The sole reason I stay out of reptile exhibits is because I don’t trust ’em. I don’t trust a reptile as far as I could throw one. They’re sneaky and slithery, and some of them are quite deadly. Like some men I know, but I digress.

When I saw on the Today show that a cobra (yes, a freaking cobra) had escaped from the exhibit at the Bronx Zoo I felt two things: justification and terror. If I lived in the Bronx, I would be a complete basket case. I realize that’s a ridiculous statement, but it’s true.

Anyway, some genius decided they would create a Twitter account as the missing cobra. And folks, it’s hilarious. I encourage you to get a giggle or two from the snake’s posts about his whereabouts in the city. My favorite one so far is, “City may not sleep, but I’m ready to. Oh a chimney! I bet you bragged to your friends about having a working fireplace in NYC. Hi roomie.”

The big story around my town this week is that Spring has sprung a little too soon this year. (No, for real: It was on the front page of our newspaper this week.) Everything is in full bloom, from azaleas to tulips to dogwood trees. And, it’s beautiful, it really is. But for the city of Augusta, it’s just a tad early.

That tournament hasn’t arrived yet. But, never fear. If you’re the Augusta National, no biggie. You just throw some ice on those suckers and make your own Spring. Nope, I’m not joking.

It’s so amusing to be a resident of this wonderful city and see how it changes for one week out of the year. We go out of our way to make sure that the people who come to experience the greatest tradition in golf are not disappointed. During Masters week, everything is first class, every person is polite, every restaurant and bar is packed…even the strip joints are packed with patrons. (They even bring in prettier girls for Masters Week. I hear the pimps do, too, but I digress.)

For one week out of the year, Augusta, Georgia, gets a whole lot of attention. (And a whole lot of positive economic impact!) Sure, us locals will be glad when things return to business as usual, but don’t let our complaining fool you. We love our city, we love our tournament, and we love that everyone else loves it, too.

This time of year, I bet ole Bobby is in heaven grinning from ear to ear.

So, in addition to Charlie Sheen, I also gave up fried foods for Lent. Now is probably a good time to tell you that I’m Baptist, and we don’t typically give up things for Lent. But, seeing as how my boyfriend is Episcopalian and that everybody and their mama gives something up for Lent, I decided to jump on the bandwagon.

If you are familiar with my eating habits, you know that foods dipped in batter and then fried in oil are a big part of my life. Especially fried chicken from Zaxby’s. I’m also quite the consumer of chicken wings, onion rings, fried okra and fried zucchini. I’ll basically take anything fried, dip it in ranch, and be one happy lady.

Life without fried foods is dull, y’all. I realize that it’s better for me, but every time I order something instead of what I would typically order…a small part of me gets mad at Jesus. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I don’t get mad at Jesus. I get mad at Ben.

yay for:
the snooze button
beautiful sunshine
lunch delivered to my office
azaleas and dogwoods in full bloom
friends who make me laugh
online shopping
an episode of glee tonight
my dog, the bee chaser
fun text messages
black pencil skirts
cold diet coke
co-workers who sing in their office

Priority: something given or meriting attention before competing alternatives

I don’t mean for this to sound as self-absorbent as it’s going to, but: I have a lot of friends. I do. I love making friends, I love spending time with friends, I love being loyal to my friends. I also love the organizations I’m apart of, the committees I sit on, my job, my family and my dog. And sometimes, it’s really hard for me to find a proper balance.

Perhaps it’s the “people pleaser” in me, but I hate telling people no. I don’t like saying, “I can’t be there” or “I can’t help you” – it makes me feel like I’m failing the other person, and who wants to do that? But, lately, I feel like I’m spread so thin that I’m not giving enough of myself to anyone or anything I love. Why is it that when we try to please everyone, we end up pleasing no one?

After lunch, my co-worker handed me a piece of Orbit gum. The flavor caught me by surprise, as the color of the gum was was white, and I didn’t expect the cool minty rush that took over my mouth. This flavor was familiar. What was it? Where had I tasted this flavor before? Aaaah. Got it.

“This gum tastes exactly like the gum I used to chew in high school before a make-out session.”

Last week, my dad came to town to bring me some items to donate to the Junior League’s Attic Sale. When I asked him where we should meet to make the exchange, he said, “The Goodwill Store.” When I got there he came out to the parking lot and ordered me to go inside to see something he was thinking of buying. Intrigued (and a little scared), I walked in. He took me over to the shirt section…all the while telling me how he had promised himself he wouldn’t even look at the shirts because he had enough at home already. (After all, Mr. Fashion has that sweet denim one in his closet, remember?) He pulled a red shirt off of the rack, and much to my surprise, it was nice looking. A button-up red shirt with a Georgia “G” embroidered on it. Well played, Dad.

When the stars line up
And you catch a good break
People think your lucky
But you know it’s grace
It can happen so fast
Or a little bit late
Timing is everything

You know I‘ve had close calls
When it could have been me
I was young when I learned just
How fragile life could be
I lost friends of mine
I guess it wasn’t my time
Timing is everything

Well I remember that day
When our eyes first met
You ran into the building to get out of the rain
Cause you were soaking wet
And as I held the door
You wanted to know my name
Timing is everything

Woke up.
Put on robe.
Let dog out.
Made coffee.
Filled coffee cup.
Walked upstairs to get in shower.
Made it four stairs.
Fell.
Coffee flew everywhere.
Cursing begins.
Legs start bleeding and swelling.
7:00am.
Monday.

I was trying to avoid addressing the subject of Charlie Sheen, but it looks like he isn’t going to go into a coma as early as I expected him to. (Yikes, was that a little too cutting? Oh well.)

If you looked up egotistical manic addict in the dictionary, you would see a photo of Charlie Sheen. The man has taken to calling his girlfriends “goddesses” and himself a “warlock” with “tiger’s blood.” And, while that’s all kinds of crazy and weird, it’s also quite entertaining. I find myself turning the channel and then switching it right back, the way I do with scary movies. Pathetic? Absolutely.

Somehow, Charlie Sheen has turned me into a Charlie Sheen interview addict. If he’s done it to you, too, click here for a compilation of “No, really, I’m not smoking crack anymore” interview highlights.

Side note: I saw an interview with one of the “ladies” he had over to his house during a binge party. He paid her $30,000 for 3 minutes of “alone time.” Ten thousand dollars per minute, folks. I bet Oprah is pissed. It takes her at least 5 minutes to make $10,000.