What’s a girl to do when she can’t think of anything to write? She looks through her emails for inspiration. I found the following, and this is official confirmation that I’m a little more than 2% crazy (see post titled: Things You Learn From Guys Who Aren’t Trying To Impress You).

On his 40 pound weight loss:

I’m going to need to ask you to eat something so that people will stop asking me what “your deal” is and why you are so skinny.

Also, I’m a little bit bitter that you went and got you some abs AFTER we were no longer together. I’ll make sure I get a boob job and a personal trainer in the next few weeks.

Just thought I’d put that out there.

Kisses,
Mandi

On why I’m not answering my BlackBerry messages:

My phone is in the car and it is raining, so I don’t want to go get it. Lazy and ridiculous? Yes and yes.

In response to a former co-worker’s (and current friend) email:

Please read what you sent me again. It’s the best email ever. The perfect combination of witty, sarcastic and schizophrenic.

How are things with you? I’m trucking along here at work, and with the house…wow, you told me buying a house was a pain in the as…rump, but I believe you now. It’s not an easy process. Part of me wants to say, “F this, I’m renting” but I think it will be worth it soon.

I had a great time with you guys last week. We must make it a ritual. Wahahahaha, ritual. Sounds creepy enough for the both of us.

Hope you are having a good day. I get to go home in less than an hour. GET YOU SOME.

Love,
M

Back and forth group email between my former roommates:

Meigs: Ginny, your message just gave me a hot flash and made me think of things that I am just not ready for…Our life is changing. I need a drink.
Me: Hand me the vodka, please. Just straight vodka.

I saw Tiger Woods today. And I was “working.”

It does not suck to be me this week.

• Does anyone else not care about American Idol?
• Does anyone else constantly think about where they want to go on vacation?
• Does anyone else wear their hair in a messy side bun to work?
• Does anyone else wonder what they did on Tuesday nights before the Real Housewives of NYC came on?
• Does anyone else get irritable if they don’t take Diet Coke breaks?
• Does anyone else cry every time they see this commercial?
• Does anyone else think that interior decorating is not their forte?
• Does anyone else find it kind of sad that the only albums they look at anymore are the ones on Facebook?
• Does anyone else feel like plastic surgery would be so much easier than working out?
• Does anyone else get really happy when they hear this song?
• Does anyone else count their years til retirement?
• Does anyone else have a friend named Nancy Margaret whose birthday is today?
• Does anyone else mark the number seven with a line through it?
• Does anyone else get annoyed when their online shopping cart is emptied?
• Does anyone else wonder why Michelle Obama walks so frumpily (no, that’s not a word)?
• Does anyone else still buy a newspaper?
• Does anyone else remember this and still love Cadbury bunny eggs?

I’m sitting in my office, typing away, answering calls and doing the whole work routine. Just a normal day until I hear them. Squealy, loud, hyperactive…children. Yes, plural. I walked down the hallway to investigate, and peered over the balcony to see three kids running wildly around our reception desk.

I can’t lie, kids kind of freak me out. That may sound odd (and it probably is), but I was never one of those girls that wanted to be a teacher. In fact, my mom will occasionally call me from her classroom and just hearing the chaos in the background stresses me out. A similar situation happens when I’m on the phone with my friend Audra and it’s bath time for her daughters.

I’m sure one day I’ll think they are adorable, and won’t be able to stop talking about what cute thing they said or did the other day, but for now (and in my office)? Not so much. And, before you go sending me hate mail or comments, please know that I do realize that “the children are our future” and “a gift from God” and all that. I don’t hate them or anything, I just don’t really know what to do with them.

The Governor of South Carolina is an egotistical, narcissistic moron. Always has been, always will be.

Read about what a total jerk he is here, in The New York Times. I’m sure he’s in his office with a dingy shirt and dirty tie on (seriously, dry cleaning is not that expensive) memorizing word for word every national news article about himself. We get it, Governor. You like attention.

Here’s an idea for you, Mark: Let’s start cutting the budget with your staff first. I, for one, think you’ll miss that security at the mansion. Especially if South Carolina has to start releasing inmates from prison.

I met a guy named Nick a few weeks ago, and he was what I would call enlightening (to say the least). One of the first things I overheard Nick say was about a girl. He described her as being “of no significant importance.” Of no significant importance. Yowza, sucks for her.

It made me think, though, how many times I might have been described that way. I can think of one time in college, with a boy we called “LB” – but I digress. This isn’t about me. It’s about Nick.

He didn’t stop there. Nick also informed me that all women have some degree of crazy inside of them. Not in a rude way, mind you, he was really quite lovely to talk to. He just said it flat out, like he was telling you what color eyes you have. Like it was factual. He even threw this out there to make me feel better about being dubbed “crazy” by someone I just met. He said, “Take my mama for example. I love her…but she’s a little bit crazy.” The other guys at the table all nodded their heads in agreement. As if to say, yep, you’re all nuts.

This statement also kicked my brain into gear. Can this be true? Are we all just walking around seemingly normal, with a layer of crazy in there somewhere just waiting to peek through? I mean, on a day to day basis, I’m certainly not a psycho. Admittedly, though, I have had my moments. A night that is well known throughout my circle of friends as “the night of Mandi’s psycho monologue” pops into mind right now, and incidentally it involved the aforementioned “LB.” Connection? Made.

If Nick’s theory on crazy is correct, I really hope I’m like 98% normal and 2% wacky. On his “of no significant importance” comment, I would like to remind any ladies who are offended by this that a lot of women allow themselves to be treated this way. Remember “He’s Just Not That Into You?” It was an eye opener for a lot of women, as I think this quote could be:

“Ladies, let me give you some advice. You can throw all your stupid fucking chick-lit, self-help, why-doesn’t-he-love-me books out, because this is all you need to know: Men will treat you the way you let them. There is no such thing as “deserving” respect; you get what you demand from people…if you demand respect, he will either respect you or he won’t associate with you. It really is that simple.” — Tucker Max (I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell)

Y’all. It’s been too long.

You’ll have to forgive me, but my life is craze to the z right now. Work has been terribly busy, and I can never seem to get everything finished, so I’m there constantly. Not fun.
But, hey, I’m grateful for a job.

I’m in the process of buying a house, and Lawd have mercy – there’s a lot to do there, too. Meet the home inspector, then a roof inspector, then a chimney inspector. I would not be surprised if there is an inspector who specializes in inspecting the inspection. Not to mention the meetings and phone calls with the bank and insurance agent. Not fun.
But, hey, I’m grateful I am in a position to purchase a home.

What is fun, though, is how close I am to becoming a home owner. It’s a mixture of pride and fear that is hard to describe. A million thoughts go through my mind about that house every day: Am I making a mistake? Will it have good resale value? What if this goes wrong? Then, I remember to breathe, and I answer myself: No, you love it, it’s perfect for you. Stop worrying about selling something you don’t actually own yet. You’ll just get it fixed.

My Dad says I’ve lost my mind for buying an 88-year-old house, but I beg to differ. Sure, she’s old. But she’s got style. And charm. And at 88, I bet she’s just as pretty (if not more so) than when she was 15, or 20, or 30.

I want to be just like her.

It’s that time of year, again. The time of year when Spring is peeking through, the rain is here and the flowers will follow, girls are putting away their sweaters and breaking out the dresses, the days are a little longer…and moods are lifting right along with the temperatures.

And if you live in or near Augusta, Georgia, the time of year has arrived when everyone and their brother begins to ask you, “Hey, can you get me tickets to the Masters?”

See title. That is when I can get you tickets.

Of the United States of America, not like President of your company, ok?

Look, I’m not the best at the shout outs. Forgive me, I promise to do better, blah blah blah.

Happy Belated Birthdays to the following people…
Amy (her son Henry had one, too!)
Colleen (she’s also expecting!)
Austin (she’s a lawyer, we were roomies in the ghetto once, no babies, but an awesome dog named Bates)
Leigh (Leigh Leigh and I were in ADPi together, she’s seriously pretty and funny – and a lawyer, too)
Beth (she also gave birth to another baby boy, and named him Sims – how cute is that?)
Ginny (also known as Jenny Woodrow for reasons I can’t disclose, a much better writer than I could ever dream of being – and former roommate and illegal alien)

Today is Friday the 13th, and also my Benton’s birthday. She’s 29, blonde, hot, has a pet pig named Gus, has traveled everywhere you can think of, can’t dance (but does anyway) and is as sweet as she is pretty. Ifshelikesyou, that is. It’s a joke, B – you are incredibly sweet and I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. Happy Birthday!

yay for:
my dog looking annoyed when the alarm went off this morning
beautiful weather
ruffle front blouses and big gold earrings
understanding and supportive parents
sugar free oreos in my desk
the sweet man who let me cut in front of him while buying coffee
text messages with Edward that make me laugh
finding two unused gift cards
helpful co-workers
a heavy eyeliner day
pandora radio
this lotion that not only feels good, smells good
making plans for lunch that don’t involve eating
blackberry messaging (as if i needed another addiction?)
not being this guy or this one, either
more daylight at the end of the work day
being excited about seeing my favorite people this weekend