A variety show, of sorts.

Starring: my Middle Finger. I've been using it a lot lately, in many forms.

Curtain.

The Verbal Middle Finger
Implied by the tone of my voice. Used in various supermarket encounters with rude individuals and also on the phone recently with my health care provider.

The Facial Expression Middle Finger
This is a special form of the MF, exacerbated by my dark features and laser beam-capable eyes. This one is reserved for those people that still write checks in the supermarket line and Michiganians that always seem to forget how to drive come the first snowfall.

The Literal Middle Finger
Used during the January 12 episode of Grey's Anatomy. Extensively.

The Body Language Middle Finger
Also referred to as the cold shoulder, though the BLMF is a much more rare creature. This one is typically reserved for meetings during which I am annoyed and also when service providers (see also: stylist, manicurist, physicians) are running obscenely late for my scheduled appointment time.

The Incognito Middle Finger
This one marks some of my best work. I have honed these skills over many, many years. You wouldn't even know when I'm doing it because I'm overtly sweet, as if to cover up the fact that I want to tear your face off. See also: situations in which I cannot win.

End scene.

I think I have a lot of issues to work out.

Off with their heads!

I'm sure it will be changed soon, but I can hit "print screen" faster than a speeding bullet.

People.com should fire their copywriter. Apparently Geico or Allstate need to get involved in the Queen's affairs...

Click image to enlarge.

See, Dad? My CommunicationS degree does come in handy every once in a great while. ;)

Call me Grace.

Mothertrucker.

I fell at work yesterday. I'd like to say that I have some herioc tale of search and rescue--that some rare breed of baby koala was trapped in a tree and I scaled a building wearing nothing but a lace bra and some water shoes to save its nearly-extinct life, but the real version isn't that glamorous. I fell in the loo. Slipped on a little puddle of water by the sink.

I am stupid. And OUCH.

Dear ridiculous heat wave and excessive humidity.

Please kindly piss off.

Love,
Kristi

There's only two things I hate in this world. People who are intolerant of other people's cultures and the Dutch.

I also hate liars, coconut (the food, not the lotion), cats and hangnails.

But moving on...

I went to the North American International Auto Show today, because let's face it, why not? Oh, and probably because it pays the bills... Anyway, I saw this:

WANT. For obvious reasons.

Also? Our dear friends Sarah and Jason were in town last night and we got together for dinner at Rochester Mills Brewery. In the section adjacent to our table there was a speed dating event happening. Oh em gee. It was like watching a car accident in drunk, sloppy, awkward slow motion. So very, very wrong but I couldn't look away. Speed dating. What an atrocity.

Additionally, Sarah crafted me THE MOST AMAZING birthday present, EVER. It's quite possibly the most brilliant accessory I've ever owned. Sparkles. Flowers. Ruffles. (!!!!!!) Pictures tomorrow, promise.

Mi Nombre Es Kristi.

I am HUGE on names. Specifically, the spelling of names. I think it stems somewhere from the deep, dark days of elementary school as a Kristi with a 'K' and an 'I 'and all my dummy friends and teachers getting it wrong. Oh, and the fact that even my own Grandmother writes "Kristy" on my birthday cards. I even get the occasional "Krissy," which just sends me right into a tailspin. True story.

A name is who you are. It's part of your identity, your brand, your essence. And it's also just in good taste to spell someone's name correctly when writing correspondence to them. Martha agrees. So does Prudence.

What's more, some companies make it easier than ever to NOT get it wrong. For example, the corporate email address structure at my casa de employment is first.last@company.com. It's freaking spelled out right there in black and white Arial pt. 12.

So why oh mothereffing why do I get at LEAST three emails a day that begin, "Hi, Kristy..."

It grates on my face.

To take it a step further, most people are repeat offenders. I make it a fairly obvious point when I reply to sign my response "Sincerely, KRISTI." But still, the y's keep coming.

In other news, we now have two clippers on the floor. TWO! We have the repeat offender (who was previously outed) and now someone we shall dub "the new guy." I think they operate in tandem just to try and kill me. Offender #1 operates on Monday and Thursday and TNG is usually a Friday afternoon clipper. It's my own personal hell.

Spelling names correctly and keeping your personal grooming habits confined to your home life. I don't ask for much.

I Go Walking In My Sleep.

Meh. Today was Day 2 of Bootcamp. Katie (also known as "world's most evil trainer") made us partake in a loverly little obstacle course with a dash of circuit training thrown in.

Here's what I've learned so far:

• Running up and down steps sucks a great deal of ass.
• You use your hamstrings for ev-ah-ree-thang. I know this because I can FEEL them. Even when I don't move.
• My triceps? Weak as a kitten.
• 5:30 a.m. isn't so bad. Like, on a scale of 1 to Hiroshima, it's like a 5.2.

And let's just be clear on one thing, shall we? I do not desire an early morning chitty chat on our mile run warmup with the cheerfully disgusting and skinny LAWYER with perfect hair, booty and adorably matching Puma workout gear. I don't want to hear about your OPTHAMOLOGIST boyfriend or his perfect life/hair/ass/car, either. I just want to run, hating you all the while for motivation to keep going. Mmmmmkay?

TRAGIC.

NOTE: PORTIONS OF THIS POST WILL BE WRITTEN IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE I AM SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS AND THROWING A MAY-JAH TANTRUM.

'GLEE' IS HOLDING OPEN AUDITIONS FOR SMALL ROLES TO BE FILLED THIS SEASON.

THE AGE RANGE IS 16-26.

I AM EFFING TWENTY EFFING SEVEN.

EFF. EFF. EFF.

Does it help that I LOOK twenty six? Honestly, I could probably even pull off 16.

And for those that don't know me IRL, I really can sing. Truly. I auditioned for American Idol's fourth season and the judge told me to take my voice to Broadway and win a Tony. Not bragging, just the honest to goodness truth. I just never had the balls to pack my shizz up and move to NYC. Scary!

But 'Glee'...oooohhhhh, to be on 'Glee'. What a DREAM!

To bad I'm too stinkin' old to do it.

I Just Can't Quit You.

Well, I've officially given up on TheBump.com Mommy Blog awards.

Upon further review, the Mom from the blog that's currently in first place in my category is offering to give away 2 iPods to her readers if she wins the $1,000 prize.

I could bribe my readers, too...but there's just no way I can ever catch up to her 432,614,234,907,657 votes.

Oh well. We tried. And as they say in the business, "It's an honor just to be nominated."

Gag.

McFunny.

This summer I became a VIP customer of the Mickey D's down the street. Their supa-sweet $1 any size diet delicousness combined with the convenience of a sleeping baby-friendly drive-thru was an offer I could not refuse. I'm not joking when I tell you they knew me by name.

So imagine my surprise when I drove thru last night to get my fix on and the 17-year old acne machine on the headset tells me my order of a large diet Coke will be $1.69.

*cough* "Say what? Shouldn't it be $1.06?"

"Sorry, m'am. That promotion ended Monday."

Two things wrong with the above: 1) He called me "m'am." B) I'm being forced to part with $0.63 thatI know that a mere 3 days ago I could have kept in my l'il pocket. So uncool. Alex needs to go to college, people!

In addition to the above insanity, I find the current pre-recorded welcome greeting on the drive-thru to be absolutely heeeelarious. They're promoting the new Angus Burger, but the recording sounds like, "Welcome to McDonald's. Would you like to try our new Anus Burger Extra Value Meal today?"

And all I can do is giggle.

Today's Tidbits.

This afternoon I was gracefully perusing the internets for the telephone number to a local QDoba for the purpose of ordering lunch, and came across this: http://www.qdoba.com/locations.aspx.

Um. Hello?!? WTF is up with Michigan? Did the creator of this graphic ever even LOOK at a map? It's a shameful disgrace to our pleasant peninsula...not to MENTION the fact that the entire UP is MISSING. MISS. ING. As in, it's not there!

I write for a living. I'm good with words. You better believe QDoba will be getting a strongly worded letter re: this shittastic map from yours truly.

Some people's kids.