9 lessons learned from labor day weekend in las vegas

9 things we learned from our labor day weekend in las vegas:




1. friends accompanying last minute always make for better times. and better jazz hands:

2. it is still possible to milk out your 20th anniversary even 2.5 months after it happened at a surprisingly great new restaurant find:

3. mindi doesn't ever need to ride the new york new york roller coaster ever again in her whole entire life:


****UPDATE 2019 I AM POSITIVE THIS THING DIRECTLY EFFED UP MY ALREADY EFFED-UP SPINE!!!!!****

4. somehow it is possible that chandler will find the only feline in the entire madame tussauds wax museum:

(but we all wanted in on that action):

5. speaking of wax museums and roller coasters....

if you (allegedly) know somebody or are somebody (allegedly) that would be in possession of a counterfeit nevada driver license (again, allegedly) it just keeps paying off.

like in the form of half-off wax museum tickets & free re-rides for all ten persons in your party on the coaster:

6. sipping something out of an adorable container makes it even just a little better:

7. waking up to this view never seems to get old:

8. seeing this view is the reason why we keep doing it:

9. pseudo-suburban gang signs never go out of style:

i owned a pink flourescent sweatshirt in 1984. it was cool for 2 weeks after i purchased it and then exiled.

the 80's clothing revival movement has been in full swing for quite some time now, but i was totally SHOCKED at the latest items available over at american apparelwhen i was in new orleans i stopped into a clothing store merely because (and i am a little sheepish admitting this. BAAAAHHHH.) they had a d.j. set up in the front of the store spinning some really great tunes.

as i wandered through, the 80's throwback assortment was overwhelming. but because i was getting my groove on to 'rock your body dance remix' i decided i needed something to try on.

my little sales associate-- whom i am fairly certain was younger than some of the salad dressings in my fridge--kept bringing over outfits that she thought i should try on.

when being offered (quite enthusiastically btw) a particularly distasteful jessie-spano jean-shirt-tucked-in-boots-with-socks combo, i protested that i was too old.

she replied, "you look like a hip lady. you could totally pull this off."

being an ass-kisser of the first place kind, i didn't buy it. it felt good to mull it around for a moment while pretending, but i knew her game.

another middle-aged lady who was waiting next to me for her receipt leaned over and told me, "honey, if you were old enough to wear it the first time? then you are for damn sure too old to wear it the next time around."

n

unisex highlighter flex fleece zip hoody
i had this in pink along with the other dixie high school freshman class officers. we wore it for our yearbook photo. we bought them at christensen's and they were 'out' about 2 miliseconds later. (see above.)






printed spandex jersey harem pant
i had a pair similar to these that i wore to the jets/jermaine stewart/stacy q concert.  i was hired by a lady in our ward who worked for the radio station that was sponsoring the event.  they needed someone to be the butler/gopher/gal friday for the bands that were performing.  the jets had me drive them to deseret book so that they could stock up on various LDS books and music and art. the lead roadie for jermaine stewart took a particular liking to me and invited me into the trailer to see the singer and band.  it was about 5 pm and the lights were all off in the bus.  i was super stressed and was worried about bothering anyone and was super stressed of rejection.  daRel motioned for me to walk a bit further and pulled back the curtains on the sleeper.  jermaine was sleeping inside, sat up, yelled "F*CK YOU DAREL!!!!" and yanked the curtain shut.  i screamed, peed my pants a little and hauled ass out of the bus like my hair was on fire.  i was done with my duties at 8:00 once the concert started and i had a back stage pass hanging around my neck that got (surprisingly.  TRULY) a lot of envious stares from girls at my school who were the most popular in their grades.  jermaine stewart was a little dude about 5'4" who liked boys and the jets were super wholesome, so there were a lot of looks at the musicians who were playing in the bands.  they were big fish in a tiny pond and i had more than one offer to buy my pass (WTF?) but i declined.  i didn't want anyone to have buyer's remorse.






stretch bull denim slim slack with ankle zippers
ahhhh, the ankle zipper! they were present and accounted for on my first ever pair of guess jeans that i bought at the meadows mall in las vegas at the first of my sophomore year. i knew i had taken it to the next level when nicole carter (popular girl) commented on them as i walked across the street to seminary.


(btw: this is also available in a 'MINERAL WASH' which we lovingly referred to in the 80's as ACID WASH.)

velour romper

my mom bought me one of these bad boys against her better judgement for my 6th grade track day. and the track is STILL in therapy. it was from yellow front and it was made of burgandy terry cloth and it had a full shirt on top as lana would never have gone for spaghetti straps, and i always felt really "worldly" in it.

challenger eyeglasses

now, my glasses were a tad bit cooler than these, but not by far. they were red and covered about 3/4ths of my face. and the lenses were made out of heavy glass which weighed about 10 pounds. SUCH a great look. 

zebra print nylon tricot legging

the only thing i ever learned how to sew from lana. i made quite a few of these in different knit colors/patterns and would wear them with my units belts that were also fashioned by the sweat of my brow. it was pretty spectacular and i would always take shortcuts and never finish the hemming because i would tuck the raw edge into the pants and then throw a belt over both.

shiny legging
 after seeing olivia newton-john in her black leather leggings in "grease", i was obsessed with people who looked good in these.  michelle pfeifer wore them in scarface and i knew she looked as close to perfection as humanly possible.

i've hated my body since i was in third grade and i know this isn't normal.

{image courtesy of tiburon}

i've written before about my hate/hate relationship with my body. this is how it's always been, my whole entire life, and as i get older and wiser i keep thinking that i'll "make up" with myself and get over it.

yeah...........not so much.

the other day russ was watching some crazy documentary on e! entertainment television (where ALL of the really in-depth, serious programs air) and one particular segment caught my eye: it was about this woman who had been diagnosed with body dysmorphic syndrome



{from wikipedia}

Body dysmorphic disorder (BDD) (previously known as Dysmorphophobia[1] and sometimes referred to as Body dysmorphia) (also known as "Dysmorphic syndrome," and "Dysmorphophobia"[2]) is a psychiatric disorder in which the affected person is excessively concerned about and preoccupied by an imagined or minor defect in their physical features. The sufferer may complain of several specific features or a single feature, or a vague feature or general appearance, causing psychological distress that impairs occupational and/or social functioning, sometimes to the point of complete social isolation.[3] It is estimated that between 1%-2% of the world's population meet all the diagnostic criteria for BDD.

i was totally fascinated. and then it occurred to me: have i got a slight case of this? do we all as women, in general, display symptoms of bdd??

it seems like, no matter how much i weigh or how much weight i can lose, or which surgery i have to put humpty dumpty back together, i never seem satisfied with the appearance of my body. there is always SOMETHING that i can pick apart, criticize, or complain about.

cellulite? CHECK. boobs that won't stay in place no matter what god and dr. rhodes has done to them? CHECK. CHECK. backfat? (sung "backfat, backfat" to the tune of dora's "backpack, backpack...".)CHECK. CHECK. CHECK.


the point of this post is NOT to get sympathy comments. it's point is to illustrate that mindi thinks her scarred psyche-thinking about this is certifiable.
i realize that hollywood plays a part in how we all think. but i also know that, being one of those girls who has had to "watch her weight" from 3rd grade on, i've never remembered a time when the number on the scale wasn't an issue. i even remember being jealous in 6th grade of my best friend kristina nelson--she could eat whatever she wanted WHENever she wanted and it never seemed to be an issue. i was ELEVEN YEARS OLD! my only concerns should have been when tommy howell was gonna return my love and when lana was gonna buy me a pair of jordace jeans.

i hear people talk about loving themselves at any weight, and i've witnessed the positive power of that, but i just can't seem to get on board. am i alone in thinking this?



so, my question to you is: can one ever break the spiral of self shame? or will it just cost one millions of dollars in therapy at matt eschler's office to do it? hmmmmmm. discuss.

worst job ever: TELEMARKETING

it was 1989. i was 19 years old, going to college at southern utah university in cedar city, utah.

getting a job was a necessary evil--my parents were paying for my rent and school, but for some reason frowned on me laying around listening to milli vanilli on my walkman and watching mtv. part of the deal was me getting gainful employment, but jobs were scarce in that small town. so i applied for the job that every college student was working at: nise corporation telemarketing. i got the position since basically the only requirement for the job was for me to have a pulse and not show up drunk.

i started the 10 day training process with high hopes. we started studying the "scripts"--actual pages and pages of dialogue that they wanted us to use with the potential customer that we had to read from a binder. there were a lot of words, but i memorized fairly fast and considered myself quite skilled in the fine art of winning friends and influencing people. this would be like shooting fish in a barrel, i told myself.

we were selling credit card insurance to card-holders of a large corporation that employed us. keep in mind that this was in the age of guerrilla-style telemarketing: you keep talking and pushing and talking and pushing until the potential victim either caved or screamed naughty words at you and hung up.

the script had a rebuttal for every rejection. if they said, "i need to check with my spouse before i purchase anything." then you would turn to the "talk to my wife/husband prior" page and read the script. if they said, "i don't need credit card insurance." then you would turn to the "in denial of needing insurance." page and torment them some more. any single scenario you could think of? yup, they had a page for it. the answer that was the most dreaded? "my spouse, who was the card-holder, is dead." then you went to the "deceased" page and read from the script which went basically like, "oh. i'm sorry, ma'am/sir. i am so very sorry for your loss. would you happen to be an authorized signer on the card? if not, could you please put them on the phone?" legit.

they did NOT want you to hang up that phone until you had given at least THREE rebuttals. which meant that they had to tell you "no. stop. screw you, you jerk!" thrice before you were allowed to hang up and move on to the next number. that's like a million years in telemarketing-on-the-phone time.

i made it 15 days before having a nervous breakdown. the final straw came when the phone call i had made to a potential customer in modesto, california (will NEVER forget that location. it's scarred into my brain. like a cattle brand.) ended with him telling me that he would bet i was the ugliest looking woman in real life. cue tears, mascara running, and collection of final paycheck after slamming the phone down and yelling, "DAMMIT! i'm OUT."


it was my worst job, ever.

can you 'one up' me on this one?

box doctor solutions or back in the saddle {or stirrups} again!

so yesterday was the day i had to do the thing i've been dreading for weeks and putting off for (3) years: making an appearance at the gynecologist's office. (also referred to as the "down-there-doc" if you read seriously so blessed!, or the "box doctor" if you are my bestie kristin.)

i'm a grown woman who's had 4 children, but for some reason i've developed a healthy fear of the gyno. i don't dig feeling vulnerable in my paper gown, waiting for something cold to go somewhere i don't want it to while i lay there trying to act like i ALWAYS lounge with my feet up in the stirrups.

i tend to try to diffuse uncomfortable situations with humor (often times inappropriate, naturally). yet try as i might, yesterday i just could not find a whole lot of funny things to say as the doctor is saying, "gentle...gentle....just a little pressure.....pressure..." i find that i got nuthin'. yes, nothing at all when somebody is down there all up in my lady business.

now, let it be stated for the record that i have an AWESOME doctor--dr. rogers delivered all four girls and is the bomb. i just wish i had some other reason to chat with him other than an occasion that involves a pair of latex gloves and some lubricant. (yikes!)



my mom and her friend had the most GENIUS idea about how to get through this process with a shred of dignity left: they suggested a big conveyor belt that moves very slowly through the office. each patient would have a paper bag over their head with a number on it to identify them, and you'd just move through, stop for a quick, anonymous check, and out before anybody was the wiser. fast. efficient. (relatively) painless.


if that didn't work, we could always go this route:



anyhow, i'm relieved it's over. & now i'm just psyched about my mammogram in 2010!!!

pet peeve: STG GHETTO MOVIE THEATER

so, the other night we went to the sunset movie theaters. which, in st. george, can be a traumatic experience as all of our movie theaters are broken-down, straight-played, ghetto-UNfabulous trainwrecks.

i don't know why we can't get a decent theater around here--i would pay extra $$$ just to walk into a bathroom that didn't seem straight out of a scene from a horror flick: flickering fluorescent lights, clogged toilets, (or THREE, like at stadium 8 sat. night) and smells straight from the depths of hell are not what i had in mind when i gave them my cash.

unfortunately, the movie theaters in santa jorge seem to be controlled by the small-town version of the movie mafia, as they are all owned by the same corporation. and said corporation realizes that the mormons are all so desperate for something to do, that we will accept a movie theater STRAIGHT OUTTA COMPTON.

the point of this whole rant is that when we walked into our theater the other night, all of the lights were on--like, "cleaning the theater" on. not good. in all of my years of movie-going, i don't think i've ever seen the theater in it's full-blown, fully-lit glory.

i had a chance to look around and i nearly needed to be tranquilized. there is a REASON the lights are on dim, people. when was the last time you took a look at your chair in the cold, hard light of day? if the hairs on the upholstery weren't enough to throw me over the edge, then the floors were.

so, i am offering a reward: ONE HUNDRED AMERICAN DOLLARS to somebody willing to build a decent movie theater in st. george. to collect (and i am dead serious) you have to be fully operating, naturally.

100 dollars might not seem like that much money, but i think it could buy a few gallons of that luscious artificial butter for the popcorn.

5 words i hate

MOIST: this word gives me the creeps. it always ends in tears when the word "moist" is used.

FART: my mom hated this word, and so i have tried to continue her legacy. unfortunately, i would rather cuss a blue streak than hear this word, so i think my priorities are a bit....skewed. yikes.

SLUGGISH: yuck. it doesn't sound very good rolling off the tongue.

OKEY DOKEY: just sounds so backwoods, toothless, & hillbilly. makes me want to drop out of high school and search the freeway for fresh road kill.

FLACCID: okay, this is probably the winner of ALL the words i hate. i don't know more than the one definition for it (ewwwwwhhhhhhh, btw) but i just hate the sound of the word. ick.


  

my car alarm went off for 35 minutes at the maverick and i had to drive it home while going off or HUMILIATION.

this is seriously how i feel right now because all i have heard for the past THIRTY MINUTES is the constant, incessant BEEP BEEP BEEP of my car alarm...i just had one of the most embarrassing moments of my adult life. good thing i have a blog so i can come right home, whine about it as my fingers fly across the keys and then post it.  because did it really happen if you didn't put it on your blog? hmmmmmmm.

i just ran down to maverick with mia to get some gas. we went into the store to get a drink and when i came back out my hand hit the "panic" button on my keys and the alarm started blaring. i pushed the button again, and it kept going. i pushed it again and again and AGAIN, and nothing. mia started crying. everyone in the store was looking at me. i started pushing all the buttons, then i got in the car and turned it on and STILL it beeped. really freaking loud.

i turned the car off and on. i got the manual out of the glove compartment, all flustered and trying to calm mia down. a man came over from the pump but we could barely communicate over the blaring--he tried to get in and help, no dice.

i couldn't call russ because he was playing softball and by now the maverick workers (all 3!) had come out and were watching. i turned around to see every person over at the pumps looking my way and i honestly wanted to DIE.  i didn't know how to make it stop.

after almost 15 minutes (which in car alarm-blaring years is more like 2 hours) a sweet grandpa was able to make it stop for about 1 minute. he tried to tell me that my alarm was an aftermarket add-on, i needed to disconnect it, etc. i thanked him profusely and opened the back door to get mia in and it started going off, again. this time he couldn't get it to stop, so i got in the car, and DROVE HOME WITH THE ALARM GOING OFF THE WHOLE WAY. i felt like such an idiot, mia was hysterical by now, and the last straw was when i pulled up to the stop light and this guy pulled up next to me and threw his hands up in the air and totally scowled at me. i flipped him the bird and continued to drive home, completely humiliated that, a: i had a car that wouldn't SHUT UP and , secondly, i had just resorted to 14-year old mindi by flipping the "draper bird" (translation: the really bad one.) awesome. 

i pulled into the garage and burst into tears as i called russ's phone. he actually answered and i'm alternately sobbing and yelling and he said to get out of the car, put the key in the lock, and turn it over.

i did and the blasting finally stopped.

sweet silence.  that horn honking was at ear-splitting level even for a veteran like me and my ears didn't stop ringing for about 45 minutes.

mia did a lot of crying.  like a LOT.  it was pretty terrifying to her and i swear she's gonna need counseling after this. she keeps telling me that we "need a new car, mommy! need a new car!"

i am never driving anywhere again. period.

i'm gonna have to sell a kidney to pay my emergency room bill

we just received my 2nd emergency room bill:






we were there for 6 hours that night in the e.r. in a ghetto room with a scratchy blanket. they did EXACTLY 4 things:

1. put me in a bed
2. put in an iv, drew blood
3. had the dr. come in
4. gave me 2 shots of morphine in the iv, pulled it out


now, i'd like to state for the record that i am grateful that we have insurance. it's not great insurance--i'd say it's medium insurance, but insurance all the same.

what chaps my hide about this is that i can guaranfreakingtee you that we will come out of pocket no less than $800.00 for this.

this is what's wrong with america.

i don't make school lunches and i don't apologize for it.

my mom was pretty hardcore when it came to school lunches. we had two choices: either walk the two blocks home for lunch (old school days) or take the check to school every monday morning for hot lunch (which i learned later in life that she secretly preferred this one. duh.)


i am the same exact way with my girls, only harder core--they have one and only one choice: school lunch. they bring the school lunch calendar to me sometimes and complain that there is something that they are having on tuesday the 12th of never that they might DIE if they have to ingest it, but i always insist that there is gonna be something that they will find to like. bottom line.


i do this for two reasons: one, i am lazy and don't wanna have to hassle with making lunches and special things for them to eat. the school lunch ladies make a much more spectacular effort than i do, plus they actually have to THINK about what would be a little bit nutritious thrown in. secondly, i don't wanna enable my kids to be any more high maintenance than they are already. they are big enough to fend for themselves and figure out something to eat without me running down a special lunch to school every time they find out that there has been a switch up on the school lunch menu.

obviously the biggest reason i do is because i don't really excel in or enjoy the culinary arts and i choose to shine in other capacities. like party planning.  or present wrapping.

so when i saw these bento box lunches that japanese mothers make for their kids, i sighed and just happily wrote another check to keep for school lunches when they go back in august.....

i think this is why the japanese and chinese culture only have one to two children per family. i'm exhausted already thinking about these.

you built this city and we wish that you hadn't......or the worst song in the history of the world

obviously if you've read anything i've written here, you will know that i can be a woman with a strong opinion. life is too short for wimps and milquetoasts, and so it goes for my opinions about music.  jefferson airplane's we built the city is the most annoying song in the history of the world. i've always hated this song with a passion and am disappointed that i came from an era of music that produced this shit

now, i realize that there are so many candidates for the shit song award, but mine will forever and ever go to this unfortunate composition.  i liked jefferson starship when they were jefferson airplane and put out songs like white rabbit and somebody to love. but this song makes my ears bleed.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. russ got a speeding ticket in arizona but they charged me.

this came in the mail for me the other day from the arizona automated traffic enforcement department..........seriously????? i am irritated BEYOND beyond.

here is why i am so bent: i do not doubt the fact that we were going 78 in a 65 mile an hour zone--i cannot dispute the fact that the gold acura mdx with the sweet cargo carrier strapped on top is, indeed, ours. i concur with the esteemed officials at the scottsdale city court that the freaky-close up photo of our license plate doing 78 mph DOES belong to us. what chaps my hide is the fact that they have surveillance photos of russ talking on his cell driving the flippin' car and STILL the ticket came for MELINDA. and no, the car is NOT licensed under my name. russ is waaaaay too smart to put me in charge of something important like that.

my man has had the best laugh about this. when i was whining about the fact that i didn't want a speeding ticket on my record, he said i need to suck it up and take one for the team. i'm sulking because if i am gonna get the ticket, i at least wanted the sirens and lights and all of the hoopla surrounding the big event. perhaps me being lead away in handcuffs wearing a dirty wifebeater and no shoes?? i don't know.....

i do not feel awesome about taking one for the team.

things i DON'T want for mother's day

so, last week i did a post about things that i would like for mother's day. after seeing all of the ads in the paper on sunday, i thought i should now do one about the things i DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES want. ever. i am amazed at the crap the stores always want to push for mothers, especially in the jewelry department. now, i'd like it stated for the record that i am not opposed to all forms of 'mothers jewelry', just these particular lovelies:

this: (although i admit to having one of these back in 1997. i have no defense--i fell victim.)

or anything that says "mom" like these:

especially anything that combines the word 'mom' with a heart, which i hate because my sister hates hearts and sometimes she rubs off.....

and, finally, the mother of all mother's day no-no's for mindi:



this is the mother of all mother's rings and i JUST CAN'T.
 this ring tells me that the husband doesn't know how to give gifts.  and it makes me even more grateful for russ because he's an excellent gift giver.  the BEST, in fact. 

n purchase this with their low-interest, 72 month financing options.  at 25% interest.
ailable with a low-interest, 72 month e-z payment plan.