I hire help. I don't do the help. At least, that is what I thought would happen.

Effin' leaves:



Don't get me started on the fact that I had to rake these this year. I mean, I was all for doing a repeat of last year and hiring the help. Apparently, I was overruled.

I'm still bitter about it.

And if you must know, that is 49 bags. Once the rest drop, we'll have about 10 more.

I'm proud to say we are related.

My cousin Carly and her family moved to Phoenix years ago. Like, probably 14+ years ago. Even though she lives far far away, she is the one cousin that I am probably the closest to. I think it is mainly because she is hilarious and posts things like this on her blog.

"Within 5 minutes I had a bite and was reeling the first fish of the day in. Once we secured the fish I stood up and yelled to all the other fishermen within earshot "vagina's 1, penis's 0". I attribute much of my success to my boots!"

Anyone that can contribute an achievement to a pair a boots is my kind of girl.

Needless to say, she's pretty cool. She's always trying to get me to move down to Phoenix. Which, is so very tempting once the snow starts falling. Lately, she's taken to texting me about the great weather that they are having. Just the other day I received the following text from her:

"I'm currently laying outside on my nice green grass wearing flip flops and a short sleeved shirt. How's your November treating you?"

which was followed by this picture & text the next day:

"I must retract my previous gloat about the weather. It's been mid 90s this week. Why God, why? Haven't we suffered enough?"



You see, her failure to remember what a beautiful autumn is like is her fatal flaw. Because when I responded back to her with this picture:


all she could say back to me was:

"bitch"

That response. That response right there is the reason I love her. Nothing says family like a profanity sent over text message.

Excuse me officer, but I think you forgot your pants.

Blog posting has seriously be lacking here at Nat-the-brat. I do apologize. To you my readers, I am very sorry. But never fear, I have an arsenal of posts that will be firing out of this blog so fast you will think that your baby just had a blowout on your computer screen. Sick. I don't know why I said that. Erase that from your memory.

Anyway. Back to this post. So I know the internet is just DYING for another Halloween post. And so, I'll give you one. Well I kind of will, but not totally. I spent my Halloween doing the following:

Breakfast with friends
Pedicure with Brooke
This Is It movie with Brooke
Visited my newest "nephew" Jonathan*
Utah Game
Halloween parties

When at I was at the U game, I was all, "I am SOOOO tired. I have been going all day." And then when I was asked what I did all day and I repeated the above tasks, and then felt completely embarrassed. Really, Natalie? Really? Eating, being pampered and sitting in darkness listening to MJ made you tired? I'm totally screwed for real life. I do realize that.

Anyway, the low part of my Halloween was the parties. I mean, maybe if I had dressed sluttier it would have been more fun. But alas, I am not a slut. Well, at least I don't think so.

I did get my "Border Babe" costume at Blue Boutique (yes, it's debatable. I might be a slut).


However with this costume, I chose to wear pants. You know, like what most normal people do on regular days. But I guess Halloween is not a regular day and people forget their morals, and their pants. Maybe you can tell me, would I have had more fun at parties if I had chosen to exclude the pants from this outfit?

I'm pretty sure the fact that I chose to put on pants this Halloween ensures that no one can call me a slut for at least 90 days. At least.

Hope you all had a fun, and modest, Halloween.


*It's highly likely that by the time I marry, I will be past child bearing years. And so my friend's children are my "nieces and nephews".

If you can't do anything for me, can you give me my money back?

I'd like to thank all my wonderful friends who commented, emailed, called, and text me after hearing about my grandpa. I am truly blessed to have such wonderful and thoughtful people surrounding me.

In other news, I am sick today. I feared I had somehow manged to be infected with the swine flu... Oink! Oink! and so I called my mom because who else does a grown woman call when she is sick? My mother picked me up and took me to InstaCare where I was forced to put on a face mask and sit in the waiting room. In my sicken mental state, I didn't think to have my mother take a picture of me. It would have been a pretty one, I assure you. Next time I'm in distress I'll have someone take my picture so you too can witness my pain.

But the good news is, I don't have swine flu. Apparently, a mild case of bronchitis is what I have. Thank you doctor for telling me that you can't do anything for me. BUT, what you could do is give me back my $35 co-pay and I think we should be good. Mmmkay?

If only I was as talented as he...

All day today I thought about how excited I was to write my next post. It was going to be great. It was going to be on the stupidity of how drunk people act in public and I even have videos to support my claim.

However, I now find that idea inappropriate and meaningless compared to the events that happened today in my family. I type post this with tears streaming down my face and a heart full of sorrow because my dear grandpa Doug left this world unexpectedly today.

My heart hurts for my mother, who lost her father. For my step-grandma who lost her husband. For my dear young cousin (shown above with Grandpa Doug) for losing the only father she ever knew.

Although my time spent with him over my life was not extensive, I still have found memories of him and man that he was. Let us not forget how just a few months ago, he tried to set me up with one of his friends. He was a very talented artist who saw the world and it's beauties in ways that I could only dream of.

As horrible and difficult as the next few months will be for my family, all I can think about is how my grandpa is in a much better place. I'll miss his crazy stories and the $25 bonds he would give us kids at Christmas. I'll miss him telling me "no, I can't give you a painting, I have to make a living somehow." But most of all, I'll just miss him.

Here are a couple of his wonderful paintings:

image courtesy of the Utah Arts Council

image courtesy of flickr.com

I'll see him one day again....and it will be a joyous reunion. We'll hug and cry and be overjoyed to be together again. It's then and only then will I get mad at him for not giving me a painting.

Who needs homemade when you have Great Harvest

Last week, I went to hang out with my recently married from Brooke. She's totally one of those woman who would do anything for their husbands. You know, like get up at 4 am to make his lunch and send him out the door for work. Now that's love. One day, I hope to be as nice as her.

Anyway, while I was hanging out with her she was making homemade bread for her husband. Seriously, she amazes me. Her domestic skills impressed me and I realized that if I ever wanted to keep a man, I better start cooking.

And so, I immediately starting thinking that I should become domestic. It's not that I don't want to be domestic. I just don't have the patience or the skills to really own that title.

And so in my sudden urge to become Goddess of the Kitchen, I starting looking for recipes for pumpkin chocolate chip bread. Because you know, anything with chocolate chips is worth making. So I found a few recipes that looked pretty simple and I starting thinking to myself I would have a night in baking bread. Just call me Martha Stewart.

However, after looking at all the ingredients I would have purchase just to make some freaking bread, I decided that maybe making such a treat wouldn't be necessary. What was necessary was a trip to Great Harvest - where I could purchase a loaf of chocolaty pumpkin goodness and be instantly satisfied.

And that I did.

And yes, the loaf was gone by 5 pm this evening.

And it was delicious. I'll go back tomorrow for more. I suggest you do the same.

I'll also pick up a loaf for Brooke, repackage it like I made it, and drop it at her house. She'll never know the different.

If only this watch could assure safe driving in the snow

I have been on the hunt for a gold watch for a few years. Yes, years. I'm kind of weird like that. I've had this vision of the perfect watch in my mind, yet never have found it. Go figure.

My coworker Sally also had an obsession with purchasing a gold watch. We bonded over our frustrations of lack of stylish, affordable gold watches. And then on one magical day, she got an email from OC Tanner saying that they were having a 40% Off Watches Sale at their outlet store. Who knew OC Tanner had an outlet store? I did not. And this is why I have friends like Sally -to educate me these important facts.

So we left work in the middle of the day because who can pass up 40% off already marked down prices. Well, and our server and internet was down so we couldn't do any work. The stars were aligning.

And looky what we found:

I look kind of pissed in this picture. That is because I realized I had on a silver necklace and a gold watch.

So pretty. AND a freaking steal.

I have now put myself on a spending freeze until I purchase new tires for my car. My tires are completely bald and I kind of fear for my life every time I get in my car. As lovely and nice as it is to have a new pretty watch, I won't be able to enjoy it if I am in a body cast.

This is why I don't allow myself to go grocery shopping

The other day I went to the grocery store to get some ingredients to make cookies. And by get ingredients I mean pick up a package of pre-made cookie dough. I don't have the time to make homemade cookies. Or the patience.

Ok, so there I am with two big tubs* of cookie dough and a bunch of other random crap I really needed** and I notice this display at the end of my aisle.


These displays were created for people like me. The spontaneous/impulsive shopper. Yes, my arms might be full of groceries, but I will put them down to go back and pick up two large packages of Skittles and NEW Gummy Starbursts. That's right, I said NEW Gummy Starbursts. New products are my favorite. And they were gummies. I heart gummy candies.

I am also the type of person that gets in their car and opens up the delectable treat they just bought. I was half way through the package of my NEW Gummy Starbursts by the time I made the 0.5 mile drive back home. And you know what, they were delicious.

*I know you are wondering why I bought two tubs of cookie dough. And that answer is quite simple. One for the party I was attending that night and one just for me. Naturally.

**Spaghetti, cereal and bread count as necessities. It's pretty much all I eat. Well, that and raw cookie dough.

For all I know, the internet is just another way for me to meet another loser

As I have blogged about here, Jinny is convinced that I am going to find my eternal companion via the internet. Specifically eHarmony. Not quite sure why she hasn't latched on to match.com, but that is not for me to understand. Anyway, I found particular joy in two comments I received on my last post:



After my good friend Marianne commented, I was 100% sure Jinny would be elated and concur with her. And like giving candy to a baby, Jinny commented. Sweet!!! Yes, that deserved 3 exclamation points. I was that happy about it.

I then told roommate Nicole about the exchange of comments and she sent me the following ecard today with a personal message of: "Because every time someone tells me I should try online dating, I die just a little bit inside."


This card made my day.

There is no right or wrong way to met a person. But online dating, it's just not for me.

Thank you. That is all.

I"m no lesbian, but after my last date I might consider it.*

I feel a little sad that no one commented on my last post.

I guess that is what I get for not posting for nearly 2 weeks.

BUT, my good to honest excuse is that I had a really bad date two weeks ago that has seriously scarred me and I have no desire to be social or converse with people in general. Ok, maybe not that bad. But I am currently against men. They disgust me and I am convinced all single men are losers.

That sounds bitter, yes?

Well, tell me what you would do when a 33 year old male picks you up for a date 30 minutes late (strike 1) on a Friday night, only to take you to get ice cream (strike 2. Um, I like to eat. A lot. So please feed me) and then take you back to his house to watch a movie (strike 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9) where he then proceeds to practically force you to kiss him (strike 10 - 1000). Yep, you would be scarred too. Oh, and then to top it off, have him text you the next night at 11:50 pm asking "what are you doing?"

Good hell. I just turned into a booty call. Don't worry Dad, I ignored him.

Seriously, I haven't had this bad of a reaction to a date since I was like 20. I am actually physically repulsed by men right now. This date was just the icing on a very big cake of losers that I have met over the past few months. As much as I believe that all the single men left are losers, I have to be honest with myself and think that there must be something wrong with me if these are the only men I am attracting.

So, until I have done a full investigation on myself, I am taking a hiatus from men. I really think it's the best thing for all of us.

*I'm really not going to try lesbianism. Don't worry Mom. You'll get grand babies from me one day.

Please Karma, don't hate me

Today was my first day at my new ward. No, I didn't move. No, I didn't get kicked out my previous ward. And no, I didn't leave my ward to get out of my calling.

Well, maybe I did a little. I mean, someone had the nerve to ask me if we wanted to help throw a multi-ward Halloween party. Um, I hate Halloween. And, I hate multi-ward parties planned for weekend nights. So, I put a kibosh to that before the word even got back to my bishop.

Anyway, I had been going to the same ward for far to long. I mean, like so long that when people were all, "I've been in the ward a really long time." And I would be all, "how long?" And they would say, "2 years" I would get really nervous and embarrassed to tell them my number. Because if they thought 2 years was a long time, what would they think of 8. Yes, 8 years in one singles ward. I can't believe I even just typed it out for the whole world wide web to see.

I shouldn't have even be going to that ward. I moved out of the boundaries over 4 years ago but continued to go because I really liked it and therefore saw no reason to leave.

But, when our bishopric changed last week, I made the decision that I would not be around to see the new group take charge. And so, I made the switch to the ward that I actually live in. And today, was my first day.

They had all new members of the ward go to the gym during Sunday School so they could get all the appropriate information. We had to sit in a half circle which somehow turned into boys on one side girls on the other. Classic. FML.

After a round of awkward introductions were made and paperwork was filled out, we each had to meet with either a member of the bishopric or the executive secretary so they could get to know us a little better. For all the non-mos out there who have know idea who any of these people are that I am taking about, here is a breakdown for you:

Bishopric: 3 older, married men running the ward
Executive Secretary: single guy in the ward

And so naturally, when I had the choice of who to meet with, I chose the single guy.

So there we are chatting like it's an awkward first date and he asked me, "so what calling have you had that you have liked?" And in classic Natalie fashion I smiled and replied, "Oh, how bout I tell you what callings I didn't like."

Birds chirping.

Guy didn't crack a smile.

Damn. Can't joke about that stuff with total strangers.

Well, there you have it. When I get called back to FHE it will come along with a note from Karma saying, "haha sucka!"

Just call me a seamstress, but don't ask me to sew anything without supervision

So my friend Kristine is having a baby. I tried to convince her that she didn't want to have a child for a few more years, but she didn't take my advise. I know what you are thinking, "why would you not want your friend to have a baby?" Well people, when you are the only single one left out of all your friends you do whatever you can to keep things the way they are. And babies ruin everything.

Ok, they don't. Please don't hate me for saying that. I hear you judging me through my computer. But really, babies definitely change a person. And when that change makes them not relate to me, I don't really like it. Don't get me wrong, I love all my friends and their children. But the older we get, the more separated we are becoming. It's one of the parts of my life that does actually make me very sad. Not sad that I am not married or have children, but sad that I can see distance growing with friends of mine that I have had for over 10 years. Two different chapters in life, one not better than the other, but two different chapters nonetheless.

Well this post is becoming depressing. So let me get back on track.

I wanted to do something different for Kristine and her new baby. And so by some unforeseen reason, I thought I would make a quilt. And let it be said, I don't sew. Penel is an excellent seamstress. However, that talent was not bestowed upon me. But, I did get her Greek skin so I thank her for that.

Anyway, Penel loves to quilt and had a darling pattern for a baby quilt. The next thing I know I am buying fabric and asking the 80 year old lady behind the counter to cut me pieces in "fat quarters". I don't really know what that means. But she did. Apparently, I really need to read up on my fabric lingo. Also, as a side note - every time I go into a fabric store I have to pee. Why is this? Odd.

My mother was an angel and walked me through step-by-step what I needed to do. Cut here, iron here, pin here, sew here. I told her numerous times that sewing was not in my line of work - all the while hoping that she would volunteer to do the sewing for me. But she'd look at me, smile and say "you're doing great." Um, no Mom, that was not the correct answer. Let's try again.

Kidding. Sort of.

After about 100 mistakes (all of which Penel quickly fixed), 800 pricks by those damn pins and just a few (more) cuss words, I managed to finish the quilt. Well, almost finish. The backing, binding and actual hand quilting part still need to be done. All of which will be done by my mom. She's truly an angel. And well, she knew all that was beyond my capability.

Here's a picture of me with the almost finished quilt. I'll leave the totally finished piece for Kristine to be the first to see.


It really does pay to have a talented mother. Now, if I could just get her to cook all my meals for me we would really be in business.

My words were stolen. I feel violated.

Yesterday, I received the following comment on one of my posts:

I think you're funny....
I don't know how I came across your blog...but I did...and I read it yesterday, and all day today...it's safe to say I didn't save any lives at work.....
I hope you're not creeped out!
The end!
I don't know why people would think I would be creeped out by them reading my blog. You do realize that my blog is on something called THE INTERNET. And it isn't private. So, I kind of expect people to read it. In fact, I love it when people who I don't know read my blog. It gives me some sort of weird validation. Plus, I'm totally narcissistic, but what about a blog isn't narcissistic? I also like people to tell me I am funny. Apparently, I need all sort of validation in my life.

I was interested in who this nice commenter was, so I linked to her blog to check her out. You know, that is what happens when you post comments on blogs. You can track these people. Thank you Internet. So, there I am reading her blog post from THAT day and I notice something strange. The intro paragraph to her post sounded really familiar. So familiar that I noticed that I WROTE IT. Freaking chick plagiarized me. WHO DOES THAT? Yes friends, I remember what I write. Even if it was 10 months ago. Or 2 years ago. I know my own writing when I see it. I use way to many commas and an English major probably cringes when they read my writing. But I write like I talk. So get over it.

My post original post can be viewed here

So, I immediately im'd my blogger friends to tell them of the crime. And my lovely friend Miranda didn't skip a beat in calling The Plagiarizer out on her felony. Is plagiarism a felony? It not, it should be.

Miranda's comment on The Plagiarizer's blog:

And just in case The Plagiarizer decided to change her post after reading Miranda's comment, I took a screen shot as evidence:

















Now tell me friends, should I link to her blog so you can all leave comments? Or, should the shame of me posting this be enough to make her feel bad?

My message to The Plagiarizer:
Thank you for reading my blog. I sincerely appreciate your nice comment. However, please don't steal my words. You seem like a lovely person and when you blog, make it your own. After all, isn't that what a blog is for anyway?

A letter to no one.

Dear Internet,

I am sure you have been very concerned about my whereabouts and why I haven't blogged. And well, I don't really have an excuse. Unless I can say I have writers block. Yes, I'll say that. I mean, I have starting writing like 10 different posts, all of which have sucked and I have deleted them. So there, I have writers block.

I am going to blame my lack of thinking/ideas/coherent thought on the fact that I accidentally* rented the 1st dvd in the Prison Break series a week ago and have been sucked into a whirlwind of television viewing that has rendered me completely useless. The show is amazing. You should rent it.

On another note, I signed up for the Utah Woman's Football Clinic. That's right. A football clinic. And no, I don't have to actually play football. No way in hell would i sign up for that. Physical exercise? I think not. Sitting in a chair and learning about football. Just my style. We had our first class last night. We met the coaches, toured the workout facilities, the Utah Hall of Fame and then watched film and learned about blitzes, screens and penalties. What? You don't know what those mean? Well, now I do. Next thing you know I am going to be kicking it with a cold one** and burping with the boys. I'm so going to get married now.

Love,
Natalie

*And by accidentally, I mean I was fully aware of what I was doing and didn't really care.
**And by cold one, I mean a glass of ice water. Remember, I am off the juice.

As good as it might be, Crystal Light is not as good as Coca-Cola

Yesterday I had a coke during lunch and a Costco churro two hours later. You're all, "Natalie, that is nothing to blog about?" And I'm all, "That is a dangerous amount of sugar consumed in 2 short hours. So, it totally is." Because by 3:30 I was seriously considering crawling under my desk, curling up in the fetal position and taking a nap. But apparently that is frowned upon at Agency X. Who knew?

The time has yet again come to stop drinking coca cola. I know. You are probably thinking, "didn't you go off it like a year ago. Um, and like 3 months ago?" And to that I would say yes. Clearly, I have a problem with commitment.

This is where co-worker Jami enters. Like me, she is a coca cola addict. Her addiction comes in the form of Diet Coke. We've bonded over our trips to Wendy's for extra-large coca cola goodness and salty french fries. These are the kinds of friends I like. She also watches trashy reality tv. So, pretty much she is my best friend.

Anyway, we decided that together, we could kick our addiction. And just in case our "promise to not drink" didn't work, we have to pay each other $5 for every coke/diet coke we drink. Money bags I am not. So, no coke for me. Except for today at the Utah game. We both decided that was a freebie.

And as a substitute for our afternoon fixes, we made a pitcher of Raspberry Ice Crystal Light.

The liquid in this is in fact, Raspberry Ice Crystal Light

Wish us luck. Wait, wish me luck. Not her. I could use extra cash. Mama needs some new boots for winter.

Not coke. Sad.

This is why I love my parents

Recently I stumbled upon a hilarious blog titled Oh Crap. My Parents Joined Facebook. I will call it OCMPJF for the purpose of this post. OCMPJF is a website where people can send screenshots of ridiculous posts/comments/messages that their parents have "facebooked" and those screenshots will be posted on the blog. Clearly, a brilliant idea.

Luckily for me, I cannot contribute to this blog because my parents think Facebook is a waste of time and have not joined. And I tell them they are right everyday. EVERYDAY. Because OCMPJF said it right when they said, "Family. Can't Facebook with 'em, can't unFriend 'em!"

After wetting myself from laughter from a good 30 minutes spent on this site, I noticed a frequent trend among parents and their posts on Facebook. Many comments are signed with their name, ie: "mom"/"dad". Clearly, no one has told them that a signature is not needed on such communications.

Case in point (from OCMPJF):

Laughing. Very. Hard.

Come to think about it, the signature doesn't stop there. Text messages with signatures are my favorite. Recently, a friend told me of the following text from her own mom, "Your father is teaching me how to text! love, mom." So sweet. So thoughtful. So hilarious.

Kim and Penel are actually pretty savvy and have mastered text messaging quite well. I mean, they do have a son that sent over 15,000 text messages in one month, so they quickly learned if they ever wanted to get a hold of him, they better learn to text.

And that they did. I do get an occasional "love, mom" salutation on my texts. And every time, I smile. Kind of reminds me of when my mom would make my lunches in elementary school and would write notes to me on the napkin. You know, stuff like "Have a great day. Love you, Mom" or "I love you. Mom". At the time I was mortified of such notes. But now, I think I would kind of like it.

I am going to request my mom send me text messages every day with such loving sayings. It will be known as The Sack Lunch Note of the 21st Century.

If McDonalds has it's way with me, my fortune won't come true

The other day, I received a late birthday present from my friend. This is what she gave me:


I am pretty sure she knows me well. Anyone who will buy me a McDonalds gift card clearly knows my weakness. What makes this present even better is that The Biggest Loser is starting in just a few short weeks. And, do you remember my tradition? I'll use this gift card for the season premier.

If it's not McDonalds I am eating, it is most likely Pei Wei. About a month ago I got this fortune:
And yes, I did write the date on it. I also stuck it on my fridge. August 29th is just a few short days away. I'll let you know how it goes.

You got red flags? You want to go out?

Yesterday, I was in deep discussion with a friend about a few certain men in our lives. We both shared the same belief that neither her, nor my crush are particularly good for us. But for some reason, we are drawn to these guys that we know don't fit the bill.

And so today, I sent her the following ecard to demonstrate our stupidity when it comes to men:

I told her I am not opposed to an intervention. Sometimes, I even demand it.

Natalie rage on Monday morning is never a good thing

Dear SOB who broke into my car and stole my golf clubs,

You suck. That long string of profanities that existed my mouth this morning was directly solely at you. I hope Karma comes and kicks you in the face. But if I find you first, I won't be so nice.

Hate you,
Natalie

It's like being in People Magazine, but without the fame and fortune

So, remember when I met Katherine Heigl? Well, I am 99% sure it was that two minute interaction which must have caused her to start stalking me. I know what you're thinking... isn't it the other way around? To that I would say no. Obviously, she was impressed by my unwashed hair and wrinkled pajama outfit. I mean, who wouldn't be? Right?

So, I meet Katherine. Yada yada yada. What's the big deal? Well, do you notice anything similar with these two pictures?

Katherine is totally copying my wardrobe. And who knew Katherine shopped at Express? She is really one with the people.

My coworker who took this picture really wanted me to do a "Who Wore it Best" bit here on my blog. So I ask you Internet friends, who wore it best?