Crap.  Don’t you hate it when you are that asshole.  You know, THAT asshole that angers you to no end, the one you write about on your blog or call your significant other to complain about what an idiot that person was.

Hi, that was me today.  Sorry for adding to the world of incompetent fools.  I promise to be more careful next time.

On my lunch break, I ran down the street to grab a quick bite to eat so I could get back to the office before my next meeting.  I was sitting at a red light and I knew I would have to make a left turn immediately after the light changed.  Being the person I am, my mind was planning ahead.  I turned my blinker on in anticipation.

Except I failed to realize that turning my blinker on while sitting at a red light makes the people in the turn lane think I want over there.  Duh Megan!  Apparently my mind is not using all of its powers of logic and reasoning today.  Of course I did not realize this until it was too late.

I was honked at.  Not only was I honked at, I received a disgruntled peel out when the other car realized they were waiting on an idiot.  Not only was I honked at and the recipient of a peel out, I made a whole line of waiting cars honk at the kind person who was trying to let me over.  Um, whoopsie! 

So my appoligizies to that guy who was trying to be nice.  I am sorry I acting like your sterotypical, ignorant driver.  I promise that doesn’t happen often.  Really I was just trying to be super prepared for my imminent left turn.

Let’s talk more about party food.  Seeing as how I ate an entire bowl of guacamole for dinner last night, just because I had the avocados available, party food is still on my mind.  Specifically dip.

At the Girls Gone Wild party last weekend, I was crowned the Dip Queen.  I can make a mad 7 layer dip and a mean guacamole.  Add B’s salsa into the mix and we have a pretty strong arsenal of dip.

I added two new recipes into the mix recently and those two additions are what earned me my queen title.

One was a corn, black bean, avocado mixture that was awesome.  I am sure most of you have had something similar before, but this was my first time making it.  And since I couldn’t find a recipe that made it simple enough for me, I combine about five recipes together, thus making it my own.  Being lazy and not the world’s best cook paid off!

Dip #2 was what really clinched the title and I owe it to my mother.  First, let’s look at Dip #2.

Doesn’t look like anything special right?  That is why I am the Dip Queen and you are not.  It is freaking special!  So special I don’t know if I should even tell you about it.  Just kidding.  I will tell you.

You see, my parents moved out of the suburbs of Dallas a few years back to live on a ranch.  Seeing as how they are retired and lived in Dallas for the last 40 years, ranching isn’t exactly what they are doing on their ranch.  What they are doing is growing vegetables.  Knowing someone with an awesome garden is, well, awesome!  I reap the benefits without having to do the work.  Last week B and I lived off of yellow squash.  Fresh from the garden, yellow squash.  You jealous yet?  No, ok, fresh from the garden, FREE, yellow squash.  Better?

My parents’ garden also has an abundance of jalapenos this summer.  This has forced my mom to get creative with ways to use jalapenos, which brings me to jalapeno jelly, also know as how to get crowned Dip Queen at a party.

Pictured above is homemade, fresh from the garden, FREE, jalapeno jelly smeared over cream cheese.  So very simple, and so freaking amazing.  The sweet jelly with a hint of a peppery flavor, minus the spice, mixed with the creamy goodness of cream cheese.  Excuse me while I wipe the drool from my keyboard.

I was just introduced to this heavenly combination over the Fourth of July.  I am now hording jalapeno jelly.  I have two and a half jars left at my house and I have already put in my request for more.  (Hey Mom, I think I just gave you enough ideas to get you through two Christmases and 3 birthdays. GIVE ME JELLY!)

Now unfortunately for all my readers out there, I am stingy and not willing to share my jelly.  You will just have to take my word on how amazing it is.  If you were at the party and got to try it, well that was a weak moment and you should count your blessings.  And Traci, don’t bother trying to call my mom begging for your own.  I already warned her about you.

Mmm, jelly.  I think I know what I am having for lunch today!

I just had to go mouth off to the Internets about how lucky I am and how I rule all things blog contests.  What’s that saying?  Oh yeah,

KARMA IS A BITCH!

Karma is putting my cocky self back in my humble place.  In the form of, “Oh my God, I can’t move my right arm.  Ouch, ouch, crap, ouch.  Breathing is too painful, just kill me now.”

And that was the PG version (you are welcome, Mom!).

It seems I slept funny or did something funny, because as I was brushing my hair this morning, pain shot up and down my back on the right side.  I think I have a pinched nerve just under my right shoulder blade.  The only comfortable position is leaning slightly forward, shoulder hunched at an angle.  Call me Granny!  To make matters worse, my neck is starting to hurt since I have been holding it in odd positions all day in an attempt to dull the pain.  It’s not working. 

Don’t worry about me though, B is taking great care of me, as he laughs and taunts me while trying to help me into my pants.  (Is that like an oxymoron or is it just ironic?)

*This whole post was written on Advil, just wait until I get the muscle relaxers tonight!

Help!  I am in the middle of serious warfare right now.  My pants are revolting against me.  No, seriously.  They have all turned against me.  And shut your mouth, it’s not a busting seams problem.

I wear dress slacks to work everyday.  Since the move I have 4 four pairs of rotating slacks that don’t need to be ironed, add in jeans day Friday and I am golden.  (Everything else is either in a box, or it came out of the box completely wrinkled and I am too lazy to iron and too annoyed to wash perfectly clean, albeit wrinkled clothes.)  Well, since the move my pants have slowly turned against me.  I am down to one pair of problem free pants!

Two pairs, one brown and one black, decided to unhem themselves on the right leg.  Why the right leg?  On desperate days, which is every week, I wear them anyways and just hope people think I have one leg shorter than the other.  Faking a handicap is better than actually doing something about my problem, right?

A third pair of pants decided to unzip at random times throughout the day.  At first I just thought I was forgetting to zip my pants after getting dressed or going to the bathroom.  Then I realized (after this happened many, many times, seriously my coworkers my think I get dressed in the dark and only have half a brain) I wasn’t losing my mind, my pants had turned against me.  By the way, these are the pants I am wearing today.  I wore black underwear and I am obsessively checking my zipper.  Yeah, that won’t freak coworkers out. 

I am going to have to de-rotate a pair of slacks every week for a month to get them tailored.  Either that or talk hubs into giving me a credit card for new clothes.  (Hi honey!  Can I buy new pants?  The guy down the hall keeps walking slowly by my desk, I am getting worried.) 

How come everything hits at once.  Three weeks ago I had four pairs of perfectly good pants, now I am just waiting for the final pair to join the ranks to turn against me.  Darn you super comfortable, but cheaply made pants!  I shake my fist at you.

Do you see a theme starting here?  I do.  Apparently Subway and I have some issues.

I decided to run out for lunch today and grab a quick sandwich.  I wanted to get back to my desk so I could do a little lunch hour reading.  Mr. Subway Sandwich maker had other plans for me.  The dude was on something.  Apparently something good.

After randomly starring off into space for a few seconds, he started the sandwich assembly.  Six inch turkey, on wheat, provolone cheese.  Toasted.  Things were moving along fine when the toaster dinged.  Again, the starring started.  At first I thought there was a hot chick in the restaurant that he was trying to check out.  It was pretty late in the lunch hour and most of the tables were empty.  I spotted no hot chicks.  My Subway manufacturer snapped back to reality and we continued the process.  Lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, banana peppers and lite mayo.

Let me just stop for a second… have you tried banana peppers on sandwiches yet?  You totally should.  This is my new favorite thing.  I just started doing it, literally this week.  It adds a nice zing without being crazy hot.  Yum!

Anyway, back to the dude.  He finally finished constructing my sandwich when he took me captive.  The dude starting complaining about U2 on the radio.  Umm, ok.  Sorry?  What do you say to that?  I didn’t even realize U2 was on the radio until he pointed it out.  Mr. Subway Employee then felt the need to tell me (actually, I am not sure he was talking to me.  I was the only one around to listen, but he wasn’t really looking at me.) about how he hates it when people try to push religion on him.  I think this was in connection to his hate for U2, but I am not sure.  I was more focused on my warm toasty sub gripped tightly in his plastic-gloved hand.  Then the conversation turned back to U2.  Something about Bono and too many people listen to him… blah, blah, blah.  Finally, my friend snapped back and bagged my sandwich and rung it up.  I paid as quickly as possible and got the hell out of dodge.

Now that I look back on it, maybe it was all a tact to try and detain me until the police arrived.  I am The Subway Bandit after all.  I better stick to drive-thrus from now on.

In other words, I have nothing to blog about.  I could blog about my super exciting weekend where I get to meet a fellow blogger, but I am not ready to talk about that yet.  I could blog about how yet again I was right this morning and B was wrong, but that is just natural, nothing exciting.  I could blog about the weather, but I have done that a lot lately.  I could blog about Mother’s Day, but it is still a little early for that.  Oh I know…

How about an amusing story about how I embarrassed myself (again) because I am a total klutz.  Nothing is more entertaining than throwing yourself under the bus.

Yesterday at work, I was getting ready to eat lunch at my desk and I had a full cup of ice and a warm 20 oz. soda.  You can already see where this is going.  Well on my lunch break, I often catch up on my personal email and I read a couple blogs.  I was already engrossed in another blogger’s post when I grabbed the soda bottle and opened it.  Because I was so deeply engrossed I started pouring the soda into the ice cup.  This was when I finally looked down and actually realized what was happening.  The soda bottle was overflowing and my attempts to pour it into the cup were only causing more overflow.  Of course I was wearing a light colored shirt and soda was spilling all over me… and my desk… and my chair… and floor.

 Genius.  This was all taking place while various coworkers were walking by my desk on their way out to lunch.  Trying not to further embarrass myself, I discretely began soaking up soda with my napkins.  I cleaned up my work area, but I had no napkins left for myself.  At this point, I knew what I had to do.  I had to make the walk of shame through the building to the bathroom.  And let me remind you, the lunch hour had just started.  That is prime time for the bathroom to be crowded.

After speed walking while trying to cover myself, I made it to the bathroom.  Amazingly it was empty.  I scrubbed my shirt for a few minutes, applying hand soap and water, and the soda stains began to fade.  Of course now I am left with various ridiculous wet spots all over me.  The one time I would prefer a hand dryer in the bathroom and we only had paper towels.

I sped back to my desk and hid out for the next two hours.  Luckily my afternoon meeting was canceled!  Remind me to start keeping an extra shirt at my desk.  You would think as many times as I have done this that would be standard routine.

It really makes me miss my old coworker.  The woman was queen of removing stains from my shirt.  She had lots of practice in the year we worked together!

Since my wonderful husband outed me yesterday, I guess it is time to confess.  I am the Subway Bandit.  If you don’t hear from me for awhile, the cops have found me and I am not rotting in jail.  I hope you are happy B!

Here is the deal.  One day while on my lunch break, I quickly swung through the Subway drive-thru to grab some lunch.  I might have been distracted on the time because I was on my cell phone talking to my mom.  Yes, I am one of those people.  I go through drive-thrus while on the phone.  How annoying.  Anway, so after ordering and waiting for my food, the Subway employee handed me my 6″ Turkey sub and I drove away.  In my defense, the woman said, “Have a nice day.”  Isn’t that code for, “We are done here.”

My second mistake in this whole ordeal was telling my husband and his friends the error of my ways.  I have still not lived down my stolen sandwich.  Many of his friends won’t go to Subway with me.  They are afraid someone will recognize my face on the wanted poster.  Kidding!  There is not a wanted poster.  Umm, actually that is not entirely true.  I never returned to the scene of the crime so there very well could be a wanted poster.  Crap.

Don’t worry, my Subway karma was repaid.  Not that long ago I drove through a different Subway and my diet Dr. Pepper was iced tea.  Blech!  I hate iced tea.  Out of every beverage they could have given me, that was the worse.  I had to stop at a gas station down to road to buy another drink.  I couldn’t even force the tea down.  Is it weird that I am from Texas and hate iced tea?  That has got to be against the law or something.

So what is in your criminal record?  Stolen gum?  Skipped out on a check?  Umm, if you have any felonies on your record maybe you shouldn’t tell me about them.  Criminals scare me and I would hate it if we couldn’t be friends anymore.

One of my new favorite bloggers, Ashley, posted a challenge for people to show the funniest/weirdest things people have searched for to find your blog. 

Before I go into the crazies, I highly recommend Ashley’s blog.  First, she is an amazing photographer, second, she is very entertaining and she has an adorable bulldog puppy.  What is not to love?  Check her out.

Now, on to the good stuff.  When I first started blogging (five months ago–Can you believe it?), I was obsessed with checking my stats.  Who was clicking, how did they find me, what were my biggest hits… well that got boring fast because no one was clicking, no one found me in interesting ways and I have no big hits.  Fail.  But time has passed and Ashley reminded me how entertaining stats can be.  Here are some of my most entertaining searches:

So what are your most entertaining searches?  Any crazy stalkers reading your blog?  I think it is funny when readers come out of the woodworks.  I have friends who tell me, “Oh yeah, I saw that on your blog.”  What?!?  You did?  You mean you like me, you really like me!  Except I don’t say that out loud, but the thoughts totally run through my mind.

If anyone wants to take the bold step and delurk themselves today, post a comment.  Let me know who I need to stop talking about.  Ha!  Kidding.  Expect that worked on my mom.  She finally figured out I was calling her out for not being my biggest fan.  Now she is reading almost daily.  Shoot.  (But secretly, HI MOM!)

Happy birthday to me,
happy birthday to me.
Happy birthday to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Happy birthday to me.

Oh, um, it’s my birthday. Happy big 2-6 to me. I am officially in my late twenties now. My sister-in-law told me 26 was the hardest year for her. I am not having any problems with this new age. I guess when your husband is 12 years older, you always feel young!

You know who else I am younger than…this girl! Ha, Kari! I am younger than you. Kari and I grew up together, practically attached at the hip, and we just happen to share the same birthday. Despite being born on the exact same day, Kari always insisted on telling people that she was seven or so hours older than me. Well guess what Kari, I am younger! I am going to remind you every single year from here on out!

In the past, Kari has always beaten me to the punch and posted embarrassing pictures of me from childhood birthday parties. Well she promised to be nice this year, so of course I had to seize this opportunity to dig up every picture I could find. Since I am in every picture, it’s just as embarrassing for me.

The skating rink party, age 5:

I am pretty sure in this picture Kari was saying, “It’s my birthday too!”

The puppet show party, age 6:

I am in the green dress and Kari is next to me in the red dress. I told you we were attached at the hip!

The backyard craft party, age 9:

This was my permed hair phase. Also known as the year I stuck my finger in a light socket. Kind of looks like that doesn’t it?

And finally, the sock hop party, age 10:

The four girls in this picture are know as the fab four! We were best friends growing up. Kari and I shared a March 9 birthday, and the other two girls, Lauren and Kari 2, shared a May 18 birthday. How cool is that? See the turquoise skirts? I wish I had a picture of the whole skirt. Anyway, we made those at Kari’s sock hop party the year before, maybe? We were so cool.

So happy birthday to me! And happy birthday to Kari! We were so cool.

Bet you didn’t know that about me.  I am pretty sure this is the first time I have been on television, but my mom would have to confirm that.  (And no, I was not the toothless wonder on the news describing the sound a tornado makes.  Just had to put that out there, this is Oklahoma.)

Sunday, B and I volunteered (volunteered isn’t the best term to use because it was kind of mandatory) to answer phones during our local PBS station’s pledge drive.  My work does this twice a year and since I am the new girl, it was important that I be there.  B was forced into it because of his association with me!  He’s a lucky guy.

We actually had fun, plus they fed us and provided an endless amount of peanut M&Ms for me to devour!  Since B and I are huge dorks, we tivoed the entire thing so we could see how many times we were on tv.  And, since I have no shame, the video has been uploaded to YouTube so I can share my fame (humiliation?) with everyone!

Enjoy!

The second to last clip is the most embarrassing! I look like I just got caught doing something. Good thing nobody over the age of 75 watches the PBS pledge drive. Of course, I just posted this on the internet for all my friends and family to see. Yep, no shame. That’s me!

So who wants my autograph now?