skin was crisp, tender, or red. We took a stroll around the park before we left and I got some

I wrote someone off once. I was young; he was my heart’s first pain. I wrote him out of my life’s story. He grew up, joined the military, and about once a year for the next several, attempted to reach me. In August of 2005, I met the man I now know I’ll marry. He was older, well-spoken, intelligent, and seemed to have zero unreasonable negativity. My life became complete when he came into it. And with the inexplicable amount of happiness flourishing in my life now, I had no room, nor desire, to harbor hatred. Jon-Michael opened a window for me – he let the light in. When I realized I was in love with him, I realized all that time I thought I’d been heartbroken, I was really just bitter because Tommy had moved on. In October of 2005 he tried to reach me again, this time I let him tell me his story. He had messed up. He ruined things with me all those years ago, and for all the years in between struggled to find a way to fix it. The more time went on, the worse time he had of contacting

I haven't really officially informed people to no longer try calling the 5307 number to reach me. However, I guess it's catching on. I went to bed around 11 on Tuesday night and, with my phone on silent, I missed two calls --- one minute apart --- from this phone number: 352-821-2317. Then, this is my favorite part, at 4 AM today, I missed a phone call from this phone number: 352-317-9445. Who are you people? ** I got a text from the number that called me at 4AM that said: "wh0 da hell y0u is I get money ho'" I called her, she answered and when she heard my voice say "hello," she hung up. So I called her right back and got her voice mail, naturally. And I left her a message ripping her the nicest new one I could. "Right, I didn't complain when you called my number at FOUR this morning. I didn't even try calling you back at a ridiculous hour as retaliation. I just let it go. But when you text me something as ridiculous as what you just sent,

Went home last night from work, relaxed, and then went up to Gainesville to hit Monday Night Karaoke with Susan. I walked up to the Porch and handed the girlie my ID, and instantly -- and this is why I miss Gainesville -- hear someone blurt out, "ALISON!!" "Ahhhhhh. It's good to be back," I thought. But I swear, karaoke doesn't want me to experience it this year. The first time I trekked to G-Rock for it, my friend got food poisoning and we called it a night before anyone sang. And this, the second time, there was no karaoke -- and subsequently, no free beer -- because it was spring break for all the UFers. But what there was, however, was a free concert, so Susan met me there and we watched for awhile. And the band, luckily enough, was Gaslight Anthem. And they're damn good live. I would have bought their stuff had I been prepared with a cash flow (recall, I came up for a free night of fun). And to top it all off, while I was standing talking to a handf

I cannot believe we threw our very first party at my house and NO ONE, not even myself, thought to take any freaking pictures. What the hell?! What party, you ask? Once upon a time, Angela and I needed help moving all our shit into our new house and nine people -- count 'em NINE, stepped up to the plate. It was an overwhelming response to an otherwise meek plea for help in this endeavor. And we so greatly appreciated it, there wasn't any other legitimate expression of our gratitude than to throw a party and invite only those people back over. So we did. And we had a blast. And everyone loved the house. And it was an all-around excellent time. And no pictures were taken. Not one single picture. It just seems strange to me. How did that happen? Anyway. Continued gratitude goes out to the nine people (Mom and Dad, Susan, Jon-Michael baby, Carol, Perry, Karen, Cody, and Hollie) who helped us move. I've never experienced such a large group effort go so well. I love you all.

Projects for the house. 1. varnish the top of the table. 2. paint the laundry room. 3. paint the miscellaneous room. 4. situate my work space upstairs. 5. decorate the walls upstairs and in the stairwell Things I need to do in other aspects of my life. 1. get a gym routine down pat. 2. wash my car, finally. 3. sweep out the dog kennel, ensure it's security, put L&B in it, see how they do. 4. find a bedspread I'm actually 100 % pleased with. 5. find a spot for my television for the time being. 6. pick up the litter around our yard. 7. get groceries for our family appreciation BBQ on Sunday. 8. give myself a very basic manicure. 9. snuggle up on the couch in my living room, watch a movie, and drink some cocoa with my lion slippers on. 10. scrapbook some stuff that's very important to me. I think living in town is going to be pretty awesome. I miss my parents, though. I know that's normal. But I do miss them. It's sort of strange for me. When they're traveling,

Traveling. Thanks to Leslie, I'm itching for it. I keep looking at her pictures (she's spending time in Hawaii right now and living it up) and I'm thinking, holy crap I need to be some place other than Ocala right now. But I can't. It's not feasible yet. I literally just moved into a new place. My housemate and I are still living out of boxes. But I'm itching to travel. Itching for some kind of new experience. Does moving into my very first "own place" not count as a new experience? Why am I not satisfied? The good news is Jon-Michael is taking me to a Phillies spring training game in Clearwater this month. That'll be a new experience -- and one I'm quite thrilled about having. I'm giddy over the idea that he and I will be laying (or sitting) on a blanket in the outfield (maybe with a bag full of snacks and drinks) watching the Phillies play in the beautiful Florida sun. I just hope it's warm that day. About a week ago I mentioned to Jo