The Banana Republic of Tana

I hate you.

I hate you for your tan.

I hate you for your tight t-shirts.

I hate you for your money.

I hate you for your highlights.

I hate you for your closed-mind

I hate you for your inability to tip.

I hate you for your daddy’s credit card.

I hate you for your 2008 SUV.

I hate you for your pearls.

I hate you for your house.

I hate you for your comments.

I hate you for your looks.

I hate you for your upturned nose.

I hate you for your parties.

I hate you for your attitude.

I hate you.

A girl at work wants to get a dog, and I have been futilely trying to convince the poodle is the way to go. No matter what I say, she continually refuses to take my word for it. Below I have listed the top ten reasons everyone in America should own a standard poodle.

10. They don’t shed
9. They are very intelligent, listed only behind the border collie according to the AKC
8. They can run up to five miles a day
7. They only destroy that which belongs to them
6. They have more versatile hair than Kid N’ Play
5. They live longer than any other dog their size
4. They are great with kids
3. They are very versatile.
2. They love you unconditionally
1. They are cuter than other being on earth. Here is proof:

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

I don’t know if this is appropriate or not, but when I have ever adhered to etiquette rules so don’t judge:

A building in my apartment almost burnt to the ground this morning, and it got me thinking about what five material possessions Iwould keep here is my list:

1. My pair of size four jeans that are probably mis-labeled but still make me feel like one skinny bitch and I may need to look good because when one lives on the street, tricks are much easier to come by when you looking fucking good.

2. The DVD to the Big Lebowski, because I may need a distraction from woes of street life

3.  My laptop to watch said DVD and arrange for said tricks on Craigslist

4. My copy of the Social Problems in Perspective, because I will need to know that someone has it worse somewhere

5. My fishing pole. As the proverb goes teach a man to fish and he eats forever.

As a well-trained sociologist (if a minor counts), I have studied the American husband at length, and would like to take this opportunity to report my findings.

The worst months to be the wife in American culture are Sept-Jan. During this time, the American husband becomes another person.  He spends hours on the internet researching the optimal line-up, finding the perfect spread, and following the message boards as if they were a religious text written solely for the betterment of footballfankind.   Date night is replaced with Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday night games. If husband and wife do happen to go out to eat on said nights, the husband ensures that he is optimal T.V. viewing position at the local sports bar.  At said bar, the husbands reverts to using language preferred by his early evolutionary ancestors by grunting in response to any questions the wife may ask.  Football replaces all other pastimes for the husband, his only concern is for game. The wife is no longer allowed to touch the remote, and the cable box must stay on ESPN when a game is not being shown out of fear the husband may miss some important announcement pertaining to his team.  The husband’s emotions are controlled only by an oblong ball, for it holds an oracale like power to predict the husband’s mood. If the husband’s team successfully handles this piece of pig flesh, the husband is undoubtedly happy for the remainder of the week. However, if said team fails, the husbands mood will also fail. The American husband is sad, primitive and ape-like creature during the fall and winter months. This researcher recommends that they be avoided at all cost during this time.

This research has been dedicated to Abbie (she is only other person who can truly relate)

Just when I think that I am an having a horrible day, the dude will lay right at my feet and suddenly life ain’t so bad.

Now that the summer of the wedding, as I have decided to refer to the past three months, has passed. I can finally get connected to my normal life again. Here is my first go at it

To change or not to change?

Whenever I first decided to get married, my gut reaction was that I was keeping my last name. Adam was okay with my choice, he knows that my name has no bearing on our relationship. Everyone else though, not so happy for it. I see the judgment in my married friends eyes, I hear the question in the tone of the bank teller, and I feel the wrath of mother well whenever the subject is broached.

People always asks me why, and I honestly haven’t really come up with one solid answer that renders the naysayers silent. It’s just this feeling that I have. My name is my name. Something about giving it up almost feels like I am giving up a piece of myself.  Becoming less me, and more mrs.

Part cinq…i think

This past week, I  have been training the newest edition to the First Watch crew, or as I like to call him, the next idiot to be sucked into the vortex that is waiting tables. Anyway, training is something that I really take pride in, I think that I am a fairly decent at my job, and after four years, I know my way around the restaurant. Well anyway, this guy is like 26,  really dorky looking and completely full of himself, you know the type.

On Wednesday, I have to train him to close which means I have to be there by 8. Well, I walk in the door at 7:59, and clock in on time. He is standing, no lurking, by the time clock and looking at his watch. He informs that I a good employee is always 10 minutes early, and that he would appreciate it if I were on time. I have known this guy a whole day. He is my inferior, and he starts my day by telling me when to get to work.

I let the whole time clock thing pass, and we start the training  process for the day by looking at the training manual. (It’s broken into a series of tests that the trainee takes everyday).  I was looking over what he had done yesterday, and on the back of his manual he had made a list of all the things he thought that I had done wrong the day before! I asked what that was, and he said “i think that this restaurant, especially you, could really be improved with my help.” I laughed in his face. For the rest of the day, I just let him wait on my tables by himself, and then I kept all the tips. He deserved it, for being an asshole.

Adam and I have been planning (more like buying plane tickets, because honestly it is that easy) our Las Vegas wedding for months now. Most people react positively and praise us for our frugal choice. Others, however, are not as open to the idea. The worst reactions have come from the over 60 crowd. Most notably, Adam’s Grandma.  Ever since, we told her that we had decided to forgo a church wedding, she has been a little bit hostile, in fact a lot hostile. Every time I talk to her, she always tells me that she cannot believe I (not we, because Adam can do no wrong) am preventing her from seeing her youngest grandson married. I just got off the phone with her. She called to tell me about a bridal magazine that she that outlined ways to have an affordable wedding in your hometown. After explaining to her for the millionth time that WE chose to have our wedding in Las Vegas because it makes life a lot more simpler for everyone involved. She offered to plan a wedding at home for us, in fact she would be honored to. I tried to let her down easy, and tell her no nicely, but it just didn’t work. The phone call ended up with me telling her to kindly butt out, and her telling me that God would never recognize our marriage. I know that eventually I will have to call and apologize and try to get her to understand that a Vegas wedding is what I want. To do this I have written the following reasons why:

1. My parents are broke, and the whole thing is costing less than 1000 dollars.

2. I hated looking at stupid crap like place settings, and table runners.

3. I haven’t once cried, and I have seen many a bride-to-be crying because of something to do with planning.

4. I won’t get fat from trying a bunch of different flavors of wedding cake.

5. I am not going 40,000 dollars into debt for something that lasts forty minutes.

6. I know that my wedding is about Adam and I, not the presents that we receive.

7. I have never once envisioned a huge church wedding, it is selfish to force the five hundred people you know to travel hours to watch something that will bore them to tears.

8. I work 32 hours a week, and go to school full time, and the last thing I want to do is spend my hour of free time I have a day looking at potential venues.

9. I don’t have to address, lick, mail or even think about a single invitation.

10. I am happy with my choice, and anyone who isn’t doesn’t matter. I know that my wedding day will be just as special to me in las vegas, the county courthouse, or catholic cathedral.

Okay I kind of gave up on the whole blogging thing awhile ago, but I have had several requests for updates, so I am going to try from hear on out to make all my faithful readers smile. I am going to try to update every Friday, but I don’t always follow through, so don’t get angry if it doesn’t happen.

Last Christmas, my sister suggested that I read the Twilight Series. I laughed in her face. First of all, I am way too old to read books written for eight-graders. Secondly, everything about the fact that people were so crazy about them made me hate them even more. These are the reasons I told her. Honestly though, I was secretly afraid that I would really like them, and I knew what that would mean about literary taste and did not even want to go there.

So, when I saw the first book on sale at Hastings on Monday. I had no intention of buying it, but I did. I finished it that night and unfortunately I was hooked.

YES, I know that that I am 22, and should be reading books that mean something, but come on, I am only human right?

Well since Monday, I have now finished the series. (INSERT JOKE ABOUT TANA HAVING A LAME LIFE HERE). So Spring, this is my formal apology. You were right, I did like them. Now if you could just tell me how I can get all these posters of Robert Pattinson to stick that would be amazing.

As an animal lover, and Ron Mexico hater, it shocked me to hear that the NFL is actually considering to let this monster back onto the field. I am appalled that it would allow someone of his low class to reassume his throne in the public eye. By doing so they are condoning dog fighting and everything for which it stands. If they allow him to resume his position, I will never watch another NFL game, and anyone who cares about animals in the least should do so as well.