What the?

So tonight I went to a friend's house who is recovering from surgery. Upon our arrival she was quite out of it. We decided that subway sandwiches would be the answer (sometimes they are, no matter the question). After some effort on our part, we were able to determine what our drugged up recoveree wanted. So off to Subway it was. I knew there was one close, but I did not know what an ordeal a simple trek to Subway would become. As we head to get our sandwiches I can see the sign beckoning to us (it was beckoning because I had only had a glass of chocolate milk all day and was STARVING- don't judge- I get busy). The sign was in fact there ,the building, however, had been leveled. No subway. On to the next one- it can't be that far, right? Well it can, and was that far. I know there has to be one coming up and sure enough I see the yellow and green Subway sign as a beacon in the night. We park, jump out of the car and as we approach the door there is a sign and hand written at that. It says "We appreciate our patrons but regret to inform you that Subway will be closed for the rest of the night due to lack of bread." Lack of bread? Seriously? I know what you are thinking, why not go to a different food establishment? Well, I did not want to bother my poor friend who barely had the energy or the coherence to tell me what she wanted the first time. So Subway it must be! We travel further down the road. I knew there had to be another Subway in close proximity. We finally arrive at our third and final Subway (thank goodness) to discover that they were still standing as well as stocked with bread, no italian herbs and cheese though but at that point I didn't care. Finally success! We ate sandwiches and watched Garden State. That's a Friday night in the life of Angie- jealous?

Cherokee Tacos

We met for our second book club meeting where we discussed "The Education of Little Tree" by Forrest Carter. I have to be honest, the first couple of chapters didn't really peak my interest and so I wasn't looking forward to the rest of the book. However, I forced myself to continue and I ended up really liking it. It was a sweet story about a young boy and his grandfather teaching him the "Cherokee Way". I would recommend it if you would like a quick yet enriching read. Funny thing is, it's supposed to be an autobiography- except that it was found out later that the author wasn't actually Cherokee or an orphan raised by his grandparents. He was actually a white supremacist who wrote for politicians against desegregation. I opted out of reading about the author before I read the book because ignorance is bliss. I would like to think that this book was his form of atonement for his shady racist past- but who knows? It was a good book none the less.

I still believe in the Easter bunny

And that he lays eggs and hides them and all that. It just makes sense, doesn't it? A bunny, laying eggs . . . hmm. Ok, so I don't "believe" anymore, but I did believe in Santa until I was 12. Call me gullible, but I couldn't imagine how my parents could possibly set up a pin ball machine in one night- it was totally Santa. Anyway, back to Easter.


I stayed the night with my parents on Saturday night because my mother wanted to dye eggs. It was cute, just her and me, dying eggs as we watched Across the Universe. She totally fell asleep as I watched the adorable British boys turn every Beatles song into what sounded like Coldplay (and I loved every minute of it). My mom snored on the couch and occasionally woke up to say something that didn't make any sense.

I then stayed up talking to my dad until 4am. I love it when that happens- we talked about everything from the temple to boys to laser hair removal. It was quite the talk. Easter Sunday was nice. My whole family went to church together, followed by dinner, a near overdose of RLS medication (it was a mistake), a 3 hour nap and then 3 hours of Deal or No Deal. The night ended with me driving home, still incredibly drugged (again it was accidental) and fearing being pulled over for a DUI. Starting my own traditions may be dangerous, next Easter NO DRUGS and that's a promise.

Blog Stalker

So, I have a set of blogs of which I check regularly and when I say regularly, I mean like 3 or 4 times a day. It's like Christmas or something when one of my favorite blogs has a new post. I get really anxious when I can't be at my computer all day and have to wait until I get home to read my "stories". All of the blogs I have linked here on the right are just a part of the ones I check everyday. I have a whole slew of blogs I have bookmarked that I have found through other friends or have just stumbled upon and are interesting and fun to read. These people (for the most part) have no idea that I read about their lives on a daily basis. I feel kinda like a blog stalker in that way- not in a creepy sense. I just enjoy reading about what other people have to say. I also get super annoyed when my favorite blogs aren't updated regularly- it's like when the writers strike happened and The Office was put on hold. I find myself worrying about what is happening to Michael or Jim or Pam and look forward to when I will know again. Same with the blogs. Patience never really was a characteristic of mine.

I have no idea if I have any blog stalkers. I'd like to think that I do. That somewhere out there, someone is interested in what I have to say or in what stupid thing I decide to write about. To them, if there are any of you out there, I am sorry that it has been 15 days since my last post. I promise to do better and to be more consistent. I have been sick/busy/unimaginative for the past couple weeks and just didn't know what to write. Call it writer's block, I guess. But the blog WILL continue- the stories must go on.

To get a dose of Angie everyday try here (it is far less exciting though).

Countdown to the end . . .

. . . of my twenties. Ok, sorry to be so dramatic, but I wanted to grab your attention. This post is extremely important. I turn 30 in exactly 80 days. This may not seem like a big deal but most people my age have already had some sort of big event- be it a wedding or a baby- where they have registered for amazing gifts and received them. Well, since I have had neither - I am posting a 30th birthday wish list or register, if you will.

This way, no one can say that they didn't know what to get me. I'm telling you right now. In case you were stumped or simply didn't know you were required to get me SOMETHING. I only turn 30 once after all.

Here we go, in no particular order:

1.Money- who doesn't want money? And I figure I shouldn't stop asking for it. Who cares if it's rude or uncouth to ask for money? At least I'm not begging on the street corner. This way I can spend it on things that I really want- like laser hair removal (I am planning to be hair free by 31) or paying off my credit card (hair free AND debt free).

2.Gerbera Daisies- I love them. All sorts of colors.

3.This chair. I think it would look great in my room and I want to read a book in it.

4.Your favorite book. I love to read and if everyone I know gave me their favorite book, I would have quite an amazing collection to choose from and most likely they would be amazing books.

5.A silver locket. I am fascinated by them lately. They just seem so romantic. I like this one and especially this one. I promise to whoever got me one, I would put your picture inside- at least for a little while.

6.A super fun dance party. No explanation required.

7.Music mixes. But really unique ones. I love them.

8.A thoughtful surprise. Now this would be hard to do- a surprise is easy, but a thoughtful one would take some effort.

9.Concert tickets, plane tickets, movie tickets. Basically any ticket that I would probably have to buy myself, and would.

So, do I sound greedy? I am not saying that any of these things have to happen. I just wanted the cyber world to know, just in case. Just in case.

Book Clubbing

My book club met tonight. I was the host this go around and was a little nervous about it. Not only does the host "HOST" the book club, but they were the one to choose the book for the month and provide the treats for the club. I played it safe and we had a baked potato bar. I baked WAY too many potatoes. Do baked potatoes keep? If so, I'll be eating them for days. The book that I chose was "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time" by Mark Hadon.



I really liked it. It was written as if from the perspective of a boy with Autism. Being that I work with children and some adults who have Autism or Aspergers Syndrome, I found the book very interesting. Basically this boy is investigating the murder of a dog in his neighborhood and in the process reveals some pretty heavy stuff about his family. I think the author did a really good job of writing it in a very black or white way of thinking.

The book is quite an easy read. The chapters are numbered only with prime numbers- this goes along with the boys love of numbers and fascination with them in his life and in the world. We talked about a lot of his behaviors that we found in ourselves. It was interesting some of our own quirkiness we revealed. I would definitely recommend this book to others. It was a little sad in parts, but different and interesting.

The next book we are reading is "The Education of Little Tree"- you are welcome to keep up if you'd like. Hey anyone who has read the Mark Hadon book and would like to tell their feelings- please comment. It can be like an online book club extension!

And the Oscar goes to . . .

I was so proud.

It's not time to make a change

One of my all time favorite things is listening to my ipod on shuffle. I have about 3500 songs and it would take me FOREVER to listen to all of it, so when my ipod is on shuffle it's kinda like Christmas. I am so excited to find out what the next song will be- whether it's an old Counting Crow's song I forgot I loved or the new Radiohead I can't get enough of (Sullivan Street and All I Need- in case you were wondering). Tonight was especially great. I was driving home from a friend's house where we watched Some Like it Hot (men in drag and a braless Marilyn Monroe) and I was playing the ipod shuffle game when the most wonderful song came on- "Father and Son" by Cat Stevens aka Yusaf Islam. I sang it as loud as I could as I drove and when it was over I hit repeat and sang it again. I remember sitting on my bed with my cousin Heather at about age 8 and her teaching me to sing this song when we were supposed to be sleeping. I think this may be one of the greatest songs of all time.

There is no way a man who writes lyrics like that could a terrorist.

See you at the crossroads

Went on a little trip to Colorado for the weekend. It was quite fun, full of incredibly normal stuff- which was just what I needed. Previously, when I visited my special friend Joey from out of town, we would do extremely exciting things, like cutting down trees and driving for hours, not to mention our near death canyoneering adventure. So "normal" seemed like a good alternative for a change.

I learned a thing or two during my stay such as:
Bubble wrap=fun (knew that one already)
wrapping yourself in bubble wrap and rolling around on the ground=even more fun
wrapping yourself in bubble wrap and jumping on a trampoline=priceless

As I had cut down my first Christmas tree just two months ago, it was only logical to come full circle and burn it in a ceremonious Christmas tree bonfire. Books were also burned, but strictly due to water damage- not due to moral religious or political objections. It was quite the fire.

Early on in my trip, a mystery began to unfold and clues seemed to be around every corner:
hot hamburger
abandoned tree house
severed foot
uneven sidewalk
the rent note on the stairs
and conversation hearts that spelled out mystical sentences

Jinkies (don't we look like sleuths?)

What did it all mean? What conclusion did it bring us to? Hmm, nothing. . . yet.

We carbo loaded at breakfast everyday, just to ensure we would be able to make it through the rigorous schedule of normalcy we had planned. We napped to keep up our strength. We made a trip to a granola town and didn't even eat granola (we are rebels like that). And all I have to say is thank heavens Michael was almost done with his milk- I don't think even Knight Rider could have saved him if it had been much longer (did you know that if enough people had watched the made for TV movie of Knight Rider they may make it a series? I didn't know or care either).

We wanted normal- so I nagged and he told me what to do, in fact I nagged so much that he FINALLY cleaned off his ceiling fan. That was a fight that could go down in history. But then we made up and ate two entire bags of Cadbury mini eggs and shared a gastrointestinal breakdown -which only brought us closer.

I guess what I am saying is that I had a good weekend celebrating our presidents. I am still a little pissed that I didn't get to dress up as Lincoln, but Joey was right (never question him, rule #1)- the top hat and beard did look much better on him.

***NOTE: much of this blog entry is rich with sarcasm, for those who take things FAR too literally. Joey is defintely one of the nice ones.

Lets be honest this Valentine's Day