Fun in the Sun

Seeing how in the sun, my skin fares about as well as tissue paper would in a toaster oven, I am no stranger to sunburns. Sunburns that leave you with sleepless nights, tossing and turning as the soft fabric of your clothes become more like sandpaper, and with every inch you move you feel great and unimaginable agony. Sunburns that make you freeze and send goose bumps crawling across you, even though your skin is radiating enough heat to keep a small family warm. Yes, I know those sunburns and I know them well.

The first really bad sunburn I can remember was in 5th grade. Actually, it was my very first day of fifth grade. There I was, alone at the lunch table, my jean fabric "Blossom" hat framing my bright red freckled face, eating my turkey sandwich and cheese crackers all alone. And this sunburn was bad, believe me. I had spent the entire day before at the beach, imagining how great my tan would look as I walked into school on that first day of fifth grade-- the highest and coolest of all elementary grades. Little did I know my skin had other plans in mind. Plans that would leave me wishing I could skip lunch (and recess for that matter) and hide and cry in the bathroom. I mean the first day of a new class without the comfort of last year's friends is traumatic enough, but with the added stares from classmates ranging from shock to sympathy, it was all too much.

This latest sunburn is probably the most unique of all my sunburns, only existing in very special places. I went to the beach a few days ago and before I left my house I prepared. I must have used like half a bottle of SPF 15, taking time to make sure I it got everywhere.

Well, apparently it did NOT go everywhere. My thighs? They're ok. My shins, calves? They're good too. But it that tiny little region in between, the land of the knees, there was no sunscreen. Damnit! Oh, and right around my bikini line too, yeah that's a fun little spot, lemme tell ya. So now I have really, really red knees, and it's so, so painful. I put some Vaseline on them, but now I just have really, really red greasy knees and it's not much better.

At least it was only my knees, because if this burn had been everywhere, I would have been cooked for sure. And I have to say, I don't really think this look is so attractive...

Well that was easy...

New URL to my blog, seems to have done the trick..we'll find out!

Exciting things:

1. This weekend I'm going camping! White Springs, an annual trip my family and I have gone on for about...um...twenty years, no joke. I'm looking forward to the music, card games, and moonshine! Yes that's right, moonshine.

2. My best friend Whitney won tickets to the Sex and the City PREMIERE! So we get to go to a shnazzy club, have a few drinks, and then get ESCORTED to the movie theater. Maybe they'll be paparazzi (jokes, jokes), but if they are there, we'll sure be ready for them!

3. I'm going to Connecticut with my sisters in June, for my sister Coral's bachelorette party! Six flags, and dinner I believe...then, we're going to New York City! Pretty excited about that, because my last trip there was pretty short.

4. Coral's wedding! It's supposed to be the "party of the year" and I'm really excited. :)

5. Six words. SO. YOU. THINK. YOU. CAN. DANCE. Let the criticism, jealousy, and awe begin!

Okay, that's all the exclamation points I can muster, all that happiness has exhausted me, so I'm off to bed.

Lazy Blogger...

Yes, that's me. I'm sorry, but here's is something pretty awesome, check it out and enjoy.

http://vimeo.com/993998

Post, or lack there of...

Even though it is my usual Boyfriend time of the week, he has kicked me out of my room, to do school work. What a nierd. So instead, I'll be reading this:

And I'm quite excited about that. Pasta and zombie movies later! Sweet!

I found someone who sneezes more sneezes than I sneeze!

This is the way I sneeze, and I've been doing that a lot this morning (I blame all the sanding Whit and I did in her bathroom last night, in prep for the Big Paint Job), but I think this Panda may have me beat with the sneeze count. Or at least a close tie.

Most people I know sneeze like this:



And just like the mama bear, it scares the bejesus out of me.

By the way, don't Panda Bears totally look like they could have a zipper running down there back? I bet they're all in costume, and the real fur of a Panda Bear is just something plain and boring....



Double by the way, I typed the words "naked bear" into google to find this image, and unless you like a fresh dose of PORN in the morning, I don't recommend you do the same.

Hidden Treasures, Hidden Pleasures

Floating around somewhere in this house, there is a playing card.This is not your average playing card however, oh no! it's quite special. You see this card features a picture of a naked man and his ahem, man bits. Why do I own such a playing card you ask? Well, I'll tell ya.

At my friend Jessica's bachelorette party the theme was everything pink, and everything penis. Penis cake, penis ice cubes, penis balloons, penis playing cards; it was quite a display. I saw these cards and just could not resist, and so, I pocketed two. I knew I'd feel guilty for being the reason Jessica's sister no longer had a full deck of penis cards, but, at the time that did not matter; I had to do it.

The plan was to take these cards and hide them somewhere in my boyfriend's belongings, preferably in a place where after finding the cards, public humiliation would be imminent (am I evil?). I hid them inside his bag, between the pages of the book he was currently reading. Before he could find them however, I told him about it, changing my mind about the whole public humiliation thing (see, NOT evil!). And from this began the "Hide The Penis Card Game". I hide it and he finds it and we laugh, and then he hides it and I find it and we laugh some more. It's really a lot of fun, you should try it! It's gone back and forth a couple times I think, but now he's hidden it somewhere and I can't find it. And it's driving me crazy. I told him tonight that I STILL had not found it, and he was quite surprised..."YOU haven't found it YET?" Which made me think it was in some kind of place where I really should have found it by now. "Did you bury it deep in my underwear drawer? Or is it in my laundry basket or something? You know I take forever to do laundry..."

And he said?

"Nope".

So where the heck is it? How can I sleep at night, knowing that somewhere lurking in the shadows there lies a ween? I can't, that's how....great.

A little unsure...

I'm spankin' new to this "professional working world" and I'm also not from England, so I think I need a little help. Remember that scary interview I went to last week? A dream job, and potential dream career? Of course you do. Well at the end of that interview, I was told to "keep in touch" and to "check out some museums" and I was also given a phone number and a "I've got a lot of free time so let me know if you do go to any museums..." but none of it seemed too weird. So then, really wanting this job, I called to "check in" and I mentioned that I was going to see a museum, and somehow we decided to meet up and check one out together. After hanging up I had a slight panic attack but was calmed after talking to my boyfriend and my best friend; they both thought it was a good idea. After all, it seems perfectly acceptable that an art dealer would want to take a could be employee to a museum to attest their knowledge on art and to see if they're capable of speaking about art intelligently (which really, who knows if I can do that, I don't).

I met him yesterday, at the Orlando Museum of Art and together we walked through their Norman Rockwell exhibit. I wouldn't be lying if I said I enjoyed myself, I did, I like art and seeing some really famous paintings up close and personal made me feel all gitty inside; almost like seeing a celebrity. He definitely knows his art, and gave me plenty of background on Norman Rockwell, or any other artist we happened to see, but it all seemed like chit chat: "Oh I like those colors" and "Wow, that one's really got a message". I didn't think much of it at the time, but then last night laying in bed I started to see how date-ish the whole thing seemed. He bought me a souvenir (two 2.00 postcards but still), he was ready to do something else afterwards, and after I told him I needed to meet my boyfriend and we said our good-byes, he hugged me. Now, I know certain people are "huggers" but I'm certainly not. Unless we make-out all the time, or you are close family, I do not like to be touched. Or stood too closely to. The hug wasn't creepy though, it was quick and painless, but it was awkward. Just like the kind of hug you'd give your backwoods cousin, the one you haven't seen in seven years, who may or may not have teeth, and who's been eyeing you all night? Yeah just like that, one light pat on the back and you're outta there. We also barely talked about the job, barely as in like two sentences, and that makes it seem date-ish too.

I could be completely overreacting here, he never crossed the line, or said anything inappropriate, and I have a wonderful reputation for over analyzing. Who knows, maybe I'll feel really stupid in a couple of weeks when I get this great job, and I think back to how I thought he was trying to wine and dine me.

I really hope I get to feel stupid.

Photo Shoot of Horrors

My friend Jessica just sent me an email with the link to the professional pictures from her wedding a couple weekends ago. The picture taking process was a lot of fun, (especially with the added help of mimosas and wine) and to see how nice the pictures came out is just the frosting on the cake ya know? Except for one minor problem, the "funny face" pictures. Drinking plus "funny face" pictures is never a good idea for me, especially with my friend Whitney in tow. We just do NOT know how to restrain ourselves. Really, it's a problem.

Check out the left side of the picture:

Oh, aren't those faces so funny! Look at the tongues and the crooked eyes! Perfectly acceptable "funny faces".

Now, check out the right side of the picture, where Whitney and I are shown. DISCLAIMER: If you have a weak stomach, please do not look, and Pete, for real, just use your imagination...

Prepare yourself, and see us HERE.

I warned you!

We've learned our lesson, painfully. Now, we're not saying those faces will never see the light of day(or night) again, but next time we'll save them for those drunken nights in the safety of our home, or maybe even a local bar, but a wedding? No. Never again. Never.

Guilty Pleasures Anyone?

I really hate to admit it, but sometimes I like watching American Gladiators. I know, I know, please don't shun me? The thing is it's really, really funny, it's also always disturbing, but it can be funny as well. Take tonight for example. Right before the obstacle course thing where they shoot things at each other (see I'm not so diluted to the point of knowing the games) this "fire-fighter" chick comes up to the camera and spouts the usual cheesy smack, and takes her place to start the game. The time starts and she gets to the sling shot, pulls back and out shoots the tennis ball...oh wait, nope, it falls flat, doesn't even make it past the little shieldy thing! Try number two and she fails AGAIN!! What a loser! Then (and this is where I think I peed a little laughing), she runs up to the ball-launcher-shooter-gun-whatever, loads it, and points it in the wrong direction! The announcer starts screaming "she's got it the wrong way, it's the wrong way!" and then whuuump the ball goes flying BACKWARDS! Really? Don't these people have to try out for this? Then they re-play it in slow-mo and again, I think I peed a little. So funny.

And my favorite part? The Eliminator. On tonight's episode, our star player of the evening, does a backwards somersault on the treadmill-whatever and slides down ass up, and over her head...

I mean, I know these girls are working hard and all, and I'm sure I couldn't do it, but really, can you watch this without laughing?




Didn't think so.


But as I've mentioned, this show is also quite disturbing, and I feel I can illustrate this best with another video. Don't force yourself to watch it all...make it to 00:41 you've seen all you need to see.




If you easily frighten'd, beware of Titan...Shakity-Shake Shake....BARF.

In other news I've been on a strict diet of Chinese food for the second day in a row, and guess what I'm eating tomorrow? Yup that's right! I was doing so good too, cooking new foods every night, healthy (well semi-healthy) foods, and now I'm all about the sweet and sour. It's just so tasty... and cheap too! And right now that's a really tempting combo for me. Chinese food also equals fortune cookies, and I'm always down for some good advice! Tonight my cookie told me "Always stay close to your friends, especially if he owes you". Brilliant. I think all this sugarized goodness is giving me stomach aches, so I promise not eat anymore after I finish off this batch, swear. I also don't want the girl in there to start recognizing me and asking "sweet sour?" before I can even say my order. No that wouldn't be good, so I'm going to avoid going there for a while...or at least a week.

Blogging Burdens

They say you should dance like no one is watching, and I think it is safe to say I continuously accomplish that; unfortunately. But what I have found lately, is that this same methodology does not really apply to my writing: it's hard for me to write like no one is reading. Really, not many people are reading, mainly just my close friends, my boyfriend, and maybe sometimes a sister, and other than that I'd just assume a few random people come here and read, and then maybe even a few not so random people come here and spy. So what's got me all hung up? Why do I find a mental block sometimes when I come here to write? I can't really say, maybe it's just that all this blogging stuff is still a pretty new thing for me, but either way, I'm going to start trying really, really hard to not care. What does that mean for you, the few people who do read this? You'll most likely see entries that really have no sort of huge relevance, or importance. I actually started not caring only moments ago, hence the post about hair loss. So if you find yourself uninterested, I'm sorry, but this blog is just for me. Aren't I a selfish one.

Hair today, gone tomorrow...

I shed...a lot. It's rather annoying, and I don't really get it, except that I think it's a genetic thing. My sister always has hair around her room, my other sister always used to leave big ass hair balls in the shower that would eventually clog the drain (forcing my poor dad to fish them out with a wire hanger...yuck!) and even my niece is a shedder. She recently made me a graduation card, where she drew a picture of me and then taped pink pieces of construction paper to the card as "snow". Mixed in with the snowy bits of pink paper was a stand of her hair that found it way into the mix, and never found it's way out.

My friends unfortunately are forever affected by my shedding and never hesitate to tell me about it. Whitney once found a stand of my hair inside the glove compartment of her car, Todd often gets stands of my hair in his laundry, and Pete, as I've just found out, finds them in very interesting places as well.

Check out his "One word" post for strand:

sleeping next to master shedder,("Master Shedder" is a nickname (one of the "nicknames") Pete has so lovingly given me. Clever, ain't he?)you will wake up to find hairs in very unorthodox places on your body. These strands are far longer than the typical hairs found in these positions on the human body and often, they are wrapped in very peculiar ways in very peculiar places.

HA! That's all I got to say about that...

Maybe I should try that Marsha Brady technique and brush my hair no less than 100 times right before bed, and right in the morning...and after breakfast...after lunch...mid day hair brush...evening hair brush...

That would fix it. Eh, no it probably wouldn't. Oh well!

That . Was. INTENSE.

Okay, I'm home. RELIEF. I'm sure no one really likes going to interviews...but I loath it. In almost any type of social situation I do okay, I'm comfortable, I'm chatty, what-have-you, but in interviews? I'm one large whimpering wide-eyed mess. "You want me to talk?? About ME?!" And usually it's not too bad, because usually it's nothing big: restaurants, hotels, etc, but today was different. Today the realms of my comfort zone expanded and took me to my first "professional interview". Holy Jesus.

It's a position working for an "upscale high-end art gallery" as an secretary/admin assistant...Sounds simple enough, art gallery=pretty freakin' awesome, so yeah should be cool... Yeah, not so simple, and not cool but freaking amazing.

I walk into the high rise building and take the elevator to the 5th floor. "They'll be right with you"..."THEY'LL"? There's more than ONE? So I'm already a little more than nervous, when I get the okay from the receptionist to meet THEM downstairs in the conference room. Take a couple deep breaths on my three second ride in the elevator to the 4th floor, and then, it's on. I meet a very enthusiastic Richard and his assistant Kato and sit down. I'm already feeling some relief because they seemed happy to meet me and eager, and not so straight to business and "where's your experience?!", so that was good. Then Richards starts talking....and never stops. I mentioned I don't like interviews because I have to talk about myself, and so this was excellent because I think I said about...five words. And Richard? About 5000...in the first minute. He explained that basically they're in the process of opening a gallery where they'll have a big auction twice a year, and that he's traveled all over the world, and works with people who have millions of kabillions sitting around in their bank account just for the heck of it. And he goes on and on and gets into the details of his company and their goals and after I'm thoroughly confused he looks over my resume. "Oh crap here it comes" I think, but was surprised to learn he was actually glad I have no experience, because he can "mold" me and teach me the in's an out's of art. SCORE! I mentioned I studied literature, which he liked, and that I also enjoy writing. "Oh you're a writer? Well, we plan on having catalogs to go along with all the art we sell, maybe you could move up and eventually do that for us?" HECK YES! How awesome would that be?? Then to top everything off, he asks me if I'd be okay to travel. I'm thinking...Tampa, Miami, maybe out of state, and then he asks, ever so seriously: "do you have your passport? you should work on that...". Yikes! Now I'm writing for an art gallery and traveling to Paris and Rome?? Seriously?! This is just not nice...because I was one out of like a hundred if not more, and this job is like straight out of my dreams, and I don't want to see it pass by me.

So how do you think I can win these guys over? They don't even have a building yet, or a salary range, and everything is still in all the beginning stages, so it would be a little bit before I'd even start to work, IF I got the job. IF. I hate IF's!

I'm not getting my hopes up, but I am sending a batch of cookies and a "thank you for meeting me" to their office STAT.

Oh and for everyone who was on Orange Ave and witnessed my Marline Monroe impression...you're welcome for the free show, thanks for the whistles! Damn wind...

Rainbows thoughts, Butterfly wishes and Cupcake dreams

What was that saying? Follow your dreams and your dreams will become reality? Reach for the stars? Bla bla blabaty-bla bla? Does that really work? I have to say I think I'm a pretty optimistic person, (I can see how in writing I may come off a tad pessimistic, but hey, I've got no job and no money people! What do you expect?) but lately I hate just about anything inspirational. I believe in positive thinking, sure, and I believe you're thoughts reflect your actions, but sometimes I just want to slap those "I'm so happy look at me" people. No one is that happy, not all the time at least. But after all the hours and hours I spent online window shopping today, and without the funds to actually purchase anything, I think I may have to find alternative resources. So if wishing and believing in dreams really does turn poo into gold, I'm going to wish and dream a whole lot, and you should help me out and wish and dream some too.

Here's what we're wishing for:

Cute little sundress. I like. I want.




Sparrow necklace. "Sparrow" makes me think of Johnny Depp. Johnny Depp makes me think of love. Love makes me think of happiness. Don't I deserve happiness?





Look at how tiny and dainty. It's hardly there. It's a hardly there ring! Maybe my bank account won't notice if there's hardly any money there?





Ooh pretty...I wouldn't have to wear anything else! Who needs clothes, when you've got such a pretty necklace??




At first I did like this little purse here, but then it won me over. And now it keeps playing games with my heart. Quit playing games with my heart! I should have known from the start...

So there you have it. Just a few of the many items I found online today that I can only own vicariously through the Jamie that exists in my dreams at night....who also has a job, a chic little apartment, and a new car. What a bitch.

It's a time for wonder, old timers say, "the greatest gift, the simplest gift: another day".*

I have this picture of my dad and I that sits on top of my TV. It was just after my high school graduation, just a few minutes after my class and I threw up our hats and cheered for our new found "freedom". I have my arms around his tiny body, he's wearing my graduation cap, and you can see, if you look closely, a small tear forming in his eye. He was so proud. Just before the picture was taken, he struggled over the ropes that were separating the students from the crowd, and gave me his famous Daddy bear hug-- the kind of hug that nearly takes your breath away. This was a wonderful moment for us, an important moment, one that my dad worked hard to be a part of. I was unaware of it at the time, but being there that day was one of his final wishes; being there for my graduation and sharing this special moment with me. Just one month later, he lost his 5 year battle with cancer, and quietly passed away in our home as my family and I cuddled up to him in bed.

Yesterday I graduated again, this time from college, and I have to admit it was a bitter-sweet moment for me. I missed hearing him cheer, and seeing that "I'm so proud of you" look, and most of all I missed the warmth of that famous bear hug. I know there will be more moments; future turning points in my life where I'll feel that bitter-sweet sting, and feel as if a part of myself is missing. In these moments I'll bring alive my dad again, hear his voice and talk to him, and I'll remember that day of my high school graduation and know that his pride was not just for that moment, but for all the future moments that he'd miss. I will not let his pride go in vain, instead I'll learn to taste the bitter, knowing that the sweet will always be there to save me in the end.

*The title of this blog is a lyric from one of my dad's songs, which is also the url of this blog: South Moon Under.

No work, and No school makes Jack a dull boy

So here I am a chillin, on my second cup of coffee this morning, contemplating my future accomplishments of the day. Let's see....Um, do my normal rounds of the internet job search, email my graduation party invites, and then...who knows! That's the beauty of it all...out of school, out of work, but not out of fun!! Aren't you working people jealous? Don't you wish you had all the time in the world to sit around and do nothing? Well, if you are jealous, STOP IT. Because this SUCKS. I'm so bored! I went to Publix yesterday and bought a drawing pad and a set of Crayola watercolor paints. Why? Because I am that desperate for mind stimulation. It's not even about being broke anymore (but seriously, if I didn't have my weekend "job" I'd be knee deep in doo and on the street corners begging the passer-bys with my pathetic little Maxwell coffee can), it's more about feeling productive and useful.

Anyways, my graduation is this weekend, HURRAY FOR ME! And I'm totally excited about looking like a big wiener in my cap and gown (seriously the gown is HUGE, why are they so big? is BIGGER really better? Do I look more Important, and Studious in my tarp sized gown?). And I am a bit worried about tripping (probably over my gown), although that would make one very entertaining blog entry, and trust me people your entertainment is all I care about, I am your Monkey, don't you forget it.

Okay, well I better get to my day, it's calling my name impatiently and waiting for me. "Watercolors by Jamie" here we come...I know that I will get a job in time, and then I'll look back at these free days and long for their return (gotta love that "Murphy's Law", who is Murphy anyways?), but until then I'll just have to embrace my boredom and have fun going just a little bit mad.

Like my good ol' friend Jack.