Well, the Weirdness Continues

Oh law, I had so many reminders about all the other weird things about me yesterday.  Several friends expressed concern that if you readers knew what a freak show I am, then you would abandon me.  Thanks, ladies, but I know my readers are loyal.  Or at least I hope so!

First of all- the way I hold my writing utensil. It's very ungainly and awkward looking.  You have been warned.

That's my list of things that were brought up to tell y'all about.

1.  Pic of pencil holding- done.

2.  Love for J.Lo and Beyonce.  I think Miss B. love is not that odd, because, I mean- she sings, invents dances and is married to a gangsta superstar who introduced Pharrel into my life.  Perfectably justifiable.  However, J. Lo?  I don't know- I just adore her.  MOH and Tins share this extreme love of all things Jennifer Lopez. She's from the Bronx, what can I say?

3.  Ah, the dinosaur.  Like I said, I can't burp.  The air has to go somewhere, and it takes a while before reaching your, ahem, other end.  So my stomach makes this noise, which I refer to as the dinosaur.  It's a wonder I've ever kissed a boy, as my tummy tends to begin its cacophony just in that moment when you are about to lock lips.  One of the best moments of all time. . .ruined by the dinosaur.  One sweet boy was very concerned that my tummy was rumbling due to hunger, and started feeding me potato chips.  Mmm , Zapps salt and vinegar make-out session.

4.  I can't snap, whistle or do a cartwheel.  Yeah, coordination is not one of my strong suits.  Hubs can not snap either.  Our poor offspring are either going to be the loudest finger snappers in the world, or made fun of in elementary school.

5.  I am always thirsty and drink a ridiculous amount of water, tea, and any other beverage that's calorie free.  When I was in Africa I drank 12 liters of water a day. 

6.  I refuse to listen to U2 unless it's raining, or night.  I have several other really weird music listening guidelines, but that is the only one which has been brought to my attention based on the former post.  If I think of any more I'll be sure to let you know.

I'm sure my friends will bring about eighty kajillion more quirks to my attention, but that's all y'all are getting.  Have a lovely weekend ladies!

Getting to Know You

So a lot of my friends have been asking me whether you dear blog readers know certain things about me.  Mainly quirky things. . .which it seems composes the majority of my personality.

1.  I never wear pants.  Seriously- pant suits and me look horrible (see Number #8).  I think jeans are extremely uncomfortable. 

2.  I can't burp.  Never have, and the doctors don't know why.  This makes drinking beer and my diet coke addiction rather uncomfortable at times.

3.  I refuse to drink beverages with calories besides alcohol.

4.  I read probably 3 books a week.

5.  I adore going to the grocery store.

6.  If I had my way, I would take a solid 2-3 hour nap every day.  Unfortunately, this lawyer gig gets int he way of my preferred napping schedule.

7.  I detest washing my face at night. . .then complain about my skin being bad.  Honestly, other than drying  my hair, this is my least favorite part of my day. 

8.  My body is shaped like a keg on toothpicks. 

9.  I am not a hugger or a cuddler.  However, I am a very friendly and loving person.  Just not a touchy one- although I've gotten better? 

10.  Hubs was my first serious boyfriend.  Up until the age of 25, I had a double whammy of commitment issue and a predilection for well, not-so-good guys.  Hey- girls just want to have fun, right?

Ha!  I almost forgot the biggest one!

11.  I can't hold my pencil, fork, spoon etc correctly.  My principal tried to hold me back in Kindergarten for this reason, but my parents got me tested and sent me through.  When I was taking the essay portion of the bar exam, the proctor came up to me and said "Samma?  I'm your third grade teacher, Mrs. Chambers!"  Ha!  She recognized me from the way I held my pen.  She said "Yes, when you came into my class, the principal told me you were slow."  (asshole)  "But once we started class I realized you were very bright, just really short."  Um, okay.

So- there's tons more, but it's actually very difficult to think about your own quirks, as they seem normal to you.  What's going on with y'all?  Give me the weird stuff!  I'll me checking and sharing, don't you worry!

Also, comment verification is back on, due to the 300 e-mails I had on my blackberry this morning from "Joe", some spammer.  Asshole.

The picture is from my trip backpacking across Europe with AK and Abby in 2001.  I think it expresses my feelings towards Joe well.

Instant Smile

Much like the fabled Stella of yore, after two debaucherous weekends, I cannot seem to get my groove back.  As soon as AK sends me some pictures of our ride in the back of a cop car to the opera, I'll get right on that story.  Until then, feast your eyes upon this-

Three goldens and one lab, all anxiously awaiting a treat, I assume.  The handsome guy upfront is Baxter, who has been with Kelen since college.  Now he lives in Charleston, and plays with his roommates and neighbors all day long.  Sounds rather like an ideal life, no?

Here's Baxter with all of us ladies in another ideal environment- college in Athens, Georgia. Oh, the days when debauchery did not faze me for weeks.. . .

The Battle of the Pouffy Tummy Man Continues

So I live in a condo.  A condo which is about to be the death of me.  I was planning on having people over before the opera Friday (a plan which I ending up scrapping in favor of drinks at a college-age establishment, but that will be a story for tomorrow).

I'm walking into the place, when I start having Africa flashbacks.  Hmmm, I sniff the air, looking for that unusual odor of burning trash that pervaded my existence there.  Then I realize.  I'm walking through a damn jungle.

This vine, was completely covering the windows when I moved in almost a year ago.  I raised hell, and it receded from my consciousness.  Now it is back.  Please keep in mind that our HOA fees are out of control expensive, and that they are supposed to cover landscaping. 

So when I talk to the landscape guy, he says that the vine needs to come down.  Uh, yes please.  So in order to do that, I need permission from the chair of the grounds committee.  Okay, who's that?

My neighbor.

The one who told me I was six-seven months preggers.  The pouffy tummy man.

This is not good.  I have to ask my self-esteem nemesis for permission to cut down the swamp-like growth in my front yard. Grrrr.

But then it gets worse.

The landscaper tells me nothing will grow in a certain patch because someone uses that patch as their own personal brush pile spot.  Full of junk from their private garden.

This pile comes up to my hips, y'all.  It sits there for weeks at a time, and completely filled the back of the landscaper's huge pick-up.  Guess who put it there?

Oh, of course.  My neighbor, the chair of the grounds committee.

Now, he not only a woman-insulter.  He is also a grass killer.

So advice on how to handle this one?  I haven't gotten up the nerve to knock on his door yet, but my preliminary plan is do get permission for the jungle to be removed first, then plant a bunch of flowers where he leaves his trash?  Thoughts?

Besides Asparagus Pee, Why I Adore my Friends

So like so many of you lovely readers, my friends were distraught at the injustice of me not winning the Paula Deen contest (hee).  Please note the following e-mail conversation:

A.S.S.: Unfortunately, Slammer did not win Paula Deen's contest, but she did make a great showing!

Me: Yeah, suck it Paula Deen. You are now my nemesis.

Kara:  Did y'all know that she wears a wig???

Kinger: Um I told y'all my mom said she was a biatch!!!!

Lippie: hahaha, that's amazing info, kara! i am officially boycotting paula as of now.

Me: Well, I wear wigs on my eyelashes. *

Kara:  I mean, you'd think she'd at least pick a nice wig! Her latest "hairstyle" looks almost purple these days...

Lippie: i bet the blue peach pizza girl bribed paula with butter.

Me: Apparently they don't like drunk blonde girls. Paula is threatened- I could usurp her. And I'm younger and skinnier

Hess: (obviously not reading the entire chain): Yeah, her hair/wig looks more purple than gray.

Me:  Maybe if I had purple hair she would like me better. . .

*I wear fake eyelashes a lot.  Like every time I go out.  I may be peeved at Paula, but I can't be a hypocrite.

Poor Paula Deen.  She likely had no role whatsoever picking the finalists for this contest, and now she is a bewigged biatch.

Dashed Dreams

So I didn't win the contest.  Sad.  I know if my lovely readers were voting I would have won, and I value your opinion way more than those judges.  Here's who won . 

Frankly- eh.  But that's probably sour grapes talking.  However, maybe I should have used more convenience, processed shortcuts in my recipe, like stuffing mix or canned peaches.

Okay, once again I need to stop with the bitter.  Apologies!

Moving to more cheerful subjects, I am super excited to meet Tennessee's new coach, Derek Dooley's wife today at a meet and greet for ladies only.  I think Hubs is a little wistful that we are not getting married this May, as the Dooleys are moving across the street from my parents.  Since the wedding was rather large and raucous, we had to invite most of the neighbors. Hubs has dreams of the coach (who in the land of Big Orange, is quite a celebrity) attending his nuptials.  Dream on, Hubs.

With losing the contest, Hubs being out of town for two (sob) weeks, and the jungle that is growing outside my condo, I have been quite the poopy puppy the last two days.  However, my mood is rejuvenated and I am ready for the weekend?  How bout y'all?  Anything fun going on?

Beach Blanket Bingo

So I have been thinking about this swimsuit from Modcloth for a couple weeks now.

The question is- will I look adorably Betty Draper and classic like these ladies?

Of course Grace and Marilyn make white bathing suits look easy.

Or will I look like an errant, pale, tattooed hipster that has somehow wandered onto the Tennessee River?

Thoughts?  The high waisted aspect looks very conducive to drinking beer and eating carbs without having to watch the poochiness of one's tummy regions, no?

Smoothies are the New Cheesecake

So MOH and I lately have been absolutely obsessed with smoothies.  More particularly the Blimey Limey smoothie from Tropical Smoothie Café. It's amazing.

MOH has decided that smoothie are the new cheesecake.  And much like the famed female consumers of cheesecake, the Golden Girls, MOH and I have been rocking the two for one smoothie specials via coupons normally favored by the elderly and published in the penny saver type mag.

Seriously though- you need to try these smoothies. They are around 200 calories and taste exactly like an Orange Julius (as does the Hawaiian Breeze).  Seriously, MOH and I have eaten these (drank?) these things probably 6 out of the last ten days. Frozen pureed fruit=springtime happiness?

When I get obsessed with something I will eat it everyday until I can't eat anymore.  Do y'all do this?  What's your latest obsession?

By the way, I'm having a Hawaiian Breeze for breakfast as we speak.  It's becoming a problem.

A Frank Discussion

Apparently it's been friendship week here on S&S, and I want to be appreciative of all my good girl friends today.  I am so blessed to have such wonderful friendships which I treasure dearly.  Whether laughing, complaining, or something in between of all the ladies are here for me, as I am for them.

The importance of having good girl friends was spotlighted last Sunday when MOH, A.K. and I were having a detailed conversation about asparagus.

And its um, odorous after-effects (MOH and I are intrigued by the side-effect and pro-asparagus, A.K. is anti.  I'm sure that they are really glad I just told the interwebs that).

The whole hilarious conversation made me thank my lucky stars for such good friends.  After all, who else are you going to have a frank discussion about asparagus pee with?

The Night That The Lights Went Out In Georgia (and all over the South)

I love that this one is entitled Crazy People in the South-




Like so many of us, I have always adored Dixie Carter.  I was so saddened to learn of her death from complications from cancer at age 70 on Saturday.  Based on title alone, I am ordering her memoir,  Trying to Get to Heaven: Opinions of a Tennessee Talker, on rush delivery.  Watching these clips makes me miss Designing Women so much.  Where are the shoes about women, and their friendships?  Where are the shows about people in the South?
Designing Women was such a classic.  Dixie Carter seemed to embody the style, grace, and fire that was Julia Sugarbaker.  Imagine her as a trial lawyer- fabulous!
I have always envisioned myself as a cross between the Sugarbaker sisters- opinionated, a bit vain, but fun. 

Dixie Carter was a class act, and my thoughts and prayers go out to her family during this time.

One more to fire us up for the rest of the week- this is everything I want to say so often-

Welcome the the World, Baby Girl!

On April 10, this dear girl had Baby Number Two!

Here's Baby Number One- who wore this ensemble to the hospital to see her mama and her new little sister.

Absolutely hilarious- tiara and veil!

Here's sweet baby Gray- just darling.

I couldn't sleep Saturday night, and Abby was up feeding baby Gray (who had was born roughly 12 hours before, Saturday afternoon).  We laughed and talked and laughed some more for about an hour and a half.

The next day, I was thinking about our conversation.  It's so amazing to watch your friends that you've known since you were babies yourselves, grow up and change.  Here's Abby, Tins and I at a Georgia-Ole Miss game- Abby obviously, was a varsity cheerleader for Ole Miss.

People used to get us mixed up as little kids- perky little blondes with big grins!

But, back to growth and change.  It's amazing to me.  Abby- who has always loved being the center of attention (which I say with complete love and understanding, as I do too), post labor, tells her darling husband to go home, spend the night with AH (that's their older daughter- Abby!  I can't believe you have an older and a younger daughter!).  Abby is in the her room alone with baby Gray, and is content.  She gave up needing someone there giving her love and affection, because she wanted her daughter to have some one and one daddy time and attention.  That is one of those little things that is seriously adult!

Here's the whole family pre-Gray arrival.  I am just so proud of Miss Abby for what a smart, positive, and wise little mama she is! Girl- you give me hope that when my time comes, I will grow as much as you have!  Love you and your girls! 

P.S. I know she is not going to be reading this for a while, as who has time to sit on the computer with a 2.5 year old and a newborn, so ya'll give Abby lots of love and encouragement in the comments.  That way when she is having one of those days, this will be here to perk her right up!

My Golden Retriever Matron of Honor

We'll do age before beauty- or rather older beauty before younger beauty, and talk about Tron today and Abby's baby tomorrow.

Sorry, Tron, but your competitor is only a few days old, while you're now the ripe old age of. . .well, I won't put that on the internet, but 29's not that old.  I mean, I won't be there for another 4 months, but it's not old! 

I can't exactly recall how Tron and I became friends- feeling it involved both of us wearing camo (?) at a party freshman year of college at Georgia.  Now, I have no idea why we would be wearing camo, or how I would have possessed any camo, so maybe she can elucidate this meeting for us.  However we met, our friendship was cemented for me by a Tuesday Thursday lunch at Bolton dining hall, then riding a bus together to our class after lunch.  Side note- the slogan of the UGA dining halls is "Let the Big Dawg Eat".  Why was I surprised when I gained the freshman fifteen in probably a month?

I'm not including many pictures from college of us as I am too young (being only 28) to die, and Tron would kill me.  So I'll just post (a few) pictures from after college.

Kinger and Tron- Athens post football game.

Tron's bach party down at the Beach Barn.  Me, Tron and A.S.S.

My bach party in NOLA.

With AGM in Athens- I'm getting fired up about football season already!

Kissing the pig at my wedding- which resulted in disaster, remedied by Tron, but that's another story.

A frequent discussion while laying around the pool in college (oh, how I miss that), was what animal we would all be (I think I am a lion- explains my affinity).  Tron has the best (in my humble opinion) animal of all- the golden retriever!  She is adorable, smart, friendly, entertaining and laid back- a classic. Up for pretty much anything, you never get sick of hanging out with Tron- probably why we still talk on the phone once or twice a week on our morning commutes without fail.  She keeps everyone informed of what our scattered best friends are up to- like our own personal status updater.  She's not the mouth of the south for nothing!  Love you Tron- happy late birthday!  But can you believe I remembered and called on actual day?  Amazeballs. Ha- I would have innudated the internet with far more, and worse, pics.  But these are what's in my computer- you got lucky, my friend.  Very lucky.

So many questions today- I want to her about your girlfriends, whether you spend hours dicussing what kind of animal you would be, and how you met.  Spill it, internet friends!

My Youtube Debut

So I have so much to discuss with y'all- Saturday was a huge day- Tron's birthday, Abby had her baby, and Dixie Carter, our beloved Julia Sugarbaker, passed away.  However, all of these wonderful and sad thing will have to wait til later in the week because I am too pooped to pop.
Why?

Because I have spent all of Saturday night and Sunday putting together this video.  I entered this Real Women of Philadelphia-Paula Deen contest, and had to submit a video tonight by nine.  I got done in the nick of time.  Mama, MOH and I drank (a good deal of) wine Saturday and filmed me cooking my recipe I developed- which uses the pimento cheese that I love so! it's super cheesy, but a great recipe so I thought y'all might want to take a gander at it.  Please remember the wine intake, filmed on a point and click camera, and that I am nervous as all get out.  I think that's why my accent is so damn thick, because I swear it isn't that bad in real life!  At least I hope so. . .

An African Wedding

So, valiantly trying to stay up for Top Chef Masters, which aired from 11-midnight(eek!) Wednesday night, I caught up with a mindless guilty pleasure- Jessica Simpson's The Price of Beauty (I know. . .)  Anyway, she and her cohorts visited Uganda (which along with Kenya makes up East Africa.  OK, I just said that and realized I totally made that up, I'll get back to you on the verification of that geography).

The particular tribe they visited fattens their women up, as it's a sign of wealth and status to have a fat wife.  The fattening takes discipline, as you sit as motionless as possible in a hut for two months drinking milk.  To Jessica, this was completely foreign, as she is part of culture where all discipline is focused towards thinness.

One weekend when I returned from a weekend jaunt to Zanzibar with my 3 far-flung volunteer friends, my Tanzanian Mama said to me "Oh, you have gained weight!  I can tell!  You are getting fat, my daughter!"

Yeah- that made me feel great.  However, she meant it as a compliment, and proclaimed that I was fat with pride for it meant she was taking good care of me.  Still- a hard cultural difference to swallow when you're twenty-two.

So Jessica, Casey and Ken got to go to a wedding.  I stopped watching at this point, because it was finally time for my Top Chef Masters hotties.  However, I was instantly brought back to the wedding I went to in Tanzania.  I wish I had more pictures of this kind of thing, but I was trying very hard to not be a mzungu, and draw as little attention to myself as possible- trying being the operative word. 

Let me set the reception scene for y'all-  orange and pink and white tissue paper decorating every surface of the big meeting area.  On top of the dais was two large white throne-like chairs for the bride and the groom.  In front of the chairs was a dead goat on a spit, hooves dangling in the breeze, head lolling to the side.  Interesting.  Of course, I had a dead pig at my wedding, so looking back I can't say too much!

There was an MC on  a mike narrating the entire ceremony.  This was not uncommon- I also went to a fancy birthday party, and an anniversary party with MC's, which was pretty hilarious in all honesty.  I was kind of zoning in and out, which was my tendency when confronted with long uninterrupted quickly spoken Swahili. 

All the sudden something grabbed my attention.  The word mzungu.  I quickly glanced around, praying that another white person was magically in the crowd, and he wasn't referring to me.  Nope.  Then he starts speaking in English.  This is problematic.  Apparently, having traveled the farthest (Tennessee to Tanzania) to attend the wedding, I am now the guest of honor.  Shit.  I have never seen these people before in my life, now I'm their guest of honor? Then I see them to start to hack into the goat.  Double shit.

Tomato-faced, I have to tentatively make my way through the crowd to the bride and groom.  I unsurely hug and kiss them in the manner my Mama hurriedly whispered to me, beaming with pride (she was a bit of an attention lover, to say the least).  Then, a piece of the goat is hacked off, and fed to me by the bride via a toothpick.  Everyone watched expectantly as I blushedly chewed, and smiled, and chewed, and tried not to grimace, and chewed, and chewed.  That goat was cooked til it couldn't cook no more.  Good thing I'm not a picky eater.

Baaaa.

The Story of my Ring

Thank you all so much for your lovely comments about my engagement ring!  Frankly, I'm shocked that y'all even noticed it- when I'm faced with images of cheese in any form, that's the only thing my hungry little brain can process.

The diamond is a family diamond, which my father had made into a necklace for my mom.  Quick back story- when my parents were married, Daddy didn't give Mama an engagement ring.  Her father (Papa Bruce) told Daddy not to, as Mama was about to inherit her beloved great-aunt's beautiful diamond.  Can you tell that Papa Bruce is a child of the Depression, frugal Scot-Irish man?  Daddy, full of youthful machismo, protested, but Papa Bruce laid down the law- the diamond was to come from the McCampbell side of the family.

So that's the story of Mama's diamond ring, which is gorgeous by the way.  I can't find a picture, but y'all trust me. 

Anyway, so she always had this necklace made out of a diamond which my Great-Uncle Joe (brother to my namesake  Samma, who is my father's mother), gave to my parents.  It was my grandmother Samma's father's diamond, which he wore as a pinky ring (eek!).

Here is Samma my grandmother as a little girl.

Here is this Samma as a little girl.

This is my adored Great-Aunt Helen, wife of long-deceased Uncle Joe, who was the giver of the diamond to Daddy (is this story getting complicated or what?).

So back to my Mama's bling and my ring.  When Hubs asked permission to marry me, Daddy said, "Okay, great.  Hey, you need to use this diamond that's been in our family for generations."  Hubs of course, gets a little blustery back, stating that he can buy me a ring, blah, blah, blah.  Daddy,  remembering his own days asking his futures bride's dad, states in no uncertain terms that if it was acceptable for him to use a diamond from his future in-laws, then it better be acceptable for Hubs!

I was exceedingly grateful for this, because, let's be honest here, I'd definitely wrapped that necklace around my  finger in the past to see how the canary diamond would look as a ring.  More importantly however,  I  love having the antique diamond that was my great-grandfather's, in a setting which Hubs picked out- it's a combination of my past and my future family.

Plus it's pretty.  Hee.