Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Who goes home to help her mother jump off her car and ends up with a hole burned in her hood because she breaks her jumper cables?

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Shoe Obsessed?

Ok, I admit it. I am an eBay addict. I have no desire for rehab.

But I may need some help for my shoe addiction*. With the help of my mother (who is semi-financing some new, much-needed teacher-appropriate clothing), I have recently gotten a few (like 4) new pairs of shoes... don't gasp, jump, or get irritated with me, I am a BARGAIN shopper that finds steals. I got two pairs of Banana Republic leather heels for $16 AFTER shipping, so it's not like I'm spending the national debt or anything.

But right now, on my watch list of 40-ish items (several things are for Mama), 20 of the items are shoes. 20.

I find heels justifiable because I am short and need all the help I can get to appear taller/older/more authoritarian to the students I'm going to be teaching this fall, most of which are bigger than I am. But 20?

On second thought, I'm going to embrace this shoe fascination. It's going to be a hobby, a collection -- NOT something to hide.

Donations can be made to the Preppy in Pearls Shoe Foundation... just email me if you're willing to make a contribution. As evidenced by the BR heel steal, every penny counts and can make a difference!!

*Just for the sake of being 100% honest, I know I have 100+ pairs of shoes right now, but I can't remember the exact number.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Childish Humor

(Combined from a text post)

Ok, childish humor. I work at an OB/GYN office right? Well, we just had a Dr. Blueball call to refer a patient. No joke, I almost had to leave the room so coworker could talk to him because he could hear me laughing.

Oh, and apparently his name is spelled Bleubahl... still, dude, your name is blue ball.

So who said I was supposed to be a grownup?

Saturday, July 17, 2010



So after a perfectly wonderful hour of shopping for jewelry here (sadly, no purchases were made), Mr. Preppy and I went to check on his mom's dogs since she is out of town for the weekend.

When "his" dog, Willy, had an "accident" (a term I use loosely, because I am 100% positive that Willy hates me for "stealing" Mr. Preppy) on my pants.

Yes. My PANTS people. My lovely VS Linen Beach Pants.

Stupid little Q-tip dog.

Thursday, July 15, 2010


So Whitney over at The Glamour Life of a Housewife - Reviews is giving away one of these beauties... and I'm such a good friend that I'm entering it even though I already have one, just to give one of my besties a chance to win.

Anywho, if you have trouble sleeping, this could be your solution. Best thing is, if you don't win, Brookstone has them on sale for $10 on the website.

P.S. I am in love with the entire nap line... I want it ALL!

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Now that I said I wanted a Volvo they're all I can see!

Saturday, July 10, 2010

No Male Readers Allowed... for this post :)

Ok, I'm just gonna dive right in and go there. We're all girls here... I'm guessing. If there are boys, sorry. Don't read any further.

PMS sucks. Seriously sucks.

Let's just glaze over the fact that I've had to get samples of prescription strength anti-cramp/anti-back pain/ anti-raging b***h medicine from our sample closet at work. I'm sure our nurses are tired of hearing me complain, because Tuesday the first box showed up on my desk. Then I complained again, and I was thrown a key to the closet*. Five boxes later (hey, the initial dose is two pills, with one ever six hours thereafter, and there are only two pills in each sample box -- don't judge), I'm finally feeling better. Now I just have those PMS cravings.

Unlike most people, I don't crave chocolate. I want carbs. Carbs and butter.

Case in point: right now I am enjoying sweet corn muffins slathered in butter. And I'm pretty sure I've never tasted anything so amazingly perfect in my life.

I'm pretty certain Jillian Michaels didn't have this kind of diet in mind to accompany her 30 Day Shred.

*Yes, our sample closet is locked. We have psycho patients. Like, some are accompanied to their OB appointments by a guard and in cuffs. Have you seen I'm Pregnant And...? That's our waiting room some days.

Friday, July 9, 2010

S&B Moments

Tiny background note... cashmere pearls 'n' boots and I were obsessed with Gossip Girl when we lived together, we decided we were actually Sabrina and Blair... for our hair colors' sake, at least. Personality wise, we both lean toward Blair. Anyway, anytime we have a nice drama/glamour/luxury/exclusivity/bitchiness/etc. going on in our lives, it's an S&B moment.

For your viewing pleasure, a pic from her trip south to see me back in February (sorry, I literally just got it off my camera).

Total S&B moment. Exclusive bar, glamourous band, Mr. Preppy fetching drinks out of the frame...

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Job Regret

Ok, so I'm a little tiny bit sad about leaving my job, if only because I will miss some (yes, some) of my coworkers.

I will NOT miss the patients, except a select few... like less than 5.

It's probably a very good thing I have 16 days left after today or else I will start actually saying the things I think/mouth/whisper when my phone is on mute to the patients... Like, "gosh, you're an idiot," or "I just made this appointment for you yesterday and you're calling to see what time it is," or "oooh, too much information lady, I just schedule appointments -- just say you have a problem..." yeah, like that.

P.S. Coworker broke her foot dancing on a picnic table over the holiday weekend... was she drunk/high/naked/stupid/all of the above? Take a guess.

P.P.S. You know someone is one of your besties when she's commenting on your blog at the exact same time you're commenting on hers. :)

Monday, July 5, 2010

Holy Carbonated Beverages Batman

I've discovered a new addiction that is... gasp!... caffeine free!!

Yes, I'm still alive. Are you?

I have developed a ginger ale addiction. Specifically Shweppes diet and raspberry flavors (If you know where I can find diet raspberry, PLEASE let me know!).

I was always one of those people who only had ginger ale when they were sick, but lately I've been trying to be less caffeine-dependant. I don't drink coffee, so it's strictly Diet Coke (NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, EVER offer me a Diet Pepsi... you will not survive the moment.) from whatever-o'clock-it-happens-to-be-when-my-eyes-fly-open (or drag open as so usually happens). As one of my Master Teachers put it during lab hours, I take my caffeine on ice, not in a mug.

But. Yes, there's one of those. But I've come to depend on drinking Diet Coke along with 800mg of Ibuprofen whenever I get a headache, and, call me crazy, I'm just not sure that's the best thing in the world, especially since my cousin had a kidney transplant in his mid 30s because he was a constant user of Ibuprofen when he played college football and it caused kidney failure (not that that's really linked to my caffeine thing, but it's related). See, those headaches happen when the caffeine in my system has gotten low, so I'm really just creating a vicious cycle. I sleep just fine even when I drink a ton of Diet Coke before bed, so I really don't have any effect from it other than as a perk-me-up in the morning and a cause of pain when I don't drink a lot. I decided to cut back over this long weekend since a) with all the rough things going on last week, I was pretty sick feeling constantly, so I was already drinking ginger ale, not Diet coke, and b) starting last Wednesday night, I had a full 6 days (Thursday didn't go to work, Friday was alone in my office and we closed early, have today and tomorrow off) to de-caffeinate my body.

Don't get me wrong, I still heart my Diet Coke. We have a lifelong monogamous relationship going on (at least where my dark coke loyalties lie -- and no, they're not soda, pop, or soda-pop, they're COKE people, geez -- Fresca and, now, ginger ale get the other loyalties) that is not challenged where my caffeine needs are concerned. Plus, I won't have to whiten my teeth as often now.
So in an effort to cheer up myself and Preppy Lab (who really should enjoy the water, isn't that part of a lab's DNA?), I decided to give her a fresh start in our nice, clean, welcoming, shedded (?) hair free house and give her a bath. After Mama and I wrangled her to the floor in our living room and I trimmed and Pedi-Paw'd her nails (because homegirl had some SERIOUS talons going on).

I forgot to account for the fact that she is over 3/4 my weight and that without those talons, she can dig her heels in quite literally. I stood at the top of the stairs with a treat to bribe her and she was seriously looking at me, then into the living room, weighing her options... hmm, do I want a bath or to lounge under the coffee table? So, to prove myself to be even more stubborn than she is, I got behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and proceeded to heave and struggle my way up the stairs with her in front of me, protesting the entire way.

Now, I woke up too sore to work out (it would have been day three of Jillian Michaels's 30 Day Shred) and I thought if I got up and did some things I'd have stretched out enough to work out this afternoon or tonight.

I was wrong. After cajoling and pleading and bribing and hauling and bathing and drying something that is 95 freaking pounds, I'm done. Spent. Drained.

Except... now I have to bathe myself. And Preppy Pup (although the latter isn't so tough, she jumps into the tub while I'm showering pretty frequently and it takes all of thirty seconds to clean her). My arms are having enough trouble staying lateral to type, I'm not sure how I'll be able to raise them to wash my hair.

Friday, July 2, 2010


I am no stranger to death or tough times (I'd been to 25 funerals for various family members by the time I was 9), but yesterday I thought I might not make it through the day.

When my Daddy died, it was sudden, an accident. There were no choices to make except arragements... nothing to unplug, no forms to sign. It was done, with no input from me. I honestly think this is a good thing. Daddy wouldn't have wanted to live the way he would have had to if there had been any way to save him, and I wouldn't have wanted to see my strong, loving, caring Daddy living that way either -- but if you think for one second I would have been able to make the choice that so many people have to make for their parents, when it's "time," you would be wrong. I don't think I would have been that strong.

Now, many people will probably judge me negatively for the following statement, but you must understand that as an only child, my siblings growing up have always been our animals. Yesterday I had to make the choice, along with Mama, to let one of those siblings go. I've had Preppy Golden, since I was eleven years old. Having her around for over half of my life, I don't have one memory since then that doesn't have her in it. She was never the most active dog, never the one needing attention. She was just there. I remember crying into her fur the day Mama told me her and Daddy's divorce was final. I hugged her first when I got into UT. She always knew when I felt bad, and would come lay her blocky perfect head in my lap for as long as I needed to pet her velvet ears. She was always ready to high five you for a treat, even at the end. She was a rescue dog and has had a "nub" instead of a tail since we got her because the idiots uninformed people thought she was part cocker spaniel. Obviously you can't really shake a nub, so her whole hind end would wiggle out of control as soon as she saw me walk in the door every day. When we first got her, long before Preppy Lab and Preppy Pup were thought about, she used to sleep in my bed (and she still would have if my room was on the first floor still). Mama would tuck us in at night, me under the covers and PG on the floor next to the bed, and would come in the next morning to find two blonde heads on pillows. She knew how to hop on the bench at the bottom of my bed and scoot her way up under the covers.

She was the best dog ever. Better behaved than Preppy Pup, better mannered than Preppy Lab. After we did "it" yesterday, we took her to my grandparents' farm. My granddaddy, Pa (how country are we?), had a special bond with our golden girl. They shared a love for Mema's (my grandmother) pound cake and cheap beer (both of which she got Wednesday and yesterday). He never had inside dogs until he saw how she was with us, and then he said he got it, he understood what the fuss was about. My big strong Pa, who to this day cannot accept a thank you for anything or feel comfortable saying I love you back to us, was close to tears yesterday.

I miss my girl. I know she's not suffering anymore and that it was the right thing to do, but it is the single hardest thing I've had to do in my life. Don't judge me. I'm not saying animals are better than people (although I'm certainly more , just that I've never had to make a decision like that before and it shook me very badly. I haven't been able to wear makeup all week because I start crying at random moments -- me, who never leaves her house to go to the gas station at the entrance to the neighborhood without mascara.