5 Things I learned while celebrating my 39th Birthday on Catalina Island

I am letting Tara guest post today because: 1. It was her birthday and I didn't get her anything. I am hoping I can convince her this is her "gift." 2. She posted this on Facebook and it really is too funny not to share, even though admitting she may be as funny, if not funnier, as I am makes my blood boil with rage. 

Enjoy

5 Things I learned while celebrating  my 39th Birthday on Catalina 

Island

1. Take the Dramamine. Even if you think you don't need it, you 

know what? Just take it. You won't be sorry.

2. There is no happy hour special worth walking 3/4 of a mile while carrying a 28 pound toddler.  There is a reason those tacos are only a dollar. Let it go.  

3.  Sweaty, shirtless old dudes with beer bellies standing in the sun listening to crappy Santana covers... they're on Libby's team (my apologies to any sweaty, shirtless old dudes who may be reading 

this. I didn't mean you...yes I did.)

4. Dogs should not ride in golf carts. They are clearly humiliated.  And not just by the fact that their owner is wearing a "Wastin' away in Catalinaville" t shirt.  A dog driving a golf cart, however, is fine.

5. Catalina Island is very beautiful and we had a great time and now it can be added to the list other things I need never do again. Like rock climbing, nudist weekends and watching Lars von Trier movies. 

Just kidding-I've never watched a Lars von Trier movie.

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Hate PETA? Blame Libby

Today's guest post comes from Susanne over at Married Geeks. She also has a background in media, which gives her an excellent insight into just how crappy a person I really am. She also lives in Nevada, which means she has a lot of time on her hands when she is not playing Keno. I think those two facts come together nicely in this piece. Enjoy.

The whole news story about PETA being upset with President Obama for swatting a fly is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever heard in my life. Seriously? This shit was headline news!?

As I was reading these riveting “headline” news bits about how PETA was issuing statements about Obama’s “execution” of the fly, I thought here is a perfect opportunity to blog about some absurd topic and really put PETA in its place. We all know PETA peeps are preposterous, so it was an easy target, I know. I even swing to the left, but damn, these people are so far gone to the left they can’t even step out of their front door in their plastic shoes for fear they will step on a gnat, can’t even drive their leather-free cars because heaven forbid they hit a bee on their drive to get their raw food supply, and they can’t even do beer bongs at their bonfires for fear of spewing it back up on some unsuspecting ant that, let’s face it, was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I sat down to do my research and found some really great articles like the one about how British scientists have come up with the perfect way to swat a fly. I was going to talk about the real news flash, you know, that flies are almost as big of a nuisance as PETA is! I wondered if there was a group of scientists out there that would invent a swatter of some sort to smack the stupid out of these people.

And then. Then I decided to actually go to PETA’s website to see this rant first hand. I’d go to the proverbial humanely-treated horse’s mouth to help me get all fired up, so I could get all smack daddy with their collective fur-free asses. And what did I see? An explanation that said THE MEDIA had hounded THEM for a statement the second the sound of Obama’s smack on his arm stopped resonating through all the news media geniuses’ heads. Granted PETA’s statement was moronic, claiming “the president isn't the Buddha and shouldn't be expected to do everything right.” Well, no shit, vegan Sherlock. If he were perfect, he’d be Libby, right?

So, I say if you are pissed off that the little fly that could(n’t) was headline news, I say we blame Libby, not PETA. After all, she’s all jiggy with the gnat-squashing, bee-murdering, carnivorous media.

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Open Letter to Ryan

Today's post comes from Sarah, or hell, I can't tell which. All I know is that she is hot...

Dear Ryan,

If I remember correctly we met briefly at an Eels concert a few years ago. I was the ditzy blond drunk on vodka tonics with a nerdy scientist in tow.

I don’t know you well enough to ruin your marriage, but I’m going to anyway.

I know you THINK you are happily married to a woman who adores you, but you’re not. She’s living a lie. I know you’re confused, so let me explain.

A few weeks ago Libby and I met at the pub for drinks and dinner. We had a grand time. We spent a few hours shit talking while gulping wine, because that’s how we Utah girls roll. We have a lot in common Libby and I. We are both friends with Yocom and we both could happily live inside a bottle of wine.

Back to my point…

When the bill came Libby refused to let me pay for my own dinner. I think it’s clear she’s trying to date me. Why else would she pour glass after glass of wine down my throat? She was trying to get me drunk so she could take advantage of me. Don’t you worry, Ryan, I didn’t let her. I was far too interested getting the goods on a cute guy she knows BECAUSE I AM STRAIGHT.

I apologize you had to learn of your wife’s indiscretions via a blog post, but it’s my only option. I’d come over to your house and talk to you face-to-face, but Libby would likely try to dry hump my leg and I haven’t shaved this week.

Enjoy your vacation.

Best,
Sarah

P.S. If it’s not too much trouble could you swing by Trader Joe’s and get me a case of Two Buck Chuck? Thanks!

P.S.S. Dude, you had to see this coming. She wears Crocs for hell's sake.

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It's Like a Your Mama Contest, Only Meaner and We Really Should Be Too Old for This But We're Not

I am on vacation this week, and I promised Ryan I wouldn't document every moment of our trip. So, instead I have enlisted the help of some of my favorites out there to help you pass the time. First up is Kim, the evil genius from Yellow Trash Diaries. I'm not quite sure what she wrote, she wouldn't let me proof it, so I hope it isn't too awful...

It has come to my attention that Libby has been acting rather peculiar of late, and is beginning to scare one of the temp girls at work. According to my source (who would rather not be named because she has small children and a mother in a nursing home and you just never know what Libby might do when she's angry), she has been coming to work this week with her makeup like this...

and the other day she was dressed in her pajama pants (the ones with the dancing alligators wearing sunglasses). Apparently this was not on purpose, and she was outraged that no one had brought her little mistake to her attention. Her co-workers were baffled and shrugged to each other-- She looks like that all the time, but one well-meaning soul took Libby's tirade to heart and called her on her attire the next morning. Um, Libby, I think you accidentally wore your husbands clothes today-- only it wasn't an accident, and they weren't Ryan's clothes. Needless to say the poor girl spent the rest of the day in the bathroom crying after Libby got through with her.

So what, you might wonder, is causing all of this turmoil? Apparently Libby has been beside herself ever since she realized that I now have more followers than she does. Some of you may remember the little contest we had a while back to see who could obtain 50 followers first, and although she somehow managed to emerge victorious in that duel (I heard she had people at work on the phones like a Jerry Lewis telethon, and she really shouldn't be surprised at all the crazy late night phone calls she receives after throwing around the I'll be your best friend line so much), she has been living in fear of the day when the student would surpass the teacher. Well, that day has come, and she has been writhing in agony like a garden slug who's had coarse salt poured all over her. The only way to end her suffering is to take her up on her challenge to renew the contest-- first one to 100 followers wins. It's the only humane thing to do, and I'll give her appropriate credit for any followers I collect while she is on vacation (along with several other handicaps for...well, for just being Libby. Honestly, I don't even know if I can enjoy a win over her now-- just doesn't seem fair.) I think she'd have a better chance if she competed against me using her other blog EatSLC, as I believe that is where her best writing takes place.

And now before I leave this lovely site, I'd like to share a funny story about our dear Libby. It was during a Christmas party at the office X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X XX X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
and now that poor guy has a phobia about closets and shudders every time he sees mistletoe. Gee, I hope Libby doesn't edit that because it is hilarious and I'm sure you readers won't judge her too harshly for such inappropriate behavior. She's lucky that Utah is one of the few states that doesn't consider acts like that involving a small rodent to be illegal.

Enjoy your vacation, Libby-- I will be awaiting your return.

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House Hunting Horrors

Every young couple has that day when they venture out into the world of real estate to buy their first home, and then retreat in horror after seeing the shit that is for sale. When Ryan and I first started looking for a home four years ago we started out with such high hopes -- that vanished after the first three houses we saw. We were almost positive we were either going to have to sell our kidneys, or settle on a home with slanting floors, shag carpet and "wood" paneling. It was like a miracle when we finally found our house. When Tara and Kent were looking for a home last year they were pretty sure they were either going to have to take a two bedroom (they wanted three), or move into a neighborhood where bars on the windows aren't just a fashion statement. Eventually though, they found the house perfect for them, just like we did.

Now it is my friend Lesli's turn to find a home, and she is facing the same horrors Tara and I, and all other house hunters have faced. However, unlike us, she took along a camera, and a sense of humor. So, Lesli, take it away and show us what you found...

This was pretty much a ginormous wood cabin in the middle of residential Orem.

Smelled like a sauna on the outside and a brewery on the inside.

This bedroom is where they kept the bad kids. Why else would they move the door handle so high?

I'm going to take a wild guess they did their ironing in this room.

Besides the beer cans in every room, there was a much more "tasteful" display of "vintage" alcohol bottles here.
Can you say "White Trash"?

A former in-ground trampoline pit, or should I say, child death-trap.

Don't bother doing laundry before you show the home or anything.

This room was made for me!

If the Jim Carey autograph comes with the house I'm sold!

A FULL LENGTH SUPER WIDE mirror IN THE SHOWER!! I don't know what's scarier,
the thought of looking at myself naked everyday or washing the stupid thing.

Industrial soap dispenser in the bathroom. Why didn't I think of that?

Industrial toilet paper dispenser. Now we're talking!

It's nice to know that while the housing market may fluctuate, the quality of the houses do not. There will always be an abundance of "fixer uppers" available that really should be called "tearer downers." And they will always be shown to young couples in the hopes they will fall for the delusion that a crap house is all they can afford. Hang in there, Lesli, there are better homes out there, and your perfect home is out there. Oh, and once you find it, Ryan and I have a ton of "vintage" wine bottles you can have to class up the place...

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Guest Post Friday: My New Attitude

Earlier this week I wrote about my attempt to gain a positive attitude -- and I really have been trying. However, the change is not being met with the rainbows and unicorns I expected. That brings me to this week's guest posts from one of my "favorite" co-workers, Jen. Please don't hate me after reading it.

Most of my work days start with me entering the lobby of the station, walking down the hall toward the newsroom, and spotting Libby at her computer putting together the noon show. At that point I try to size up the level of attitude I am going to receive, but proceed to say “good morning” anyway. Most mornings I get a smirk and if I’m really lucky a middle finger. I think Tamara describes my interaction with Libby best -- “you’re poking a bear with a stick.” So imagine my surprise when two days ago and I entered the news room I got a huge smile and a “good morning” back.

At that moment I stopped dead in my tracks and looked around for the hidden camera. “Come again?” Libby then proceeded to tell me that she is trying out her new “positive attitude.” WTF??? Thirty four years of bad attitude and you spring this on me now? I realize I haven’t known her all 34 years, but I had gotten used to ignoring her bad attitude and having conversations with her anyway. That bad attitude has become an endearing quality for me. Kind of like your bitter great aunt that has B.O. and no teeth but you love her anyway.

I have been so stunned by the “new Libby” that for the past two days I have been quizzing her on this decision. I can’t wrap my brain around it. I actually resorted to asking her about it and got the following answers thrown my way:

“Maybe snarkiness is too popular now and I’m going against the grain.”

“I was Hair Metal now I’m Nirvana”

“Are you being Reed Cowan to my Chris Buttars?”

Look, I’m not a hater. If Libby wants this then I will support her. It’s just that my world is off kilter. There will be much love for Chris Buttars, no more worries about workplace manners, the worry lines will fade on their own and the “25 things that don’t suck” list will grow without even trying. What is the world coming to?

I just don’t know how to relate to a positive Libby. I have “poked the bear with a stick” for two days to get her to crack; and from what I can tell Libby is determined to make a change. So Libby good luck to you, however if you do find yourself returning to the dark side, I want the first middle finger you dish out.

Oh, yeah, Jen, don't worry, you'll get it...

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Guest Post Friday: The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword

Today we start a new feature here on LibbyLogic that may or may not catch on: Guest Post Friday. Our first guest poster is Candice Madsen, whom I work with in the world of television. Candice recently discovered one of my darkest secrets -- I steal pens. Really, I do. If you are missing a pen right now I probably have it. I'll let Candice explain how she discovered this little known fact about me...

I need to disclose a little known fact about our dear friend Libby Mitchell. She steals pens. Yes, you heard me correctly. Yesterday alone, there were had two separate incidents. Luckily, I stumbled across her antics by accident and brought her office supplies pilfering to an end.

It all started when I arrived a little bit late to our morning meeting (OK, since I'm outing Libby I should confess I'm always late.) Anyway, I couldn't find a pen, so I asked Libby for one. She hesitated and then produced a rather nice looking pen from her purse. I grabbed the pen and slipped into the meeting. As I began doodling away, I noticed the pen is labeled "Bell Havens." I couldn't believe the coincidence -- four years ago I stayed at a Bell Havens Time Share in Cabo. I ran to tell Libby.

"Libby I didn't know you went to Bell Havens."

"What are you talking about?" (Just picture the classy Libby look and tone.)

"The pen, you got it from the Time Share."

"I've never heard of Bell Havens."

Then it hits us both. Libby stole my pen!

Getting caught apparently prompted Libby to come clean. After the meeting, she admitted she had stolen a pen from the news director, and gave it back. Stealing from the boss, now that takes guts.

"Thanks Libby. I was looking for that," he replied thinking she has merely found his pen. He then explained how the pen fit in this nifty little holder he got from marketing. "Do you want me to get you one?"

See Libby, all you had to do was ask. I left a box of Bics on your desk. I hope it gets you through the winter!

Um, there were no Bics on my desk. So, I may steal pens, but Candice is a liar. If you would like to guest post here on LibbyLogic, just leave a note in the comments. I'll get back to you...

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