A Sight for Sore....Balls?

Danger: The following material might be considered by some (cough...Grandmommy) to be crude and uncouth. Please proceed with caution

So it is rare that I would have two postings back to back. Although I am trying to keep the blog more up to date than previously, two days in a row is even crazy for my new found blogmaster ways. The sight that I saw this morning, however, was something that I think merits a blog.

I'm going to work this morning, a tad on the late side due to delayed trains, and I'm listening to my i-pod, minding my business when I arrive at my stop, Blackfriars. I embark down the long hallway with all of the other city drones marching to our respective offices. It is common practice for charities to ask for money from arriving passengers as they make their way to their exits. This is the time with the most traffic and hopefully some people are morning people, as most of you are aware, I am not.

This day was different. Yes there was someone asking for donations. Typical signage, typical bucket, typical testicle costume......wait hold that train! That person is dressed up as a large, hairy ball. Yeah that's right...I had to do a double take. This man/woman was raising money for "Male Cancer" (I guess it would be impolite to call it by its name in the UK - we know how the women folk blush). After a good once over, I proceeded to toss him/her a coin, partially for the cause, partially for the "ballsy" costume.

Initially I was unable to find a picture of Mr. Hairy Ball, so I drew from memory what he looked like for those of you who are visual, but a big thank you goes out to Carly who's lover boy also came in contact with the ball man and had the sense to take a picture. Both are included below for your enjoyment. Please note the accuracy of my paintbrush skills.

Food for Thought

I have just returned from Paris, yes riot free, and now I am forced to contemplate what I consider one of the world's greatest mysteries...how are the French not a bunch of fatties?

The food was absolutely amazing in Paris. Our first dinner was a five course meal of every kind of delectable delight. Each table was set with two huge baskets, one containing all sorts of vegetables and the other containing all sorts of sausages and meats, both with a knife and cutting board. This is your salad course as you proceed to stuff your face on the freshly cut ingredients. Next came the soup course and then the main of Beef Stew or Leg of Lamb. Following was the cheese course (the cheese defintiely does not stand alone in France) with cutting boards featuring several different cheeses ranging from goat cheese to Brie. Then last but not least a homemade, decadent chocolate pudding. It was by far one of the top ten meals that I've ever had.

The days were filled with rich hot chocolates and banana, Nutella crepes by the Eiffel Tower. These crepes melted in your mouth with yummy goodness.

The sights were fabulous, the food was better.

Good morning/afternoon/evening The Paul Weiland Film Company...

...is the standard greeting that escapes my lips anywhere from 20 to 1000 times a day. It's a mundane line but hey I get paid the big bucks for uttering it (so I'm told). The job so far is fine. I'm not doing any hands on stuff which I pray to God I will be doing this time next year. This is mainly b/c I'm the receptionist but hey it's a start. The website should be up and running in two weeks so you guys can check it out soon. What else...

The weather here is very strange. Some days it's freezing and then others it's surprisingly mild for October...well England for that matter.

We are now in our 4TH week of living with Pat and Pete and have been told 'it's going to be another 2 weeks before you move into your apartment.' I suspect that this apartment no longer exists and these so called real estate agents are really experts in the line of torture and mental anguish (for which they are succeeding). What will it be like to only commute 30 minutes to work as opposed to the 90 minute one (EACH WAY!!!) I endure everyday? I envision sleeping in past 7am (Mom, I know you wake up at, like, 4am, but in the UK no one gets to work before 10am ok?!?!) perhaps hitting the snooze button more than once and even, if I'm lucky, be fortunate enough to enjoy a whole breakfast. Not just an apple or one of those tiny yogurts they pass off as a shot drink but a bowl of cereal or waffles even! The possibilities are endless, but for now, much like my apartment, they continue to elusively taunt me.

Nothing else to report. Until next time...
Court
x

Nudey J. Booty

When you think Hungarian women, the picture of beauty is not so conventional. Ok let's face it, most of them of have been kissing trains. We're talking hairy, we're talking furrowed brows that have been scowling since they entered their post communist world.

So you can imagine my utter shock and horror when I went to partake in the famous Hungarian thermal baths and was exposed to their large and in charge, fully naked bods.

Let's set the scene for the encounter. I went to have a massage, very cheap in Hungary. This place was very confusing, signs were all over the place in broken English, and old Hungarian women who worked at the baths kept grabbing me and turning me down dimly lit hallways. I arrived at the massage area to be handed a singular sheet and told to wait. As I sat down ready to contemplate what I potentially had gotten myself into, I saw it. Gasp! The massage room with a large naked body oiled up and jiggling about. It reminded me of a beached whale and someone trying to lift it but failing over and over. It was a glimpse into a future that I hope and pray doesn't await for me, a future where gravity is a woman's worst enemy, an unescapable force.

Once the initial shock set in, then the next obvious concern that crossed my mind was, "Oh my gosh, am I going to have to get naked?"
Thankfully for this modest American girl, I was able to maintain some dignity and keep my Getter booty from being exposed, but my eyes may never recover.

Land Shark

Disclaimer: BEWARE!!!!! This blog is not for those are the weak of heart. Any of those suffering from fear of blood, seeing my fat, high blood pressure, pregnancy (yes that is included in suffering), and Grandmommy like hysterics should not proceed any further.

This weekend I was the victim of England's first known Land Shark attack. I escaped with only wound to the leg which was stitched by the highly skilled Dr. Akis from Cyprus.

Highlights included: Seeing my own fat, drinking a Diet Coke in the Ambulance, telling an inept nurse off, casting Clive Owen to play my doctor in the movie version, and receiving three layers of stitches.

Pictures from the scene:

BEFORE


AFTER


The Man of the Hour...I call him Akis, you can call him Dr. Hottie

The Stars at Night...

...Are Big and Bright (clap clap clap) Deep In the Heart of Texas!
Yee haw! Alex and I would like to let everyone know that we OFFICIALLY own 5.4 acres of the great state of Texas. We hope to build on it when we return back to the states. It's on the north shore of Lake Travis and just a 2 minute drive from the lake. And according to Google maps, Richie, my cousin, lives straight across the lake from us. So I guess we can expect to see alot of each other via boat. When we get back for Christmas y'all are all invited for a champagne toast on the land to help us celebrate. Get excited!
Lots of love,
Court

Bored Beyond Belief

I've always known that I was directionally challenged, but I should go ahead and add geographically challenged as well. For the last...let's say hour, I've been playing this European geography game to try to keep my mind off the fact that it is a ghost town in my office. My best score is 34/45. Go to this website and play the game yourself:

http://www.sheppardsoftware.com/country_europe_G2_drag-drop.swf

First you will feel silly for not knowing where these countries are located, and then you will feel like a dumbass because you didn't even know that some of these countries existed. Now I'm just a bored moron.

A pigeon...

...walked into my house today. Just walked in the front door, waltzed passed Mark, Staci, and I and into the kitchen, to you know, check things out. After it made a bird bath out of the frying pan that was soaking in the sink, we attempted to lure it back out of the house with cat food. It then flew into the window not once but three times and finally made it's way outside injured. Or so we thought...it kept trying to fly and to our dismay just jumped a whole bunch. Talk about depressing. Finally it just flew off...faker!

Yogurt Swirl...

...Is the best way to describe the current state of my legs. Orange and vanilla yogurt swirl to be exact.

It all started when I was visiting Becky in Texas and commented on how great her tan was. She said she had been using these self tan towlettes that you just swipe over your legs and presto change-o tan legs. Well I decided to finally give it a try yesterday and the pictures you see before you are the result. No it's not a skin disease it's just my first attempt at self tanning. I have to say though I am pleased with the 85% of my legs that are tan.

Behold...the swirl...

Granmommy

I won't lie it's been tough since we all found out what's going on with the matriarch of the family. It's been unexpected and hard on everyone to say the least. I've found comfort in the words of Becky and my dad though. Becky told me yesterday prior to GM's surgery that we were all in battle mode. I know she meant mentally but I know everyone has been fiercly praying for her safety and recovery. Dad also mentioned that things like this seem hopeless without the full of armor of God. Well I know we're all 'fully loaded' at the moment. So Granmommy, if you ever get around to reading this, know that we're all behind you, we're all praying for you, and know we all love you.

Now to lighten the mood...favorite Granmommy stories...
1.) Brooke has a Nazi boyfriend? Just the other day GM and I were discussing Brooke's potentially Swedish boyfriend (let me clarify, he has all the potential in the world to be Swedish because he is, the potential left to be fulfilled is in the boyfriend status). I told her his name was Karl to which she responded 'that sounds like a Nazi name.'

2.) 'I'm on fire.'
No 3 words have created such comedy in our family than these. It was a summer day a few years ago. Farmers Branch was quiet as it is, until the phone rang. GM had called to let Brooke she wasn't on fire. Befuddled, Brooke responded with the only response you can have when faced with a potentially crazy grandmother...'I'm not on fire either,' she said hoping not to rock the boat. GM then went on to explain that there was a fire in Farmers Branch, she worried that we would look out the window in any general direction, see smoke and assume that her house was on fire. It indeed wasn't...so we're told.

3.) Al Queda has played a part in both of our countries fears at the moment but no one knew that better than Granmommy after 9/11. According to her inside government sources (aka Charlie Bird who's on the Farmers Branch city council) Al Queda was planning to poison the Farmers Branch water supply. And after said warning, she told me she was beginning to test the water for said poison. I replied with, "Granmommy, how can you tell if it's poisoned or not?" She responded with, "Oh I can tell." You don't mess with scientific facts like that folks.

I love you Granmommy!
Love,
Court

Grandmommy Part Deux

After reading Court's post I was inspired to add a couple more cherished Grandmommy stories to the mix. They do always say that laughter is the best medicine.

A Potential Bestseller?

While riding in the land yacht white Caddy, Grandmommy was inspired with an idea for a book. This was no ordinary book, this was a book of personal entries gathered from friends and family far and wide. Something that mothers could give daughters. Something that could be cherished between generations.

Of course I am only referring to a collection of stories surrounding "my first period." Yes that's right folks, let's share with the rest of the world our awkward stories of puberty and becoming a woman. This idea was put to rest by a typical Brooke face and a firm stance that any periods in writing should be reserved for punctuation.

Do your boobs hang low?

This story has been told to me several times by Grandmommy although I personally cannot recollect it. Since I have no recollection, we are going to blame all crudities on Courtney.

The scene: A tranquil day in da Branch, golfers on the green, a light wind in the air. A car pulls up with two bouncing blonde girls spilling out of it.

Courtney, in her hyper, "just can't wait" way runs up to Grandmommy's house eager to raid her fridge, jump on the mini tramp and play with plastic bats.

Unassuming Grandmommy is in the kitchen washing her hair in the sink.

Courtney reaches the door, and Grandmommy looks up from the sink to her see her little face filled with mischief and giggles peering through the door.

Brooke, trails behind in a very angelic and adult like manner.

Courtney bursts into the house before Grandmommy can react, and quickly turns back outside and yells, "Hey hurry up, come quick, you gotta see this, Grandmommy's boobs are hanging in the sink!"

The world stopped as the knowledge of Grandmommy's vulnerable nature was made public to the entire golf course. The horror, the sheer mortification. A proper "braining" was definitley in order.

I've Fallen...

And I can get up, only to fall once again. I don't know what has happened in the last three days, but I have forgotten how to walk or developed two left feet. I'm referring to the fact that I've fallen flat on my face three times in the last three days.

Incident #1
Date: 7/15/05
Location: Westminster Tube Station
In an effort to try and tone my thighs (not working), I have taken to always climbing the escalator on the left rather than standing on the right. I reach the top of the escalator only to have my flip flop hit the top step and send my left ankle into the teeth of the next.
Injuries sustained: Mild abrasions to the left ankle.

Incident #2
Date: 7/16/05
Location: Oxford Circus Area (read very busy)
This fall occurred during our walk to the bus stop. Due to the frantic nature of Oxford Circus, I felt the need to run across the street to make sure that the traffic did not run me down (we did have a green man). Please note that during this fall I was dressed really cute and wearing shoes that I usually have great difficulty walking in let alone running in. I bit it so hard I'm surprised that I was able to get up again. This fall was during a sprint and it was sudden. Thankfully my trusted friend Carly saw it as her duty to stop traffic (please note that traffic was not moving as it was a red light). I really wish I could have been one of the drivers in the cars present to witness my massive fall and the girl stopping the already stopped cars.
Injuries sustained: Massive purple bruise on my right knee. Jeans helped ease the severity of injury.

Incident #3
Date: 7/18/05
Location: Westminster Tube Stop (again!)
Once again I'm on the exact same escalator. Funny thing was that I was thinking about last week's fall when I fell again. The first time was a mere trip in comparison to this. I fell and then got wedged in between the moving escalator and the person next to me. I had to be helped up, and my pale pink skirt was covered in black. Tried to act natural and boarded the train where no one else did.
Injuries sustained: abrasions to the right ankle and right hand and of course my wounded pride :)

So there you have it. Hopefully I won't add to this list, but I must mention that my friend Sean definitely got his head stuck in the tube doors today as well. So maybe there's something in the water.

WE ARE OK

Just to let everyone know that me, Court and Alex are ok. Scariness on London transport. We aren't really sure what is going on, but we love you and are ok.

Olympics

I love the Olympics, and it is so exciting to be in London right now as they have secured the 2012 Olympic bid just ahead of archrival Paris in a 54 to 50 vote. The sun has just come out and everyone is smiling. It really is quite a good feeling even if this isn't my home. You can really sense how much people wanted this, and since alot of the construction is going to go on in the East End, maybe this means it will help the sale of Court and Al's house. I'm already making plans to come back and attend.

Village Fete

Ok... this is a bit of an English tradition. let me explain. Over here we have something called the 'village fete' (prounounced 'fayte'. It's a very parochial, villagey affair where you can have pony rides, climb aboard the local fire engine, have a go on the coconut shy (i suggest you google this to find out what it is), and eat cakes made by the women's institute. The High Wych village fete where mum & dad lives was no different. Except for the cakes. They were all from Tesco's - the local supermarket!
Here are the piccies that Brooke took:

Courtney taking part in the tug 'o' war


Our version of a team of cheerleaders


Finally it's the human fruit machine...

Al
x

Royal National Lifeboat Institution

Here's Alex on the life boat. Some of you might wonder what he does as a volunteer lifeboatsman. Well so far, nothing, b/c he hasn't made any saves. Which I'm told is a good thing.

Napoleon

Now I know you've heard of his majesty but most of you have never before experienced his awesome class and his high tech style. I give you...NAPOLEON!

The Track and Tennis

It has come to my attention that I've been living a very posh life the last few weeks. Not only did I cheer on the ponies at the famous Ladies Day at Royal Ascot, but I also caught a few jolly good sets of tennis at a little event I think they call Wimbledon.


Before I know it I'm going to develop a fake accent, refer to everything as lovely, and eat puddings rather than dessert.

What are you kidding? Do you know who I was raised by? This kind of sarcasm and crudity just doesn't disappear over night. Following are the faux pas that were committed at said events:

1. At Ascot, I suggested to a group of very proper older women that they only lived once and should therefore have their picture taken with a drag queen.

2. Called Elizabeth "Ole Bessie" as her royal procession drove down the track.

3. Not aware of Tennis etiquette, sat down before the game was over. Gasp...not before the game was over! I swear the ball boys were out for blood.

4. Again not aware that Tennis was so tame, yelled out, "Good Effort!" in a dead silent crowd. Did manage to get one Chinese tourist to chuckle.

5. Megan and I tried to keep the tennis ball that came at us over the fence (like in baseball), but was then informed that we needed to give it back because we were in England and that British people were too polite to keep it.


6. Dubbed one of the players "Gut boy."

So there you have it. It just goes to show you that you can put a Getter in England, but you can't put England into a Getter.

Interviewing 101

I think I should write a book on what NOT to do during, before and after an interview. Let's review my history shall we?...

November 2004
Position being interviewed for: Production Secretary
Company: Leopard Films
Salary: below minimum wage
Summary: Was working the Texas charm for as long as I could then they hit me with that hard hitting question, "so what do you think the duties of a Production Secretary are?" Having no clue whatsoever, I bullshitted my way along which received confused looks. To which I then responded, "I have no clue." Score...

Febuary 2005
Position being interviewed for: Researcher
Company: Leopard Films
Salary: again below minimum wage
Summary: Was totally underexperienced and cried during the interview...NEXT!

June 2005
Position being interviewed for: Researcher
Company: Attaboy Productions
Salary: I said between 300-350...of course they're going to pick the lower sum...dumb ass!
Summary: Went in for a researcher on a car show, they asked what I knew about cars. I replied with, "I come from a state where there are big ones." Ponder that for just a while...yeah after I sign off here I'm going to get a tattoo across my forehead that says 'dip shit.'

Love y'all miss y'all. Good to see everyone while we were in Texas.

Until next time,
Court

Oh My God We're Back Again!

Here's the latest adventure that I've had in ole England:

I was watching "Top of the Pops" on the BBC where they feature each weeks biggest number one in the UK. The Backstreet Boys were performing their new single which requires them to get down on their knees and act really heartbroken (the video even includes thrown sand). It was gripping. Knowing that the show is filmed in London, this meant that the Backstreet Boys were in town, and I bet they were ready to party (especially the one fresh from rehab).

So I'm walking through Regents park the next morning with my high school cronie Amber and flatmate Kerstie to go to the tube. Its a beautiful day in London...almost 75 degrees. This man is running towards us. First thought: He's good looking. Second Thought: He could pass for one of the Backstreet Boys. Third thought: Holy Hell it is a Backstreet Boy - it was meant to be.

After telling random strangers of our brush with fame, we went on to Portobello Market. There I realized that I was shopping next to none other than Hermione of Harry Potter. This day was every pre-teen's fantasy...Harry Potter and a Backstreet Boy. How could I be so lucky?!

So there you have it. Hopefully this will make your day or at least make you envious of my glamorous lifestyle rubbing elbows with the sorta rich (more money than me) and the somewhat/used to be famous.