1/27/2006

"Jack Twist. More like...JACK NASTY."

I'm going to start this post out with something disturbing. Last night, I zonked off to beddy bye land and started to dream. THIS WAS NO HAPPY PONY KITTY UNICORN DREAM. I dreamed that I was in this straight up western ghost town with Brian. And we lived there, but were still touring it in this large yellow school bus. All of the sudden, Madonna is there and she starts putting the moves on Brian. HARD. And I'm just sittin' there in this bus seat thinking, "Holy Cow!".
I'm sure Madonna will not change Brian's undying love for me, when all of the sudden, Brian starts giving me the obvious signs that he clearly does not love me, he loves Madonna. All the sudden, Brian just starts yelling at me and fighting with me whenever we talk, and meanwhile, I see Brian and Madonna EVERYWHERE all over this ghost town. Like tickling each other while having drinks at the saloon, throwing dirt playfully at each other in front of the one room school house, and he was whispering sweet nothings into Madonna's ear at the general store. So Brian ends up with Madonna and I just remember waking up so sad because the Material Girl had stole my husband.
Brian had to tell me it wasn't true at 7:03am.

Moving on to more important things:


On Monday, I did see the ever-famous Brokeback Mountain with my pal Jana. Brian would rather have his privates ripped off, rather than take me to a movie where men kiss. Moving on. When someone asks me what I think of it, I honestly don't know what to say. Was I sick of hearing the same instrumental piece every 10 minutes in all of the key places?
Did a character ever SPEAK in the first 15 minutes? Did I hurl when I saw the Princess Diaries boobies? No, but seriously, it grew on me. Of course, me and Jana, being the professional movie researchers as we are, certainly did bust ribs laughing at the man on man humpage. But the scenery and the ending kinda grabbed me, to a point where I forgot that the aging Jake Gilyenthaldglkdhjl did have a pornstar mustache or that Heath Ledger's mouth closed more and more while he talked throughout the movie. But when someone asks me how it was, I just have to tell them to go see it.. cause I can't really describe it. It definitely has a good message and I thought it was a tad gripping.
What do you guys think? Those of you that have seen it, the comment box is open.

Also, Fun with Brokeback Mountain (click here)

Have nice weekends. I've become a psycho cleaner.
To both Laura Hall's- Brian and I are yearning for visitors.

1/24/2006

A Doozy.

Well it's after dinner and late...I just told Brian that I need this double chocolate cookie because the gym owner asked that I DECREASE my foot speed because, apparently, I was ruining the treadmill with my lightning-fast speed. Now, I blog.

Last time I left you, I was preparing for the NAMM show, the largest music tradeshow in the US, of the year. Holy Bejesus. I cried before Brian dropped me off. I just didn't think I could make the flight without suffering from heart explosion. I also didn't really feel mature enough to travel by my lonesome. Well, off I went. Thank God for the Council Bluffs Gramma who talked to me on the flight to Denver. She was like my flight angel. Ate some cold McDees in Denver and then boarded the death mobile to Annaheim CA. This flight, there were no talkers. The pilot had apparently forgotten that he was indeed, NOT the Red Baron, and I literally was thinking about my death by plane, when, I just blurted something gay out to the lady next to me. "Are you from California Is it always this bumpy Oh my lands." Yeah, she barely exerted enough energy to move her mouth when answering. I knew i had no chance with her. It was quickly becoming apparent that I would outdue my California counterparts in the friendly category. Except, for the lady on the other side of me, who's light above didn't work, so she used what she could of mine by basically humping my shoulder.
It was a really good flight.

God, so I was there. On the sweet ground. So, I was a little late due to some delays. Sweet cousin Matt picked me up and even walked me up to my Hotel room. It was obvious in the first few minutes of my time in the Marriott, that this would be one sweet experience. At any given time, 10,000+ people were walking around this enlarged-like cul-de-sac that was made up of the convention palace, the Marriott, and the slutty Hilton. In my lobby, there was a stage set up that looked like the Super Bowl Halftime Show. It was unreal and it sounded good as live music poured through the place. So, I basically spazzed out and did some makeshift ironing and made my way down to our parlor room for the last half of a party we were hosting for Editor's Choice winners. Publisher man gave me a bear hug and I was quickly introduced to people that I had talked on the phone with 60 times daily for the past three years, but never had seen what they looked like.

It was a sweet night...even after Publisher and Sales Rep man took me over the the Hilton because I needed to "experience it". We entered the lobby to find the same superbowl set-up, obviously a younger crowd, and oh, Asian-naked cage dancers grinding like this was the last time they would see the light of day. And there MAY have been some video taking by one of my associates.. for "research purposes only". So the rest of the night was spent getting an education at the Hilton. Then I went to bed.

The next morning, I woke up at the crack of ten, headed downstairs to the Starbucks (thank you Jesus) that was inside the hotel lobby, and pretended to look important. Yes, this trip was mainly an independent one.
Then I headed on over to the show, held HERE:


Doesn't the building look so shiny and new and like you want to lick it? God, it was massive.
I can't even tell you how big the show rooms were or how many halls they had.
All I know is that it was like the opening ceremonies for the olympics times 56. I had made it to the big leagues.

Most of my day was spent walking around and looking at the booths (my advertisers), talking and meeting members of the EM staff, basking in the 65 degree sun, hunting down famous rock stars, and manning the EM booth. I'm not gonna lie.
I felt so cool. I felt like I never want to have another job in my life. Not when stuff like this happens to you:

Never you mind that I look like I'm about to lead a safari through the drylands of Africa, that's the "Ear" from the Hearing Institute. He was foamy and I was thinking that I needed this picture solely for the blog.

Now, I mentioned that I saw famous people. Most of the famous people, like Dave Navarro and Dee Snider
(Twisted Sister) came on the weekend. But, I did meet Rick Springfield, people:

He just said the F word about 4 times and then put me in gripping headlock. Then, I achieved a dream of mine:

Yeah, I know. I also saw Wes Borlen from Limp Bizkit:

He's the weird bassist that paints his face for every concert. Yeah, he looked like butt. I also stood right next to
The Used's bass player at Starbucks, my sales rep thought he saw Bono, and if you guys care, I saw Suzy from the Rockstar INXS show, twice. I also saw a lot of people wearing little clothing, lots of interesting hair, and guitar cases that look like coffins.

Later that night, we had our second party with a band that I had never heard of:

Oh wait.. Father Time/ZZ Top, Michael Jackson, and John Lennon. Here, I also met a chick that produces the grammys, George Lucas's right hand man, and the Marketing Director/Promoter for Toto. Yeah, I talked to him for like 70 hours. He was a close talker and I don't think he understood that I needed to fill up on those little crustinies at the food table IMMEDIATELY.

More of the Hilton, more schmoozing, and oh, I almost forgot, a late sushi dinner in which I was offered to join some advertisers upstairs to help "pollute the air". Right.

The next morning, I toured around for another few hours and then hitched a cab to the airport. Fearing for my life, the driver pushed me in his cab and screamed out the window "SHE IS MY PERSONAL FRIEND" and sped off to the freeway where smoke started to barrel out of the dashboard. Good thing he stopped on the 18 lane super highway to pop the hood. Anyways, the plane was delayed and cousin Matt wisked me away to tour Orange County, the Pacific Coast Highway, and to eat animal-style at In and Out Burger. Also, I saw quite a few low-rider bikes.

Finally, like a pro, I was flying back through the skies, getting more delayed, talking faith with the nicest Wichita dad I've ever met, and back down in my Omaha around midnight, to meet this rowdy bunch:

Yep, we hit the Taco Bell hard after a late night at the airport.
Then after a few solid hours of television analyzation and tilda discussing, we all hit the sack.

The next day, we had a tasty meal of salads at Charlston's and went down to shop our pants off at the Old Market.
I proceeded to buy everything that was ever made, while also embarrassing Brian as a wife and lover:


Melissa bought the crap out of Omaha cards and assorted paper products, while Steph continued to insult us by wearing her jeans down to cover her boots. Later that night we dined at Roja where I set the world record for fajita consumption. Then we moved onto Red Lounge:

I can truly say that I love you girls. You rule because we don't have to dress up in going out clothes (pink and grey tennis shoes are okay), We can gorge ourselves at restaurants (Steph, I threw away your enchiladas in the mail room trash at our apartment), and we can seriously have the most hilarious and satisfying time just talking like nuts (poor little Brian's ears).


And even though I got beat with the ugly stick, you guys still care.

The night at red ended after we saw some guy take his shirt off and dance behind the bar,
while some lassie across the way enjoyed a nice railing in the tail:

Then, might I say, the night took a turn for the nasty. Literally. All I know is that it involved a lot of this:
And this:

Needless to say, there was some serious XBox karaoke duets and also I lost my voice. Please. Enjoy.
"The Spirit moves me":


Steph isn't in these pictures because she's too busy in the closet with my bra.



You loyal readers better comment. This post was exhausting. I do it all for you.
Now I'm going to have my 5th cup of lemonade and call it a night. It's good to be home.

1/17/2006

Holy crap.

Off tomorrow to California. For my first official business trip. I feel like I'm Sally talking to Felicity, here. I'm not going to lie. I am pooping in my pants, I'm so scared. Jenn does not travel without buddy or husband. Tomorrow I go: unleashed out into the West, brushing shoulders with Stevie Wonder and Tommy Lee at the largest music tradeshow in the U.S. I hope I dress right. I hope there are no awkward silences while I meet the people that I have been talking on the phone with thousands of times, but never seen their faces. I hope to gather as many autographs and personal celebrity pictures as possible. Heck, Brian said I should even get a new purse for the occasion. God, I hope I wake up on time. I'm literally sweating bullets over here, but not to worry, with my trusty laptop, I may be able to post at night.

1/10/2006

People! There was some juicy TV on last night for your viewing pleasure.

My night first began with the premiere of the Bachelor. This one was special because it was the first season in Paris, but it was specialer because my dear friend and yours, Miss Lisa Forbes, was representing the OMS Knights/BVNW Huskies with her appearance as a CONTESTANT. Representin' a little OP in Pairee!


Ah, the days of horses and the lunch table club are long gone..

For some reason, I'm scared that she might google herself and end up at my blog and then she'd find out that she set the world record for the amount of times someone can say the word 'nice', or that she had a lot of junk in her trunk when she turned and walked up the stone stairs, or that I actually have pictures of her from middle school:

Look at the way those Halls button all the way to the top!

Anyway, the comment box is OPEN, so Kim, Laura, Court.. go to it, Stewart. But before I close the topic of the Bachelor, let me just get in a few points. Like my husband said, something must be wrong with him if he doesn't have someone by now. BECAUSE THE MAN IS HOT. Second point, what was wrong with the girl from Virginia with the gold sequins dress on. Holy cow? Thirdly, the reproductively ready lady? Woahhhhh. Eww. Who says that her eggs are getting old? And who goes off on the microphone/key grip boy when you still haven't had your fill of whining about how you're a real woman and he is just another man who plays games and doesn't want to hop all over your sick ass.
And Miss Canada, although cute, let us be reminded that she is like 17 years old. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Let's move on to that show on MTV about Ashley Parker Angel. It's so wonderful that I can't even remember the name of the show. He's that member of O-Town that had it all and then lost it all. The spend the first 12 minutes of the show explaining how he didn't like his hair while he was boy banding. Now, it's much more longer and not brushed and makes him tooootallly not boy bandish. He's so hard core now. Then they reveal that he has absolutely no money, his girlfriend is pregnant, and they live with HER mom. I was watching the show this morning and I was literally getting angry. And I wasn't even barely conscious.

1.) He was complaining about having to get a job..also complaining about living with his girlfriend's drunk MOM.
But they want to get a house...

2.) The house requires them to put a down payment of 8 grand down. First of all, never in my life have I seen someone pick a house off the internet, have to only put 8 grand down, have no jobs, and think this is a good idea.

3.) No problem though, if you don't have 8 grand, because you just go to your record label owner
(Blackground Records), sit with him and his gang, cry about how you don't have money to live or feed your pregnant project, and then have him just absolutely FED UP AND SICKENED by how he can't bear to see you struggling to live, and then he just whips out his checkbook to write you a 10,000$ check. And he tells you that the next time he's having trouble in life, just come back to him, cause he won't let you fail.

I can't even stand it. You give it a try. Did anyone else watch? On an un-related note, this weekend Brian and I went with some people to a pricey japanese steak house. Let it be known, I am the only person that can be sitting there, watching the chef cook our fried rice, and then have him smash an egg on the grill and a part of yolk goes stinging and straight into my eye. Only me. Seriously, this is why I need to wear goggles 24 hours a day.

1/06/2006

As much as I don't want to post, and just keep this hilarious gay man at the top of my blog,
I must because I don't want people to come knocking at my door with torches and shit because I didn't post every day.

I'm about to do something really risky and new over lunch. I'm working out over the lunch hour.
DO YOU KNOW WHY I HAVE TO? Brian has suddenly joined my gym and now wakes at the hour of 5AM to go over to the gym and run and carry on in the wee hours of the morning. (Montie, seriously, this is your fault) When his alarm goes off, the only thing that's moving as a part of my body is a big drool bomb sliding out the corner of my mouth.
Then I wake up at the crack of 8 and motor it on over to my home office. The commute is stressful, I know.

So because Brian's company has a happy hour tonight, I've got to work out over lunch because I'll be at happy hour during the normal work out time for me. My arch nemesis better not be there over lunch today. Yesterday I was driving to the gym at about 4:45 and this lady was tailing me for like 7 out of the 10 minutes of the drive. I pull in to the parking lot and she swerves around me, slides into a spot in front of me, bolts out of her car, I realize she's a raging lesbian softball coach, opens the gym door, slams it in my face, and hooks her amazingly huge radio earphones over the LAST MACHINE. Oh, then she sprints to the bathroom where she stays for about 15 minutes. But not to worry, her earphones reserved her machine. I waited to get on a machine for like 15 minutes, finally getting onto the one next to her stupid mannish body. And she smelled. And I gave her mean dirty looks for the rest of my workout.

So last night me and Jana got coffee and saw that Dick and Jane movie. It was good! Really clever and interesting!
PS, I just love Jim Carrey and I need to find a doctor who will make me be Tea Leoni. Seriously I want to swallow her whole. I even kicked the girl in front of me's seat like 60 times, because I'm sorry, I didn't want to watch her and her 12 year old boyfriend make out the entire time. Cool.

Thank graciousness it's Friday. I don't know how I got through the week. Seriously. How will I conquer a whole one?
It will be the test of time.

1/05/2006

Last night, Brian and I went to see THE PRODUCERS.
I tricked Brian into thinking we were seeing Dick & Jane, but I digress. I think he thought he was a little too manly to go see this one, but we both agree that it turned out to be an awesome movie. No one is too cool for musicals. I think our favorite number was "Keep it Gay". Seriously, people. The choreographer in that scene looked like he stuffed the Sears Tower down his pants, he had that big of a bulge...in tight purple velvet leotard pants. It was seriously hilarious. Also for the fact that the entire theater club of Nebraska walked into the room just before the previews began.

The new pottery barn catalog just arrived. Smells like excitement.

1/03/2006

Ok, last time I checked, blogging was cool.

Happy new year, folks. As I told Amanda Huginkiss, I'm coming back in this new year kind of like Mariah Carey came back after Glitter. Pretty soon my life will be like I can't sleep at night cause Bobby Womack'’s on the radio..singing to me "If You Think You're Lonely Now...Wait a minute this is too deep...I gotta change the station.
Ok, so maybe not really, but atleast Stephen and Laura won't pester me anymore.

So a lot has happened recently, and I'm sorry for not documenting all of it for you. I did have those wisdom teeth out and I've told people that I literally think it would have felt better to have 5 grown men hook arms and walk out of my vagina. I still haven't chewed gum yet. Try going to your in-laws for your first new Christmas and your stomach is crying out so loud while you are surrounded by all of the most tastiest in holiday treats, and you get served with your 4th bowl of chicken noodle soup. One night, near the end of the visit, I did discover that my mouth could tolerate meat balls. And meat balls I ate. Seriously, like 26 of them. And they did not give me the poops, either. I was on my way.

But let's back up before Christmas. To a little time I like to call "Don't ever check your Coat". No need to re-hash this trip to Lawrence and onto Chicago.. Bottom line is, I pay 15 dollars worth of cover and a dollar to check my north face and then some little ditz-head gives it away to someone NOT holding the ticket, like I was at the end of the night. I don't want to know why they knew, but turns out they found the lad that had my coat, and 6 years later,
I have my jacket back and I will never give them service again.

Also, you might be interested to know that I met MJ from the Real World/Gauntlet II/Turd of the World. Me and JC (Steph, not the Lord) went out on the Lawrence town and why don't I just shut up and get to the meat of the story.

(the coveted pictures)

Ok, so Christmas was amazing. Actually, I spent the first one away in St. Louis. It was so perfect. White snow and Brian. And his family. And I helped his sisters make homemade egg nog and chex mix while discussing the sicker side to having a baby. A little while after, we went to KC for round two. When I called Dad on the real Christmas Day he told me that "we've started a new tradition in the Hall household..everyone that's present gets a free automobile." That John, I tell ya. I really did get a ton of nice things. Gift cardscrapbookinging startings, cool black and whites of KU in the snow (already hanging up in the kitchen Laura I love you) a kitchen aid mixer! itunes card, magazine subscriptions, and even one of those machine that heats your egg while it's toasting your bread AND warming your sausage patty in the little additional compartment. And you can't beat that with a stick.

So, onto new years. First Scott party. God, I'd have to say that you all missed out. It was so great. I was very happy. Literally, feast your eyes on this:

Seriously, if you haven't come to Omaha to visit, we treat our guests well!

Beverage Station pictured here:



Coffee table snacks for those who chose to sit and munch:


So, the party started out like this, New Years Itunes mix playing softly in the background..


And eventually morphed itself into this:


Laura Marie, we took this one for you. Replace my head with yours and blow it up, girl.


A tad before midnight we hit up the Red Lounge and THE PHOTO HUNT MACHINE.
Also, pay no attention to my eyes. I look like Tyra Banks got in a car accident with the Moulin Rouge.

(hope you're feeling better, Montie)

Then we came home and somebody decided to put the meatball lid right on my new runner.


And a huge shout out to Plankton, the kissing bandit, working it in picture number 9. So glad you made the trip pal.. You couldn't come again sooner!


So that was about it for New Years. The next day Brian and I watched our Tivo'd Dick Clark Show and saw Hil Duff sing "Beat of My Heart". Except Bri and I turned it into Heat of My Fart, it tears me apart, the heat of my fart.. etc.

I hope you guys all have a great new year coming up. Make some resolutions over an onion blossom at the Steakhouse like me and Brian did. Seriously though, I'm glad the holidays are over, glad I'm eating again, and glad I found my blog.