Road Trippin' Rules

I went on a road trip last weekend from Harrisburg, PA to Dallas, TX...1,438 miles, for anyone interested. Now, because this was a bit of a last-minute trip, I did not adhere to the Road Trippin' Rules. Forgivable in this case, but if you're planning your own excursion, try to adhere to these tips for maximum funnage.

1. Road snacks are a necessary item. Preferred foods are Combos (pizza-flavored) and M&Ms (peanut, unless you're an allergic freak), but it is essential to stick purely to processed foods. Note: Hostess products may be a temptation at the gas station, but stay away. They are not car-friendly. Especially fruit pies.

2. Play car games. "Punch buggy" and the license plate game are two great standbys. I was introduced on this trip to two new games, both of which I lost royally, so I do not recommend those games those games are dumb.

3. Stock your iPod. Tunes are a must on long road trips, and it's best if you create an extra-special road trip mix, including hits like Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again" and Tom Cochrane's "Life is a Highway." Stay away from  "I Can't Drive 55" by Van Halen. Why? Because that song sucks.

4. Roadside attractions like five-legged cows and the biggest ball of string are purely for your entertainment. Fork over the $12 admission, ya tightwad, and check out the prairie dog city.

5. Regarding roadside restrooms: hover.

6. Wear loose clothing. Road bloat is real. Air conditioning + Combos + giving in to the Hostess temptation + McDonald's + busting your lungs to Tom Petty's "Free Falling" = gas.



7. Drive the speed limit, dumb ass. Especially in Virginia. Or anywhere in the southern states if you have New York tags. Have you seen My Cousin Vinny?

8. Stay awake...caffeinate. I am witness to the miraculous effect that seven cups of coffee and two Red Bulls can have.

An Abbreviated Employment (Pre)History

I often get asked about the secret of my success. OK I will never be asked that question. But I've had some awesome fun interesting jobs in my life. Here are a few of them. (Yes, for real, just a few of them.) Laugh it up.

Position: Lifeguard
When: 1994-1997
Job Duties: Working on my tan; Acting too cool for school; Drinking as much free soda as I could possibly drink; Eating as many free microwave pizzas as I could possibly eat; Occasionally scooping a toddler out of the shallows before certain death; Blowing whistles
What I Learned: I really just don't tan well.

Position: Nanny
When: 1998
Job Duties: Going to the pool; Going to amusement parks; Going to the beach; Going to the mall; Going to the movies; Watching TV; Eating a ton of awesome crappy food; Oh yeah, hanging out with two rad kids who needed approximately zero supervision
What I Learned: Being paid to do nothing truly is my ultimate life goal, especially if it also involves unlimited snacks.

Position: Chilihead
When: 1998-2002
Job Duties: Stealing french fries off people's plates; Hiding outside by the dumpster at any mention of the words, "I need birthday singers"; Making up fake drink recipes, coloring them blue or green, serving them to drunk girls and calling them my specialties; Generally hating my life
What I Learned: You cannot, cannot get the smell of fajitas out of one of those polo shirts.



Position: Gadzooks Slave
When: 2001-ish (two weeks)
Job Duties: Selling crappy glittery halter tops to preteens; Climbing two stories on a wobbly ladder to reorganize the storage closet; Being ordered around by a bossy, bitchy 19-year-old store manager
What I Learned: Just leave on your lunch break and never come back. Seriously. Just leave. (Make sure you grab Sbarro on your way out of the mall, of course.)

Position: Flight Attendant
When: 2004-2006
Job Duties: Flying from bar to bar city to city in the US; Pointing my fingers on airplanes; Smiling; Wearing polyester, pantyhose and lipstick
What I Learned: US Weekly and People Magazine are more valuable to a flight attendant than actual cash.

Position: Call Center Rep
When: 2006 (two months)
Job Duties: Selling, selling, selling; Getting death threats from insanely pissed off customers
What I Learned: Never hang up, always be selling, even if the customer tells you to "go sit on something sharp, sweetie." (Yeah, I still don't know what that one meant. I think he was Irish?)

Position: Airline Gate Agent
When: 2006-2008
Job Duties: Hunky-dory flight operations at DFW airport, until not...like snow, or thunderstorms...or I think once a wheel fell off our plane?
What I Learned: Passengers will never understand.


"Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called everybody, and they meet at the bar.” - Drew Carey

Stuff I Hate, a Non-Exhaustive List (Part 1):

• Those plastic loops that sneak their way out of the armpit area of any utterly age-inappropriate, see-through, polyester, braless, backless, sequined, under-twenty-bucks-but-so-what-it's-soon-to-be-smelling-like-Marlboros/vodka/cologne-and-tossed-in-the-Goodwill-pile-anyway top. I'm looking at you, Forever 21. There have been incredible scientific breakthroughs in clothes hanger technology over the years, rendering these armpit-nuisances worthless. Fail.

• Cropped pants. Please, someone fill me in. I don't get it. I want to get it. I feel left out. 

• Norm MacDonald.

• Cats doing stuff. I am an animal lover. People who know me know that. But this site makes me throw up a little in my mouth. 

• Babies doing stuff. Anne Geddes photos are simply frightening. See the baby-bunny-beastie below.

• Biting into something you think has chocolate chips and discovering they're raisins. 

Having a Perez Hilton Moment

Sisterlympics: The Games We Played

Since I've been blabbing so much about Julia's recent hitchin' festivities, I gave Matthew and her their own blog label.

How I thought this would go unchallenged by my other sister Anna, is beyond me. Not that she's starving for the spotlight.

So Anna, this post is just for you.

My parents got it on 28 years ago and eventually produced a big-mouthed blonde blessing named Anna. Now while she did ruin my only-child status, she was pretty cool for a brat. She was my first BFF. And as BFFs do, we loved playing together, and we came up with some pretty sweet games.

Péoplé: Not "people." Péoplé. Péoplé was essentially Barbies, but with other toys included - Care Bears, Breyer horses, She-Ra, My Little Ponies...One (fuzzy blue) pony in particular was Wind Whistler. Anna would make this annoying wind-whistling sound whenever that damn horse did anything, and she got this far-off look in her eyes when she would fly it around the room.

What a weirdo. To get back at her, I cut off one of her Barbies' hair. I told her it would look really good. It didn't. From that point forward, the ugly short-hair Barbie was the bitch Barbie.

Softball: I somehow always talked Anna into pitching. (Sucka!) And I somehow always hit her with the ball. And I somehow always got blamed. WTF? We didn't play a lot of softball.

Quitters: My parents foolishly allowed us to watch the movie "Critters" as children. This wasn't a foolish decision because of nightmares or anything wussy like that. It was foolish because we got super-into scaring the crap out of one another at a really young age. During games of Quitters, we would turn all the lights off and pretend we were being attacked by these little creatures from the movie.

Scare the Crap Out of Your Sister: This game involved hiding in your sister's room until she was in bed, and then...scaring the crap out of her. This was an awesome game. I was definitely the overall winner of this game.

Pick What You Want: Open a catalog and pick one item from each page, including color. Major penalty for picking the same thing someone else picked.

Pick Who You Are: Watch a TV show and pick who you are. For example, from Kids Incorporated, I was Renee, and Anna was Stacy. That's right, Anna picked Fergie, and I picked buck-toothed Renee.



These days the game we play most is phone tag. Love you, sister.

Mawwiage.

Julia and Matthew went and got hitched. Much to my chagrin, Matt's last name does not happen to be Goolia. Ah well.

The wedding kicked ass, and congratulations to the new Mr. and Mrs. But this is my blog, so it's all about me on these here internets.

So now I'd like to go over a few things I learned about myself during my weekend in Statesboro, Georgia:

• Evidently my skill as an orator is purely subjective. It depends solely on the preceding speaker, and whether or not the topic happens to be, "Disney movies really get me hot."
• I do have self-control. When faced with a potentially disastrous opportunity like open access to the bride's Facebook account on her wedding day, as she's occupied with beauty rituals, I can resist any urge to update her status with "Julia is on a bus to Mexico," or "Julia is still so wasted." I can opt instead for "Julia is getting married today!" No, I don't regret that blown chance at all.
• I am officially the fierce single sister. No, really, someone I had never met before knew this about me. Holla!
• I am a dance machine, and it clearly runs in the family. My niece and nephew? Dude, they can breakdance at two years old. My mother and I might have gotten into a booty-dropping contest. And I definitely got a "whoa, a little too much" at one point. 
• I am positive that I ate something as a child that stunted my growth. My guesses? The McDonald's fish sandwiches or the tri-flavor popcorn from a tin. I've always been the family shrimp, but the height gap keeps expanding. I look like I stumbled out of Munchkin Land in most of the wedding photos. 
• Beer and cake are a classy combination, and I'm classy chick for loving the hell out of it.
• Nope, still can't pull off a strapless dress. IBTC, FTW.
• I am not a cougar. I'm a puma.
• I still don't want a wedding.