Entries Tagged 'Lists' ↓

• Coffee mug Flickr pool
• I missed Mimi. She’s a blogger I once read long ago and forgot all about.
• Wordlustitude
• Wage is getting really good.
• God, I love Bob Powers.
• This is pure sweetness. Little Bean.
• I’m going to be spending time crafting this week. I’m excited.
• I’m already buying Christmas presents. Go me. No waiting til the last minute this year.
• want
• I’ve decided on a Halloween costume. It will be badass.

Why the hell not? I can’t think of anything else to write about over here. I already have a lists category on this site, so why not write the motherlode.

1. My full name is Brittney Lynn Gilbert.
2. I grew up on Rosehill Court.
3. I had a tire swing growing up, and it was awesome.
4. My sister and I shared a room until I was nearly in high school.
5. I like bread!
6. I struggle hard not to eat meat.
7. I have a sick, sick like of fast food.
8. When I was little I lied about needing glasses.
9. I was really mean to my sister until I was an adult, and I am profoundly sorry about it.
10. I prefer the bath.
11. I want to think more about Buddhism, but am scared to start.
12. I drink Sugar Free Red Bull. A lot.
13. I usually order three beverages when dining out.
14. I’ve broken two bones five times.
15. I have shitty posture.
16. Zoloft. I take it. It does a Brittney good.
17. I use a form of birth control that other women find icky.
18. Red wine or tequila. Sometimes both.
19. I’m incredibly impatient.
20. Lifelong nail biter.
21. If we hold hands, my thumb has to be on the outside.
22. I lie a lot. I can’t help it.
23. I do not know how to dress myself.
24. I want to dye my hair really blonde, but don’t due to the maintenance involved.
25. I have no one to give my business cards to.
26. America’s Next Top Model is my favorite show on the air right now.
27. I haven’t gone to a Twin Peaks festival only because I have always been too poor.
28. I don’t believe in God.
29. I don’t think, anyway.
30. I’m not ashamed to tell people that I don’t believe in God, and that shocks them.
31. I love my dogs more than I can describe, but I like one more than the other.
32. I think about having children daily.
33. I still want to move out of Tennessee.
34. Never had a cavity.
35. I rarely shave, cause I don’t really have to.
36. I once had a mullet.
37. Egg yolks gross me out.
38. I am a very picky eater.
39. I could eat sushi for every meal.
40. I’m lazy.
41. I am not a neat freak.
42. I am not a good cook.
43. I love movies, but rarely go to them anymore.
44. I cry easily.
45. I dislike most people, and really enjoy spending time alone.
46. French fries and buttered popcorn with funnel cake for dessert would be my final meal if ever executed.
47. I am against capital punishment.
48. I am pro-choice.
49. This probably makes me a hypocrite, but I’m okay with that.
50. I could never do a back handspring.
51. I work out in spurts, never regularly.
52. I’d love to drop twenty pounds, but can’t give up cheese and chocolate.
52. And french fries.
53. I really like the boyfriend’s family.
54. I’d just as soon not get married. I think it is an antiquated institution, and have seen too much divorce to want to get in on that action.
55. I don’t like olives. Barf.
56. I once got a DWI, and had to go to jail.
57. I am surprisingly forthcoming, and am not that good at keeping secrets.
58. I don’t read books at all anymore since starting that job where I read all day.
59. I miss books, and it makes me sad.
60. I am a professional blogger, aka blog producer.
61. Some people think I suck at that job and should be fired.
62. I started a cheerleading blog. In order to try to make money.
63. It’s only been three days, and I’m already losing interest in the cheerleading blog.
64. I’m shy, but am rarely ashamed.
65. I use the internet to be who I wish I was in real life.
66. I was the one that wrote that about Michele on the bathroom stall wall in high school.
67. Ooh, Law & Order is on!
68. I am going to be on the air once a week starting this Friday.
69. I dig unicorns.
70. I used to be scared of the dark.
71. I love airports.
72. Kevin Arnold was my first true love.
73. My ears don’t match.
74. I wear a size 6 shoe.
75. My Dad taught me CPR and the Heimlich maneuver when I was very young, and I still feel like I could save you if need be.
76. I like the act of handwriting.
77. I buy lots of journals, but never fill them up.
78. I like tiny, little, miniature things. Like that tiny little steaming cup of coffee that was a Mac icon a while back. Love it.
79. I want to dress as a character from Twin Peaks for Halloween.
80. I fear I won’t do it right.
81. I can’t decide between Laura wrapped in plastic or the Log Lady.
82. I regret losing my virginity when I did.
83. I think dogs are hilarious.
84. I used to think I didn’t like dogs.
85. I went a little crazy for a while.
86. I have been envisioning myself out of body since I can remember.
87. I like electronica.
88. I have a girl-crush on Parker Posey.
89. And Amy Sedaris.
90. I like the hell out of that anime series LAIN: Serial Experiments.
91. All the art on our walls were painting or created by the boyfriend’s sister. Except for the unicorn art that was bought at the thrift store.
92. I enjoy kitsch.
93. I loved Los Angeles, and wonder why everybody hates on it.
94. I hardly ever remember my dreams.
95. I suck at math, but still want to learn to get good.
96. I laugh at America’s Funniest Home Videos. Hard.
97. I too often wait to live.
98. I am nearly always fearful.
99. I can’t stand watching figting or boxing.
100. I wish I had more friends.

• If I ever saw Woody Allen there I would knock him into the
  water and say GIT AWF MAH ROCK UR GIV UP SUM JOHANNSON PUSSAH.
• Well what is up bitch tittes.
• And the other day, I was walking in from the car, with my hands full of
  groceries and the shorts fell down and I had to just walk out of them
  and into the house.
• Milk, even when frozen into a baseball-bat shape, is nigh worthless as a baseball bat.
• I assumed the utterly useless crane stance from the first Karate Kid
  film and almost didn’t hear him elaborate by telling me how he had just
  finished repairing the elevator or ask why I was standing like that.
• Yeah, man, he kicked the shit out of Santa Claus just last week, and I was shocked ’cause I thought Santa was psychic.
• Just rip and tear your way to CRAZY TASTY town!
• Hello, you who found this site by searching for AVON KIDNAPPED MY BABY, I hope they gave it back.
• Brooklyn Supreme Court, you are not fucking around, and I respect that.
  Now let’s see if we can’t get some of that justice tossed ‘round my way.

• Free drinks. Man, I never bought anything to drink (excluding alcohol, of course). As a server and bartender I always had access to all kinds of beverages, and helped myself to them liberally. I’d snag Perriers behind the bar, or come in for free coffee fifteen minutes early in the morning. When I felt sick to my stomach I could choose from an assortment of herbal teas accompanied by fresh cut lemon to soothe my nausea. All without paying a penny.
• Good food all the time. It’s a good thing waiting tables requires an extended workout, because I was always surrounded by scrumptious food I eagerly partook in. Sure, much of the time I was starving and surrounded by beautiful dishes with no chance of eating for four more hours. But after work each night I’d end the shift with smoked salmon and goat cheese mousse or baked brie with crositini. After my lunch shift I’d splurge on hummus and feta salads or crispy fried green tomatoes–not exactly things I whip up regularly at home. These are foods a girl could get used to, and did. Now I have to pay full price plus tip for all that gourmet goodness, so I madly miss the daily meals out.
• Weekdays off. I never fully realized how glorious it was to go to the gym at 1 p.m. on a Tuesday when everyone was working. I always took for granted grocery trips in the middle of the day on a Monday, with their wide open aisles and short register waits.
• The server "tax break."
• Never having to decide what to wear to work. Strapping on an apron over all black for ten years left my wardrobe somewhat lacking. And tattered.
• Wine tastings.
• People who work in restaurants are often very funny. At least to me, anyway. I miss the laughing.
• Late night television.
• Drinking on Monday and Wednesday and Friday and Saturday. Then directly after Sunday brunch.
• The constant cursing.
• The customers. I got so used to interacting with a revolving assortment of freaks and fools that I took it for granted. In fact, I didn’t so much like the majority of them. That isn’t to say I would like them today, but I miss the fodder. I miss getting a glimpse of human nature for an hour or so–witnessing their joy over a new engagement or watching them struggle to choose a wine to impress a new date. I saw many tears and many missed chances. I miss peeking in on people at their most primal–eating–and investigating what I saw that day later in my writing. I think I miss that most of all.

• Just 22-months older than my sister, I wanted her to do everything with me. Before she had the physical ability to walk I would drag her around the house, banging her against everything and giving her rugburns. I also tried to teach her to talk. Most of the words I taught her were wrong.
• Little sister and I hit puberty about the same time, a time when Titty Twisters were especially painful due to budding breasts. I would wait for her to yawn, stretch her arms and then I’d go in for the twist. She was guilty of this torture as well.
• I would write her evil notes threatening to murder her in her sleep.
• I picked on her for being overweight. This is the one I regret the most. I cry if I think too much about what I said.
• In high school she would leave much earlier for school than me. I had an awful habit of going into her closet after she left and taking whatever I wanted for myself. I’d show up to school later wearing all her shit, and she would get so mad. So she started locking her bedroom door. So then I just used a coat hanger. Poor Mus.
• When I was about six and she was four I’d trade her nickels for dimes, because I’d convinced her nickels were bigger which meant they were worth more.
• I would listen in on her phone conversations when I wanted to use the phone.
• Or I would simply pull the cord out of the phone jack, resulting in an all out fist fight.
• Once I ratted her out. I’d gotten in trouble for something so minor, like not making my bed, when angelic Miss Amy had been sneaking out her bedroom window every night for a week, so I just blurted that out. God, that was so not cool. She was grounded for weeks.
• I can’t leave out the time I ran over her foot. (Scroll allll the way down, last entry.)

6:00 am: Awake to the sounds of the boyfriend and Tootie getting ready for their day.

6:30 am: Awake fully after the boyfriend leaves, at which time my dog attacks my face and forces me out of bed. (Which is good, best alarm clock ever.)

6:45 am: Check email and placate dog with treats while mentally preparing to walk her in 17 degree weather.

7:00 am: Walk the dog. Terrorize squirrels.

7:20 am: Browse newly updated local blogs and email news director with an assortment of headlines gleaned from them.

7:40 am: Skim both daily newspapers.

8:00 am: Shower. Play endless game of In and Out with the dog. Dress.

8:20 am: Make-up and teeth brushing and lunch making. Feed and water the mutt.

8:40 am: Leave for work. If I’m lucky.

9:02 am: Arrive at work having heard tail end of NPR. Buy Diet Coke from break room machine.

9:05 am: Check email and blog posts made since early morning. Listen in on morning editorial meeting. Make notes on possible posts for later, especially if the story is intriguing to me but isn’t covered by a videojournalist. Check Dooce.com, Electrolicious.com and DefectiveYeti.com. Then Gawker and Defamer and Egotastic and Go Fug Yourself and The Superficial. (Don’t tell the boss.)

9:45 am: Update scrolling banner ad for WKRN.com and other sites. Check the wires for new and blogworthy material.

10:00 am: Open Bloglines and begin visiting recently updated weblogs. I like to visit each site rather than read from within Bloglines. Weird, I know. I use the shit out of the tabs in the Firefox browser. I really do get carried away. I often times crash my computer doing that crap. But I have this mountain of blogs to scour every day, I feel like if I open a bunch at once I’ve gotten a lot done. Then I start clicking them closed. Blogs about dreams or post of just song lyrics or just reprinted news stories get shut immediately. I post about things sometimes off the cuff, and other times I let posts simmer, adding more and revising before publishing. Many are, frankly, cut and paste jobs. I want people to read those posts, but not every link requires my commentary. Besides, by the end of the day my brain is so fried from reading sometimes I simply cannot work. Words swim together and stringing together even a single sentence seems daunting. That’s when you call in the coffee.

12 noon: Update scrolling banner with any new or breaking news. Consider lunch. Read Fark.

12:30 pm: Continue blogging.

5:15 pm: Put the brakes on the blogging. I’m often very ready to go by this time.

5:25 pm: I clean up links and misspellings (if I catch them). I return emails and watch the newcast from behind.

5:45 pm: Hit rush hour traffic toward East Nashville. Attempt NPR but am overloaded by news by then. I usually opt silence. Blaring phones and televisions and reporters are in my ear all day, so by this time I’m ready for the blissful sound of nothing.

6:15 pm: Enjoy my dog and the boyfriend and maybe a glass of wine.

9:00 pm: Out. Stone cold sleeping.

• I really hate what this place has become. I don’t think the quality is suffering, but boy howdy, the quantity is down upwards of 90%. It’s just, every time I sit down to blog here I see the faces of the people I know that read it. Starting today I vow to post every single day, even if I think it insignificant and ridiculous. Which is what happens a lot.
• In the meantime, things are going well over here. I still like my job, despite the ever increasing sprawl of my ass. We have people take over the blog on the weekends, and they all invariably say (except Bill Hobbs) they have a new appreciation for my work. It is mentally exhausting to read all day and write and engage. And emotionally, too, at times. My skin is thicker that it has ever been thanks to the Nashville sphere of blogs. (Though, I really owe it to the early trolls like wreckage and pog. You guys made me the callous bitch I am today.)
• The dog is a fucking mess. This morning on our walk she stuck her snout into a pile of leaves and pulled out the rigor mortis-ed carcass of a squirrel. I only know this because there is still a tuft of hair at the end of the long tail. If not for the hair I’d have thought it was just a fucked up stick. This was not the first or even the fifth time she has picked up this decomposing squirrel. Oh no, somehow she finds it every time we walk. Because when she moves it we are unable to remember where that fucker is. And every time she gets it in her mouth she throws her head back and chomps on it, with a gleam in her eye. And I wig out. I have to try to get her to put it on the ground so I can step on it with my foot (!) and force it out of her jaws. This is always a bitch, because Tootie loves Rigor the Squirrel. So much. She hates to give it up, and I hate to have to take it from her.
• I got a french press for my desk. It’s little (I bought it at Davis Cookware) and makes just one giant cup’s worth. I love it.
• I switched to the East Nashville Y after working out at the one in Green Hills all that time. The East Y pales in comparison to that suburban bohemoth. There are less fine-assed women to stare at for duration inspiration, but there is also less Fox News. Even trade.
• Dorinda Carter and I have been invited to the Metro Firefighter’s Christmas Breakfast (read: omg firemen can cook, yay biscuits) on the 22nd which is a Thursday. It starts at 9. I am trying to figure out a way to attend since that is the hour work begins. Perhaps I can go in early and tag team a VJ piece with Dorinda on the breakfast. The firefighters could use some good press these days.
• I need glasses, but my Mom gave me money for glasses for Christmas last year and I ended up using it on bills, I think. Now I feel bad about asking her again, but really that is all I want. To see.
• I haven’t had a haircut in a year. Twelve months. So gross right? I know. I’m trimming my split ends, but oh man is it long. I guess behind glasses, I’d really like a haircut, too. (My haircuts and highlights are an expensive affair.)
• I am training to run a 5K. I haven’t picked one yet, but I’m looking. I have weeks and weeks to go.
• Running makes me hungry so I’m going to try to convince the boyfriend to take me out for tacos and beer.

The boyfriend was charged more than eight times for a phone that costs more than $200. He’s called Amazon.com 16 times in attempts to rectify their mistake. Here are some of the things he has said to various (idiot) Amazon.com associates:

• Oh my God, you suck at your job. May I please be transferred to someone else? Yes, seriously. Anybody but you.
• You are basically saying I should trust you when you have done nothing but proven to me that you cannot do what you say you will do.
• You guys are fucking this up so hard at every turn, at every opportunity. I really don’t know how I can handle this any differently.
• No see, that is what I have done sixteen times, and I keep getting a different answer. In the meantime I am unable to use my checking account, I can’t buy groceries, you haven’t shipped my item and I haven’t gotten the same the same answer twice.
• I just want my phone, ya know? That’s it. And I couldn’t have imagined how this could have gone more poorly, unless I were to get hung up on, which has happened twice tonight. Yes, really…Well, you didn’t know I called this morning, so that doesn’t exactly surprise me.
• You mean you know I’ve called sixteen times, but there isn’t a single note about the conversations that were had? I mean, what the fuck?

• She’s incredibly affectionate. She likes to lie in our laps. Or stand on us while we lie in the floor. She is as sweet as she wants to be. (I wrote this last night on the couch and had to use just one hand because if I stopped petting her she grumbled and pushed her head into me.
• Girlfriend’s vagina is an outtie.
• She is very much like a cat. I was on the couch and my sister was sitting in the floor when Tootie jumped up over the back of the couch. That is like four and half feet. She didn’t even get a starting run, because we heard nothing until we heard the digging of her claws into the back of the sofa. Amy was facing her and said she had a look of sheer terror on her face.
• She likes to dig. They told us that when we adopted her. "Likes to dig. Hates cows." (It was written in three different places–"Doesn’t do well with livestock.") They didn’t lie about the the digging part. In her sleep she, out of nowhere, just starting digging as hard and as fast as she could on the back cushion. There are now two big gashes in the fabric. Good thing I hate this couch and am dumping it as soon as possible. (We’ll be sure to let you know what happens if we ever happen across a field of cattle.
• The bitch snores. The shitty couch is her domain. We come in from outside and she straight hits the sofa.
• She’s a snuggler. She loves to spoon. Or she’ll shove her head between my leg and the arm of the couch and just snooze. She loves to sleep spread eagle. No wonder she got knocked up, what with the outtie vagina to boot.
• The boyfriend said she saw a rabbit on her last pee trip outside last night, and she took off like rocket. We weren’t sure if she would do anything but lie around, but she darted after the rabbit who cleverly found its way through a small opening in the fence. Tootie, not so clever, followed suit and got her head stuck in the fence.
• Have I mentioned she sleeps all the time?
• She likes the hedgehog we bought her, but not the squeaky bit inside.
• She pees and poops outside no problem. She doesn’t jump up when you ask her not to. She rarely barks. Her only problem is wanting on our bed. The boyfriend says this isn’t a good practice baby and that we have to get another dog.
• We put her outside when we are eating and she’s totally cool with it. She can’t stand to not be touched when she’s inside, but I left her alone today for the first time and she was fine.
• She has a fluffy, curly tail and short hair. She stands like a pointer with her front paw lifted. We’re thinking pointer and golden retriever mix.
• She’s not so fond of the bath. She dealt with it but you could see the disdain in her eyes.

• No puppy yet. This weekend I think.
• Mates of State is my new favorite band. I sing, "AND WHERE’S MY ARM?," all day in my head.
• My mother bought the boyfriend and I a 5-piece dining set and a new coffee table. How do you say thank you for gifts that big? The table is nice, cherry finish and black padded chairs. We hope the dark woooden table will be a nice contrast to our medium brown hardwood floors. (If not, we’ll get a large rug.) Best of all the table has a pistol drawer at the head of it. It’ll be delivered in a week or two.
• I’m really excited about "The Biggest Loser" coming back on. But not as much as "Lost." Everything else? Eh, not so much.
• The boyfriend has mowed the grass twice since we moved in a week ago.
• Autumn is just around the corner, and I feel like I live in a new city. I got my GED in VJ training (Good Enough Diploma). A new house. With a puppy on the way. And two new tables and padded chairs to match my padded ass. Life is good.
• I can’t wait to take pictures of my new neighborhood. The bars on the windows will make for a nice foreground/background photo. Heh.