Gotta "Hand" It To You

I've received some negative feedback about my Etsy soap post. I think should clarify some things.

1. I don't hate all shaped soaps. I almost bought a cocker spaniel-shaped bar for my bathroom to match Sadie.

2. I am not attacking Etsy. The maker of these things is obviously very talented with soap creatures. She has managed to make soap look more lifelike than Mattel.

3. Yes, I get the joke. I know it's "hand"soap. I see the humor; just like Al Gore created the internet, I created puns. I get it, but I can't get over the creepiness.

In other news, I'm currently preparing a double-do-something for BF, Lobster and the butter of Lobster's heart. We have to call it a double-do-something since we aren't leaving the house or technically going on a date. For one thing it's raining terribly here; secondly, Boyfriend and I are being hit hard by the current economy (isn't everyone?), so we're limiting our spending; and finally, Lobster and Butter gave up restaurant dining for Lent. Our night will consist of some meaty hamburgers, fermented grapes, fermented hops, homemade treats and Mario Kart Wii. Simple but fab - these usually turn into my favorite kind of night.

So sorry for the boring, boring post. I've been a bit unblogspired, but Sis called me out on my lack of blogtivity, so I figured I'd go standard today and hope for something more exciting later. Anything YOU would like to read about from this little polka dot? I'd love to read your feedback!

Oh No No No

Maybe I'm naive, but because I am so in love with Etsy, I expect to see stars and rainbows and sunshine every time I discover a new product or user. Well, um, no. Lobster brought these questionable items to my attention earlier. I had been struggling with what to post about today, but immediately I needed to alert you all to this product. Can you imagine a bowl full of these in a guest bathroom? No thanks! Could you consider them kitschy? More like creepy - dismembered baby hands?. My favorite is the seller note:
These are are *completely hand made*, so each set is slightly different with different hand-shapes & skin-ish colors.

Again, trying to control the gag reflex.

Comment Calamity

Since I have had Google Analytics engaged for this blingin' blog, I've noticed a strange phenomena... my site traffic has increased over the past 2 weeks, but the number of comments has greatly decreased. I received a lovely call from my beloved aHr this evening who informed me that she had been trying to leave me comments, but my word verification (I guess this is the default setting because I know I wouldn't have enabled it) wasn't working - I've noticed several other bloggers having the same problem. I've disabled the verification, so if that's the reason you haven't been commenting, it's fixed! If that's not the reason you haven't been leaving me lovely little notes, please leave me a comment and let me know the reason (did you catch my sneakiness in that?)! Happy almost-Wednesday!

True Story Tuesday

In July 2007 I purchased a pink Chocolate at Verizon Wireless, which came with a $70 mail-in rebate. The following Sunday night, I dutifully read the rebate directions, snipped (man-handled) the box, sealed it all in an envelope and dropped it into the mailbox slot of the Raleigh apartment I shared with Miss Lobster.

About an hour later as I was cleaning my cardboard mess I realized in a panic that I had left out a key item needed for the rebate. Our mailbox wasn't very large, so I assumed it would be no problem to reach through the slot, grab my envelope and make the desired corrections. Oooops. Upon arrival at the mailbox I peered inside and didn't see my mail. I reached my hand inside as far as I could manage, but no letter.

I returned to the apartment and summoned Lobster (who else would I call in an emergency? She was also top on my list when I thought I threw a brand new pair of shoes into the large, apartment-wide trashcan - luckily, the shoes were under my bed). Now armed with spatulas, paper clips, wooden spoons and tongs, we prepared for a mail slot battle of the century to retrieve my mail.

We fished out several other residents' mail pieces, but mine was not to be found. After about 10 minutes of grabbing and returning, Lobster and I looked up and spotted a security camera aimed directly at the mailbox. We realized that our harmless activity might actually be interpreted by some to be a felony. We ran away (very inconspicuous) as quickly as we could, and I figured that my rebate was lost forever.

I called the apartment office in the morning to make a final plea that they remove my mail from the outbox and simply place it back in our apartment's inbox instead of sending it. "Absolutely not a problem," was the pleasant reply. Once again, I tried to make something simple into something full of espionage and intrigue. Either way, it was fabulous way for the conception of Maroline's Mail Retrieval Service.

Rule #13... Wiggin' Out

Dear Lovely Woman at the Y,

The next time we happen to be occupying neighboring lockers, please do not remove your wig/ weave thing and place offending hairpiece on my shoes. It will be as awkward then as it was today for me to decide whether to move it myself or ask you to. Faux hair should not be shared; that's wiggedy wiggedy whack.

XOXO,
Polka Dots & Protein Bars

Drum Roll Please...

Congratulations are in order for Jaded Jill whose answer of "Helen Keller" won my SuZBee/Apples to Apples giveaway! As all great A to A players know, Helen Keller is the absolute trump card!

Jill, just send me your mailing information, and I will get your belt to you this week!

Thank you to everyone for playing!

Appendicitis and Internal Bleeding

I like to massage the truth. Not big things but for things that don't even need a story behind them, embellishment just seems to pour from my lips. Maybe that's why I'm in PR. During my last semester at State I was in a semester-long group project class (my face is contorting into the stinkeye at the mere thought). It was highly, highly, highly discouraged for any group members to miss class, and even though it was at 8 a.m. I did very well to play by the rules (I'm a big believer in rules). One Monday night, though, I decided I was tired of playing by the rules. I hated my group, hated the class, hated the project; I had already landed a job upon graduation, so I was mentally checked out. Instead of just skipping or emailing my group letting them know I wouldn't be there, I decided to concoct a story so I didn't seem like a slacker. This was my message to the group:

"Hi girls,
It's 11:00 p.m., and it has already been such a dramatic night. My roommate (Lobster) was having some pains in her side, and I took her to the ER to check things out. After a few X-Rays it was determined that she has been suffering from appendicitis! They rushed her into emergency surgery, and her parents are on their way up from Charlotte. I just came home to grab some things, and then I'm on my way back to the hospital to sit with her until her family gets there. Needless to say, it will be a long night, and it doesn't look like I can make it to class. I am so sorry! You know I wouldn't skip without an excuse. Please let me know what I miss.
Thanks!
PD&PB"

The next day I slept in and had a luxurious morning. I forgot all about my very heartfelt and emotional reason for missing Tuesday's class. On Thursday my partners immediately asked me how my roommate was doing. I couldn't think why they would ask or what might have been wrong with her, and I just replied that she was fine. About midway through class I recalled the appendicitis. I looked at my partners and immediately went on and on about the surgery and the state of her health, etc. When I returned home Lobster was in the kitchen. "By the way," I told her, "you had appendicitis on Monday night." Just trying to cover my bases. Instead of dreaming up this story, I should have told them that one of my sorority sisters had internal bleeding that required a trip to the ER since, which had actually happened the semester prior...

Said sister came into my room (read: 2' x 2' box I shared with Southern Sunshine... trust me, if you can live with someone in such small, ugly quarters and not kill each other, you can live together anywhere) as I was turning off my lights and simply asked, "Um, what do you know about internal bleeding?"  ?!?!  What kind of question is that?  So I told her that I knew it wasn't good and asked here why she would ask.  She explained, "Well, I was running this morning and got hit by a car." ?!?! "The car threw me a few feet and knocked me down, and I thought I was okay, but now I'm scared I'm bleeding internally."  ?!?! I advised her that we must immediately head to the ER for X-Rays. "That's okay," she said, "you can just give me directions to the nearest hospital, and I'll drive myself."  We argued about it for a while, and she finally conceded that I could drive her. 

I left Ave a note explaining my absence:

"Sister X thinks she may have internal bleeding from being hit by a car.  She doesn't want anyone to know about it, but I am taking her to the hospital.  Back later."

I know upon reading that note her reaction was much like mine: ?!?!

After several hours watching Univision in the waiting room, Sister X reappeared and informed me that all was well - no bleeding.  I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or a bit peeved.  She thanked me profusely on the way home, and I assured her that I was happy to help.  Upon returning to my room, Ave and I simply looked at each other and started cracking up.  Now, I don't take internal bleeding or potentially life-threatening situations seriously, but the entire situation and chain of events was just too much for us to handle.  

Sadly, I actually think Lobster's pretend appendicitis is more believable than Sister X's possible internal bleeding.

Noooo Way

There was a third sighting of Old Lady Jenkins and the Pink Poodle. After lunch I rushed to inform one of my coworkers about this crime against nature; I don't think she actually believed me. I received an urgent phone call from her after work, though, excitedly telling me that she had just passed OLJatPP. 3 sightings in 2 days? I feel like I'm stuck in an episode of Lost or something. What does it all mean?!

Okay, Now You Have To Be Kidding

On my way to lunch, I passed Old Lady Jenkins and the Pink Poodle again (yes, this phenomena has become a proper noun, as it should). This woman and her pet just fascinate me. The owner must be at least 70, and her poodle is probably a boy. I just wonder what type of "salon" dyes doggies.

In related news, I am really over old people today. Seriously. Listen, I know you're old and winding down your life, but could you just SPEED UP a little? In every way. Driving, walking, shopping at Harris Teeter... just move faster. I know you're probably slowing down to savor your last years, but really, if you move quicker and work more efficiently, you'll have more time for the things you enjoy most like The Price is Right, water aerobics and bridge. I know my complaints are less than PC, but trust me, I can do worse. And also, to you, old man who is probably married to Old Lady Jenkins and the Pink Poodle, please do not lecture me about the need to wear a coat. I know I seemed rude when you asked me if my coat was keeping the car warm and I didn't laugh, but that's because I really don't understand old people humor. Or maybe because it wasn't funny. Sorry.

These tights must be making me crotchety.

Things That Make You Go Hmmm

This morning on my way to work I passed an old lady walking a hot pink poodle. I can't make this stuff up. Maybe Old Lady Jenkins was channeling Aubrey O'Day, but I doubt she's heard of her. Poodles shouldn't be pink.

I brought my own bottle of Tony Chachere's seasoning and seasoned salt to work today to correctly flavor my lunch du jour of steamed broccoli and mushrooms. I would make fun of anyone who did that. Maybe I should have rethought my meal.

Don't forget to enter my Apples to Apples/SuZBee giveaway!

I Don't Even Get AARP Discounts

I have the veins of a 72 year old. That's no secret. I began this lovely little polka dotted online journal during the midst of a pair of vein surgeries. My healing has been going well, and I've almost retired my compression hose.

Today I went for another follow-up appointment and received 16 injections in my legs. I don't have a fear of needles (I love acupuncture), but the solution they injected made my legs burn... badly. Apparently the shots were an additional measure to ensure that my reflux doesn't return, but this has become a neverending process. I will have to go back in a month to receive more. Fabulous.

Following all of the injections, the lovely nurse (who does. not. smile. ever.) bandaged each site with some cotton and tape. This is all well and good, but someone chose to wear a sweater dress, leggings and f'Uggs to be comfy and unimpeded at the office following the appointment. Unfortunately, leggings and cotton balls do not create a great look. My legs look like they have 16 massive growths all over them. Sexy.

On a positive note, I did receive a third pair of compression hose (nude thigh-highs to go with my black pantyhose and black thigh-highs). I was also told that when I return in March, I will get 2 more pairs - knee-highs next... Deja jealous? I think I'm going to head over to K&W Cafeteria for dinner tonight if anyone's interested.

Rule #12

Rule #12a. It is not wise to pepper spray the family for whom you are babysitting. It is particularly unwise if this family owns the company that your dad, boyfriend and best friend work for. They will laugh it off (after their lungs stop bleeding from the inhalation) and assure you that they're just glad they know that it works, but you probably shouldn't expect another call from them anytime soon.


Rule #12b. Don't forget to participate in my giveaway! Tell your friends!

My First Giveaway!

I have been the lucky, lucky winner of 2 giveaways in the past month, and it is definitely time to return the favor!

I am thrilled to be giving away a Citrus Lava Blooms fabric SuZBee belt... one of the newest patterns for spring!

The rules are simple... as you know I love the game Apples to Apples. In case you don't know how to play, the "dealer" places down a card with an adjective on it, and the rest of the group puts down a card with a noun on it that they feel best matches the adjective. Got it? Okay! So here are the rules...

I'm going to give you an adjective, and you're going to comment with the best noun you can think of to match it. The lovely lady with the best answer by Friday, February 20 will win this fun and fabulous belt!

- To get one entry (one chance to pick a noun), leave your answer in a comment on this post

- For two entries (two noun guesses), comment with your two picks and become a follower/tell me you're already a follower.

- For three entries (three noun guesses), comment with your three picks and post a link to this quirky giveaway on your blog.

Are you sufficiently confused? I hope not! If you have ANY questions or need clarification, please don't hesitate to email me polkadotsandproteinbars@gmail.com. Are you ready to play???

The adjective is LUSCIOUS. Get your nouns ready and match 'em up!

Be Still My Heart

Valentine's Day was beyond perfect. It started on Friday night with a candlelit homemade meal of steak, shrimp, pasta, salad and garlic toast. Boyfriend is a master griller and really outdid himself. He also presented me with a card he made - complete with a wax seal. It is so adorable! We finished our meal with DELICIOUS Coldstone cupcakes (yes, they were worth the 3 store debacle... the flavor I ended up with was not my flavor of choice, but they were divine). Boyfriend had me pick a chick flick, and we curled up to watch.

Saturday morning dawned chilly and rainy, and I woke up early to get a haircut, then B and I were off to our surprise destination. I wore outfit #1 and felt so festive and fun! We drove about an hour and a half, and as the skies cleared and the sun peeked out, we pulled up outside a gorgeous Tuscan villa-style building. Boyfriend had whisked me away to Childress Vineyards in Lexington, NC.

We started our adventure with a wine tasting. We had the opportunity to try about 6 different kinds, and although I drink wine regularly, I am by no means a connoisseur, so this was an educational and yummy experience! After our tasting, we were both feeling... happy, so we signed up for a walking tour of the winery. It was exquisitely beautiful! Since we weren't there during the peak of the season with grapes on the vine, I can't imagine how much prettier it would be during the summer! After our tour we piddled around the store deciding which bottles we wanted to take home. We had a lovely lunch in the bistro overlooking the winery and split a bottle of Classic Blush wine (yum!), purchased two other bottles (Rose and Merlot) and headed home.

After a long nap to sleep off our lovely wine haze, I cooked dinner of chicken and pasta in a pesto cream sauce, garlic toast and, of course, cupcakes and some more wine. We called it an early night since we (me) had had more than enough to drink. We woke up fresh on Sunday for church and lunch with BF's mom, sister, broth

er-in-law and sweet nephews. All in all, this weekend was the best Valentine's Day I think I've ever had, and I feel so blessed to have a love that cares for me so much and spoils and pampers me like I was this weekend.

I'm off of work today for President's Day, so I'll be enjoying a day with Little, Bosley and Sadie complete

with a long workout, Target, a trip to the mall, cooking, baking, and Bachelor with

Miss Lobster. What a fabulous way to start the week!

A rather pathetic attempt to show you Outfit #1. Don't worry, I changed bras, so I didn't actually have exposed straps.

The gorgeous winery!

They don't have grapes now, but they will starting in March or April.

Another shot of Childress Vineyards.

A gratuitous shot of Pupcake destroying her Valentine from me.

It's Hard to Find Good Help These Days

So I'll admit it, I'm baking snob. I don't do things from mixes, and I definitely don't do store bought goodies. I love creating decadent desserts from scratch, and I usually make something for Boyfriend for his birthday and Valentine's day. Well, after reading the rave reviews about Coldstone cupcakes, I decided that I would purchase a pack for us to consume this weekend. It seems as though there are Coldstones in just about every shopping center in Charlotte, so I had no qualms about being able to get my hands on these frozen delights. That is, until I went on a marathon quest to find them.

The adventure started easily enough. I called the location closest to my office to confirm that they had their cupcakes in stock. They responded positively, so after work I followed my Mapquest directions and headed into the heart of Uptown Charlotte. I hadn't realized that that particular location was inside the newest complex in Uptown and the mecca of clubgoers and barhoppers all over town. When I approached the Epicentre, I saw lines of cars just waiting to pay $10 to get into the parking garage. "Forget it," I thought to myself, "I'll just head to the Promenade." The Promenade is close to Little and Daddy's house, and about 25 minutes away from me. Undeterred I ran by my house, scooped up Sadiebug and away we went.

At Coldstone number 2, it was packed. There was one lone creature manning the entire store. Not only was this long, stringy, greasy-haired pubescent nightmare monosyllabic and unable to make eye contact, but he was slower than Methuselah. Literally. I had checked the store's freezer and found only 3 single cupcakes. No packs. When it was finally my turn, I asked It if he had any packs available. "Uhhhh, did you check the freezer?" Although I assured him that I had, Mr. Wonderful went and stared into the freezer for at least 7 minutes before admitting that I was right, and no packs were residing there. After disappearing for another 12 minutes he reappeared and let me know that there weren't any anywhere in the store. The conversation that is documented below is accurate.

Me: Are you serious? This is the second store that's denied me.
Dude: Oh, uhhh, yeah. You should really call before you come.
Me: Well, I have, and your store and the other one assured me you had them.
Dude: Uhhh, you can get cupcakes from lots of places.
Me: Um, yes, I know. I can also make them, but I don't want just cupcakes. I really want these cupcakes.
Dude: You know, I haven't even had them, but they might not be that good.
Me: Mmkay, well can you just tell me where the next closest Coldstone is, so I can try there?
Dude: I really don't know where it is. This is the only one I work at. You could just go home and try another day.
Me: Great advice. Thanks for your help.

At this point I call Lobster and ask her to navigate me to the next location. When I finally arrived at Coldstone #3, I did a slow driveby of the storefront and focused my eyes on the freezer. BINGO! I saw stacks and stacks of cupcake boxes. Elated I walked inside only to be quickly deflated. As I bounded into the store and joyfully approached the freezer I noticed a problem. There weren't any variety packs! No, no, just packs of each individual flavor. No worries, though, because I brought my creative solutions thinking cap with me. I took one box of each flavor to Bimbo and Bimbette behind the counter.

Me: Hi! I noticed that you didn't have any cupcake variety packs left, but I was hoping we could take these boxes and make some together.
Bimbo: Blank stare.
Bimbette: Blanker stare.
Me: You see, there are three boxes here with six cupcakes each of all three flavors. We can just rearrange the boxes to create three variety packs.
Bimbo: Umm, no, we don't have any variety packs left.
Me: Yes, I see that, and I'm trying to remedy that.
Bimbo: Well, we can only sell what's in the freezer, and we only have single flavors in the freezer.
Me: Yes, you're right. But obviously the variety packs are the biggest sellers, so we can make some from the pre-existing cupcakes in the freezer.
Bimbette: Blank stare.
Bimbo: Um, I don't think we can do that.
Me: I'm not trying to be tricky, manipulative or sneaky. The price doesn't change between single flavor packs or variety ones. You are not losing any cupcakes or even any boxes. Changing these boxes will not change anything for you.
Bimbette: Stares of bewilderment or confusion.
Bimbo: ...I just don't think that will work...
Me: Okay, fine, whatever. I will just put these back since they've started to melt and get a new box from the freezer. Is that okay?
Bimbo: Yes. We can only sell what's in the freezer.
Me: Got that. Thanks.

So, long story short, I have cupcakes. They aren't what I wanted. It took 2 1/2 hours to buy these silly, silly things. All I can say is that they better be the best #$@ things Boyfriend and I have ever tasted. And they better be brain freeze-free.

Wardrobe Malfunction

My lovely and fabulous Boyfriend has a surprise date planned for us tomorrow. I am so ecstatic that he has taken the initiative to plan something fun for us! I love surprises, and I can't wait. HOWEVER, I am very stressed about my wardrobe choices for tomorrow. I'm completely in the dark about what to wear, and all I know is that jeans and a cute top is fine, and we're leaving at 10 in the morning (it will also be chilly and damp in the a.m). This leaves room for very broad interpretation. Below are a few options, and I can always run out at lunch (i.e. skip my workout) and try to find something fabulous and inexpensive. What do you fashionable gals suggest?

Option 1:
Hot pink ruffly Target top with cropped black swing jacket, trouser jeans and a black or hot pink bow headband.

c/o Target.com

Option 2:
Pink frilly tunic seen in below picture. This outfit is fairly similar to the one above but a bit more casual. It's hard to see the whole top, but there's some ruffling around the shoulders and detailing down the middle. I'd wear this with dark wash jeans, flats and a headband.


Option 3:
Brown turtleneck sweater dress paired with brown leggings, sweatery f'Uggs and a gold bowed headband. I could also add some chunky, fun jewel-bobs.

Option 4:
Help stimulate the economy and find something new.

Thoughts????

My Nest: The Deets

Thank you all for your amazingly sweet comments on my house! It has been so much fun to go from decorating just my bedroom to translating my style to several rooms. There were several themes that came up in your comments and emails, so I wanted to answer you all at once!

1. All of the walls in my house (minus the kitchen) are painted with Benjamin Moore's Bridgewater Tan. I was nervous to make it such a huge part of each room, but it has been the absolute best neutral. My house gets very little natural light, so I needed something that would (a) reflect light and look bright and cheery and (b) keep my rooms from looking dark, closed in and cavelike. Bridgewater Tan was perfect for both of those objectives. I would highly recommend this color to ANYONE.

2. I love my lime green sofa, too! I got a fabulous deal on this couch. It was a floor model at Tyndall Furniture Gallery in Charlotte. It came with both of the cute pillows, and since we took at "as is" from the store, we were able to purchase it for $400!

3. My favorite piece in the entire house (and yours too, apparently) is my super bright, punchy living room chair. I am seriously obsessed with it, and I hate sitting in it because I just like to look at it! The chair was actually Little's and Daddy's forever. It was covered in a very typical navy with a small nondescript print, but for my birthday in July, they gave it to me to choose a fabric and have it reupholstered. Little and I traveled to the Charlotte area's fabric mecca - Mary Jo's in Gastonia.

I had ZERO idea what I wanted the chair to look like (other than something fun), because I really didn't have a style or color palette yet, and this was going to be my first piece of furniture (we hadn't found the sofa yet). This was the first fabric I saw and fell in love with, but we were both worried it would be too, too bright. We kept it in mind but looked for something equally fun and preppy but a bit more subdued. We scoured high and low for a lime green oversize houndstooth, but we couldn't find anything that wasn't outrageously priced (we're all about the thrift).

We left the store, and finding the perfect fabric became the only thing I thought about. When I finally decided to go for my original love, the super helpful (ha) Mary Jo's saleswoman informed us that there wasn't enough of it to cover my chair. I was crushed. I searched and searched for a replacement fabric, but nothing I found was "it." I finally went to the Mary Jo's Web site and tried to order the desired amount of the fabric online. Voila! That did the trick. Apparently the well-informed salesgirl was too lazy to check their warehouse for more of my darling print.

Finally, after what felt like eternities, the upholstery arrived. It was several more weeks before our trusty reupholsterer Moses finished the masterpiece, but I think it was well worth the wait. The orange leopard print that is on my chair's throw pillow and my coffee table/bench is also from Mary Jo's. Fantastic! It's funny to think that I designed my entire house around this chair - that's a little backwards, I think, but I guess it works for me! Glad to know that you lovelies love this chair as much as I do!

A Tour of the Polka Dot Pad

This post has been a long time in the making. Daddy and I finished painting a couple of weekends ago, and I finally hung my living room curtains on Monday night, which was really a finishing touch. Enjoy a tour through my home!

Hi! Welcome to our home! Please take a seat...

Okay, now that you've seen the living room, let's move to the dining room.

Are you hungry? How about I fix you something to eat?

Ready? Let's head upstairs!

Potty break? I still need to paint in here.

I guess I need a roommate, but the extra bedroom is perfect for storing Christmas decorations!

Let's check out "where the magic happens!"

Love the little embroidered bees!

Think I like a little color in my closet and SuZBee belts much?

Thanks for stopping by! Come back soon!

Rule #11

If a very large (VERY large) woman approaches you at the gym and proclaims that the machine that you have been using for years is actually hers, do not argue. Let her have it. Any opposition you raise may, in fact, invoke a Chris Brown-esque response. Seriously. Take satisfaction in knowing that she needs it much, much more than you do.

True Fact Tuesday

I am Southern through and through. Born in the South, raised in the South, never plan to leave the South. I was born in Knoxville, TN, and you know when your school's fight song ("Rocky Top," natch) is about making moonshine in the Great Smoky Mountains, you're Southern. All of that said, though, I HATE tea, and I really only mildly tolerate biscuits, both of which are Southern staples, obvs.

When I say "hate" tea, I mean loathe, despise, can't stand the taste or scent of tea. I've tried it hot, cold, sweetened, unsweetened, green, chai, lemony, not lemony... it doesn't do it for me. In fact, that only thing it actually "does" for me is get my gag reflex a-goin'.

As for biscuits, um, no thank you. I love carbs. Adore them. Would take a bath in a big tub of carbs. But biscuits are one that I could easily pass up. I prefer them a day old (please not warm) with some honey. I also like my McNuggets with honey; of course, I can also avoid McNuggets easily. I guess that doesn't say much for honey working as a condiment, now does it?

I guess I'll just stick to my one saving Southern grace. Hushpuppies. I would eat 8,000,002 in one sitting if given the chance. Served hot with honey butter, please.





Notice I had to change the title to "True Fact Tuesday," since this isn't a story. This post is a pretty terrible representation of True Story Tuesday. I will try to make up for it later.

Say Cheese!

Jessica from Looking For Angels has tagged me in a cute little game. The rules are simple... you list six things that make you smile, post the rules and then tag six other bloggers to do the same. So here we go!

1. TV - Gossip Girl, Bachelor, 90210, Top Model, The Hills, The City, Biggest Loser, Say Yes to the Dress... it doesn't matter. I'm watching it.
2. Baking - Nothing cheers me up, relieves my stress, eliminates boredom or makes me happy quite like baking. When I bake, I go all out. Everything's from scratch. No Pillsbury dough for this girl.
3. A Great Deal - I never buy anything full price. I enjoy wearing clothes that I bought for next to nothing. I love heading to Marshall's and just digging. I always make Boyfriend play the "Guess How Much This Cost Game," and I hate when he guesses less than I actually spent. That ruins the fun of revealing the actual price.
4. Games - Any kind. Board, sports, Wii, I play 'em all. Apples to Apples is a current fave (file that away... it may come back around quite soon), and Dance Dance Revolution is a classic.
5. A Really Intense Workout - It takes very little activity to make my sweat (what can I say? I have active sweat glands), so I could really make people believe I've completed a very grueling sweat session after only like 15 minutes moderate, but I LOVE being sore. I love pushing my body and truly using it to the fullest. Besides the endorphin rush, it's just empowering.
6. Abbrev'ing - OMG, I love to abbrev. Sure, it might be immature, but I get such pleasure from making words really short. I have to say, though, that no one does it better than my Dad. He's the master abbrev'er.
7. Headbands - Okay, I know the rules clearly state six, but I thought of a seventh. Headbands are a girl's best friend when she's growing her bangs out, and I have so been riding this trend since even before that biotch Blair Waldorf came on the scene (okay, I really love her), but I'm so excited about all the bows and embellishments everywhere. I'm anxiously awaiting a package of several from Forev 21 (did you catch that tie-in from Numero 6?).

That was fun! Okay... I'm tagging...

French Kiss
Displaced Dixie Prep
Quotes from the Queen
Serious Shopaholic
Natalie's Notes
A Nomadic Vissions

Rule #10

When commencing a DIY home project that requires a drill (which you don't have), opting for a hammer instead will most probably ensure at least 2 falls off a chair or bench, 1 sliced index finger, 1 bloody pinky and a result that isn't quite what you had in mind.

Call Me Crazy...

But I think Justin Timberlake is a tool. Arrogant, immature, annoying, not funny. Yes, he is musically talented, but so were Mary Kate & Ashley on their iconic smash hit Brother 4 Sale. Is there something about JT that I'm missing?

VirginMedia.com

Provacateuse.com

YourMovieStuff.com

PhotoBucket.com

A Great Start to Monday

If you have about three minutes, it would behoove and encourage and energize you to check this out.

Sunday Praise

Praise & Worship - "My Future Decided" - Hillsong United

Scripture - "For by grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts according to the grace given us." - Romans 12:3-6

I have spent my week in a funk. I have lost my motivation at work, and basically, I will admit to you, dear readers, I've been pouting like a spoiled baby. This piece of the Word shook me out of my 'tude and made me realize that I have been thinking myself more highly than I ought. I have been considering myself overqualified for the tasks given to me each day, and I have rebelled against that. Whether the assignments I receive are truly utilizing my gifts is a question of its own, but regardless as a "member" of a "body," I must function as such rather than being a hand, wishing I was a foot and trying to walk. Instead of trying to fight, I need to seek the heart of the Lord to discover my gifts and then find an appropriate outlet for those. Let me ask you... has God shown you your gift? If so, are you using it to its fullest capacity? Are you using it to serve the Lord? If so, how?

Dot Dot Dot

I hate strapless bras.

It's Just an (a)Typical Love Story...

I always wondered when I would get around to sharing this story, and now I know! The Queen Bee herself tagged me to play her fun love story game and share with you lovely readers how the BF and I came to be. It's quite interesting, actually... (don't you just adore a well placed elipsis?)

During the summer of 2006, I began an internship in Charlotte at an industrial foundry (don't worry, I still rocked my pink, green and pearls despite the lack of AC and the heavy machinery all around me). I was introduced to my future darling on my second day of work. I knew immediately that we had a connection (I know you know what it's like to just hit it off with someone), but I didn't think anything more because (1) I was tying up some loose ends from a long term relationship and (2) said person was 15 years my senior, and despite the funny stories I tell, I color inside the lines at all times. I follow all the rules, and dating someone that much older than me wasn't even a concept I could grasp.

At the time one of my coworkers informed me that off-limits friend was struggling mightily. You see, his father was gravely ill in a hospital an hour and a half away from Charlotte. Not-Yet Boyfriend would leave work everyday to spend 30 minutes with his dad in ICU and then return home to an empty house (you see, this Insta-friend lived alone, had never been married, had no significant other, etc). My heart ached for him, and I decided that the only remedy would be homemade goodies and Scripture.

The next day I brought some Paula Deen Caramel Apple Cake (heaven in your mouth) and a card inscribed with the Word for him (I didn't know his religious affiliations, but I really felt led to write this particular verse for him). He approached me the next day and thanked me profusely for the words God had spoken to him through my pen and explained how much he needed to read that. After that moment, we became immersed in the Lord together. I would text him verses each time he was at the hospital, and I supplied him with a regular supply of scripture cards. We spent everyday together working and began to get to know each other personally during that time as well. I was so attracted to the heart of this man, but again, I was conflicted, and I knew he was too.

When Nearing-Closer-to-Being-Boyfriend's father passed away, I was heartbroken. I had never met him, but I knew the fierce love and prayer that had been given for that man. BPB was crushed, and we both wept. It was around that time that I knew my feelings for him and his family that I had never met were too hard to ignore. I think he knew too. When we finally acknowledged our feelings for one another and the turmoil we felt, we prayed fervently together and separately wanting to hear what the Lord had planned for us. We both felt an extreme peace about being together - age difference and external judgements aside.

Almost 3 years later, I cannot imagine what my life would be like if I hadn't met this remarkable person who has turned my world upside down. We have been through so much together already, that I don't even know what a stronger foundation would look like. We have weathered an intense firestorm waged by my family in disapproval over our relationship, and if I didn't have such a firm belief and affirmation in our relationship, it just may have killed me.

You see, I have always been a girl that needs her parents' approval (particularly from Little), but when they expressed (forcefully) their feelings about Boyfriend without meeting him, I finally put my foot down. I naively believed that if I put up such a fight they would realize how much this meant to me, but instead I was told I was being misled by Satan. Harsh and highly offensive words. It's been an emotional rollercoaster, by I have such a greater independence and confidence in myself now that I realize that my own morals and values are enough to guide me. My gut decisions and relationship with God are my own - not anyone else's to guide, interpret or judge.

Miraculously (and finally), Boyfriend was allowed to accompany my family to our Christmas Eve service this year, and he and Little met for the first time. The encounter went better than expected, and I even received an email last week from Little suggesting that we all get dinner/drinks together and clear the air and remove the elephant from the room. Change might actually be a-comin'.

Regardless of all of that drama, I value the love story that Boyfriend and I share. We have a deep appreciation for the connection and depth of our relationship. In many ways, he's not the person I would have pictured for myself (I never would have imagined I would be in love with someone 15 years older than me), but in so many, many others ways, he is everything I've ever dreamed of and more.

This is B's favorite picture from my Christmas/Housewarming party. It isn't mine.

We went crappie fishing. So much fun! We had great luck with my pink pole.

This is my favorite picture from the Christmas/Housewarming party. He disagrees.

Absolutely Nothin'

I want to post today. I've prided myself on being consistent and posting every day. My brain is fried mush. I am the least motivated at work that I have ever been, which makes me mad at myself. I'm ready for the weekend - my Sis is on her way home!!! I won't be seeing Boyfriend, which is sad, but I'm excited to have some quality family time. I'm sorry I have nothing amusing, inspirational or candid to share.

I will leave you with a picture, though. This Halloween I decided to dress up (I HATE Halloween... far too scary), so I decided to dress as my pregnant coworker as a surprise to her. We had a party later that afternoon with all of the employees' spouses and children. I can't tell you how many times I got asked my due date - many of them really thought I was pregnant! I hope I look this good when the time comes.

Can you believe Tyra passed on this?

In other news, I wish I could find Dunkaroos somewhere. Vanilla Funfetti, please.

Rule #9

If a new jar of Peter Pan Reduced Fat Crunchy Peanut Butter will not open no matter what you do to it (including your applied extreme brute force), it is not advisable to "cut" or "pry" the top off with a butcher knife. This maneuver may - or may not - lead to near disastrous consequences.

It will also lead you to believe that you might need a new outlet for your stress (since you have vowed to no longer remove your panties). Or therapy.

On the other hand, you will be able to enjoy your peanut butter just fine (you can also dig your old jar out of the trash and replace the frayed plastic shrapnel with the old lid). Congratulations on being resourceful. Or unsanitary.

Sadie Knows Best

No one would mistake my pup for Einstein (maybe Giselle or Heidi, though), but she knows three tricks (more than half the fingers on my hand): sit, stay (sometimes) and lie down. Last night I decided it was time for us to conquer roll over (puddin' spends 70% percent of life on her back anyway, so this one should be easy). I made the mistake of letting her see me put the pieces of treats in my hoodie pocket, so once I stopped her from burrowing her little nose in there, it was down to work.

Poor Sugar was so confused when I wasn't giving her a treat after sit-lie down (that's usually all I make her do). She would repeat the pattern several times in a row thinking that might help. I started making her stay after lying down and would then push her over. The first few times she was so startled, she forgot about the treat I gave her.

She finally got it after about 2 dozen treats (we switched to ice cubes around the 8th one to help maintain her shapely figure). Er, almost got it. Now she will sit, lie down, then sort of slump on her side with her front paws in the air and just wait until I give her a treat. It's definitely not "roll over," but trick definitions are subjective, right? I may not even correct her. Watching her perform so enthusiastically and adorably for only 1/3 of a dog biscuit is good enough for me.

A Love/Hate Relationship With Undergarments

Yesterday my Baby Sis lamented the fact that she has yet to be featured in my "True Story Tuesdays". We brainstormed and realized that we have never been together during an event that would classify it as "True Story" material (trust me, this is a stringent and rigorous set of parameters). While we don't share many hijinks and shenanigans during our time together (which is truly hard to believe), my Sis and I do enjoy many a life episode via text including my new found affinity to discard my undies.*
* please note that this post will be less than ladylike or classy. I am admitting it now.

For some reason as of late, my work stress (which has been considerable) has manifested itself in an overwhelming desire to take my underwear off. In my opinion, the biggest fashion faux pas is visible panty lines. I suspect that few of you would disagree with me. I have never loved thongs nor found them particularly comfortable, but I do wear them on a regular basis with my work clothes, and while I don't enjoy the feeling, I can generally ignore it. That is until the Naked Beast inside of me rears its ugly head and commands me to remove them. On most occasions, I can ignore the urge, but in 3 separate instances now I've succumbed.

When my sister texted me to update me on her goings on, I confessed to her that I went to the restroom, remove said bodily offenders, placed them in one of the brown bags with which each stall's trashcan is equipped, then disposed of the bag in the larger trashcan. Truly, I'm not sure you can comprehend the relief. After the third instance, my sis responded,
"Sis , You cannot keep taking your panties off at work. That is just weird. Way weirder than anything I do."
To which I replied,
"It's nothing to worry about. Little and I went last night to buy five new pairs none of which are thongs, so I'm riding easy today."
Her immediate response,
"Haha I can't believe you made Mom go with you to buy new panties!"

She clearly does not understand the gravity of the situation. Our conversation then dissolved into musings of why she cannot be part of True Story Tuesday.

Sis: Wanna know how I already knew that you ate a PB&B?? Cause I read your BLOG. Too bad none of your true stories have been with me in them.
Me: What stories do we have together that I can share??? I would love to document one or more!
Sis: That's what I'm saying-- We don't have any hilar stories together!!! SADDDDDDD
Me: Let's make some this weekend, homes.
Sis: Hahaha ok. I've been thinking about it all day, because I figured we had to have had at least one really funny thing happen while we we're together.. but nothing noteworthy... I know we have some funnies.
Me: From our childhood. You got much more boring as you aged.
Sis: PAHA AS IF! I have BLOSSOMED with age. You never had this much fun with me!
Me: Because you dressed like a boy.
Sis: Bitch. You dressed like a geek.



I hope I still have followers after this post.

Rule #8

The secret to successfully wearing shoes that are 2-3 sizes too big for you is not wearing white gym socks over top of black (prescription strength) vein hose (particularly if you are also wearing facial bruises from your attempt to eradicate Mount Vesuvius). No, no the secret is to not wear shoes that are 2-3 sizes too big for you at all.

Rule #7

If you are sporting an extra eye on your face, and you decide that it needs popping, you should stop after about 5 minutes if nothing happens. If you choose to continue pressing and prodding, do not be surprised if you are wearing facial bruises in the morning. When people at work inquire as to what happened, and you answer, "I fell down the stairs," they probably won't believe you.

I Didn't Think It Could Get Any Better!

Okay, listen up. I have some breaking news in the world of peanut butter & banana sandwiches. I'm currently tucking into one at my desk right now, and the ladies from the gym have utterly perfected the sandwich. I, like many of you, I'm sure, generally slice my banana, lay the slices side by side and then watch helplessly as they fall out the back of my sandwich with every bite. No more, my friends. You see, the Miracle Team at the Y has added innovation to my dear PB&B. Instead of slicing the bananas, they are now quartering them, so that two flats sides are on each half of my sandwich. This revolutionary idea now ensures banana in every bite and eliminates produce spillage. What could they possibly think of next?

A Double Dose of True Story Tuesday

Now that I've outlined my general experience with my senior tennis squad (the only year I was part of the team), perhaps you will better understand what unfolded next...

All fall season senior athletes were honored during halftime at the Homecoming football game. Prior to the game, the athletes (yes, I was included) were asked to complete a bio detailing our histories with our respective teams, sport and teammates. We would then be introduced and escorted on the field by our adoring and beloved coaches (ha) and then our biographies would be read over the loudspeaker. I diligently filled out my form and returned it post haste, then I anxiously awaited that enchanted Friday night.

When gameday finally arrived, I dressed to the nines and linked arms with Coach Extraordinaire. As we traipsed across the field and reached the 50-yard line, the announcer began.

"Polka Dots & Protein Bars has been part of the Providence tennis team for four years. While she has enjoyed the number 1 rank on the squad for the previous three seasons, she opted this year to allow another player to enjoy time at the top and graciously accepted the last spot. She greatly enjoyed her new role acting as the squad's cheerleader rather than its top points-scorer. PD & PB wants to thank her coach and teammates for being so supportive of this decision."

As the poignant and heartfelt words were delivered, my coach's grip on my arm got tighter and tighter. She was furious, but the student section exploded in applause afterward, knowing the reality of the situation. I guess you could say that my coach got served.

True Story Tuesday

What I lack in pure athletic ability (which is quite a lot, really), I make up for in brute strength and a desire to win no matter what. You would be surprised to know how many teams that allowed me to be a part of in high school. My senior year I became a prized member of the tennis squad. I was ranked 18 out of 18 (can you imagine that I actually beat some girls out for the spot?), until an unfortunate teammate dislocated her shoulder and I was moved to the 17th spot.

Most schools didn't have a squad as large as ours, so I only played singles during two matches the entire season (to put it in perspective, I was allowed to play in the #5 position against two schools because they only had 5 girls each. I kicked their @$es), but I was able to play doubles consistently. We usually were the last pair to play because we had to wait for courts to clear before taking on our opponents.

The best team in our conference also happened to be our high school's arch-rivals (Lobster attended said school, but we were able to put it behind us). Emotions were running high on match day, and no place higher than on the court featuring the face off of the #16-#17 doubles teams. Mind you, we actually pigged out at the refreshment table for about 3 hours before actually taking the court (I gained ample amounts of poundage over the course of the season since, you know, I didn't really play. Who knew tennis players could be benchwarmers?), but these girls were the best we'd played all year, and we were really pumped to be playing such steep competition.

Most of the team was finished playing, and the court lights were on which only increased the cinematic, superstar efforts taking place on our court. Suddenly, I heard my coach call the team together on the other side of the courts and say, "Ladies, that was a great match; well fought. Let's grab our things and load the bus and get out of here and go celebrate." Wait, what??? We were mid-point, but I walked off the court, pressed myself against the fence and yelled at the top of my voice...

"UMMMM, EXCUSE ME?! WE'RE ON THIS TEAM TOO AND WE'RE STILL PLAYING!!!!!"

My coach looked up, baffled and confused, in my direction. "Oh, uh, right," she muttered sheepishly. She gathered the team to our court, and they cheered us on - although no one actually bothered to put their bags down or take a seat.

During a change in courts, I called my competition over and asked them to make the rest of our match as long as possible. They complied, and we engaged in a marathon of rallies, second serves, replayed points and lost balls. I was fuming and sent each balls whizzing across the net to try and release some of my frustration (note: "whizzing," when you're the 17th ranked player would make Maria Sharapova ashamed).

When we finally finished (even more fitting, we lost, which almost made me feel even better), we loaded the bus to go home. My coach didn't speak to me, nor I to her. As I took my seat, I realized that maybe I wasn't made for tennis; I should have been a cheerleader after all.