Ode to Stephen Colbert (not in haiku form)

Surely you have seen this by now:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLAMhTorPCk

Genius. Jimmy Fallon and Stephen Colbert had a bet. Stephen lost, and therefore had to sing Rebecca Black's now-famous "Friday" on Jimmy's show. And then the world became a better place.

Stephen and I go way back. Meaning, I jumped on the bandwagon about the same time everyone else did. Also, I went to his rally when I was in DC. And I can't believe I never told you about it.

Not to be outdone by Jon Stewart's Rally to Restore Sanity, Stephen latched on with his Rally to Restore Fear. The result? The Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. Politically, I think I was a little outnumbered that day. But it sure was fun. And needless to say, Mr. Colbert is a hoot and a half.

Making an entrance--Chilean miner style.

Jon brought Cat Stevens (or whatever his name is now) to sing "Peace Train."

Stephen brought Ozzy to sing "Crazy Train."

Fighting ensued.

But then the O'Jays came out to sing "Love Train," and all was well.

While the rally itself was hysterical (and worth standing in a two-by-two foot space for six hours), I'd have to say my favorite part was the signage:

Just trying to make a statement, I guess.

So controversial!

My third favorite part was getting to meet some *other* Chilean miners...

Thanks for letting me reminisce. And sorry for getting you stuck on "Friday."

Hope you're having a great weekend, and in the words of Rebecca Black and Stephen Colbert, "partyin', partyin'... YEAH!"

Ode to Old Navy (in haiku form)

I like your cheap clothes.

Your commercials are quite weird.

Your tank tops are cute.

Search sometimes fruitless.

But it's all about the hunt.

Khaki shorts are fun.

Excited for spring.

Please keep the cute thongs coming.

By that I mean shoes.

Some make fun of you.

I say, "Good, more deals for me!"

And then I punch them.

The end. Happy Spring!

traveling light

I cleaned out my closet and attic last weekend.

Hi, my name is Brittany and I am a hoarder.

I've been feeling the need to rid my life of all unnecessary junk, and Saturday was the perfect opportunity. Like with any huge cleaning job, things got a lot worse before they got better. It wasn't pretty, and at one point I found myself in the fetal position. While the process was painstaking and miserable, I did find some wonderful treasures along the way.

Like my beloved Tomagatchi Game Boy,

Don't pretend you didn't have one.

a "My Bundle Baby" pouch (that ACTUALLY KICKED),

I never realized how bizarre this toy was until now.

and my life's work from fifth grade.

1) Flying to London over the Pacific Ocean? Come on, Brittany.

2) This Mack character sounds like a creep.

And then there was this:

Just hangin' out in front of a waterfall with Simba.

I'm not including a picture of the small jar of my baby teeth that I found. You're welcome. I was really proud of those.

Even though it's been a joy to rediscover these lost relics (minus the teeth), I don't mind letting some of them go. I have the urge to purge, a desire to simplify.

I want to travel light.

It is becoming more clear to me every day that this world is not my home. And with the earthquakes, wars and disease, I'm really thankful for this. I know I've mentioned Donald Miller on this blog before. I don't take everything he says as absolute truth, but I do appreciate his perspective on a lot of things. Like his perspective in a blog post on Grappling with Control and the Fear of Dying:

"This whole following Jesus business is largely about giving Him control, or more, realizing we don’t have control to begin with. And a great way to measure whether or not we’ve given Him our lives is to ask ourselves if we’ve given Him our death. By that I mean are we are okay with the fact that some day soon we are going to part with all that we’ve made, all that we’ve done, and no longer have an ounce of control over what happens on the earth?"

How I went from Tomagatchis to death, I do not know. But I do know this: the grass withers. The flowers fade. My Newbery Award-Winning book will turn to dust. And that's okay with me.

I do love my life and I have been abundantly blessed in my short time on this earth. But I have also heard the Lord whisper, "Don't get too comfortable, kid. You ain't seen nothin' yet."

I'll trade my Game Boy any day.

JibJabbin'

Last year I thought I had the smartest, funniest, most thoughtful idea. I would make my friend a JibJab video for her birthday. I giggled to myself as I thought about her reaction. It was going to be her favorite Facebook post, for sure.

For more than an hour I sat in my apartment and chose a video template, uploaded pictures, and meticulously cropped our heads to look proportionate to the bodies. As I clicked "Done" and looked for the URL code, I was greeted with a nice message that congratulated me on my new video. It also told me that it would only cost $12 a year to become an exclusive member at JibJab. It also wouldn't let me post the video without paying said $12.

You're now looking at a card-carrying exclusive member of JibJab. Be impressed. Or tell me I'm the biggest sucker in America.

I've decided to take full advantage of my credentials and make as many of these babies as possible. I know, JibJab videos were so 2009, but I'm still entertained nonetheless. I'm riding this fad train to the last station; I've invested too much time and money to turn back now.

Please enjoy my latest creation. Kenneth Parcell and I had a blast at Soul Night at our community center last weekend. Hope you like our moves (as well as our many wardrobe changes).

So how did my friend like her video? Unfortunately I had a mild lapse in judgement and decided on the "Farting Office Birthday Song." Turns out that's not the most tasteful video to be posting on someone's wall. But I know she appreciated the thought, even if it was crude and a little unbecoming.

Be on the lookout for more videos in the future, and don't be surprised if you get one of these for your birthday. I'm about to go do some ribbon dancing with Justin Beiber. Peace!

True Brit

Get it? Like the movie True Grit? Aren't jokes so funny when I have to explain them?

Remember Emma, my friend who is in grad school in London? Remember when I said I would crash her flat?

Being a woman of my word, I hopped the pond with my friend Alison two weeks ago to fulfill my promise (or threat) to visit Emma. As it turns out, Emma is actually living a in a fairy tale. No, she isn't psychologically disillusioned. Her life has literally been ripped from the pages of a storybook.

She is getting her Master's from Regent's College. This is what her school looks like:

Can this really be considered "school"? It looked like one of Bert's chalk drawings in Mary Poppins.

Only without the merry-go-round. There were talking penguins, though.

She lives here:

Sigh with me.

And she gets to do this every day:

tea and dessert twenty times a day

Emma really has become a True Brit. She knows London like the back of her hand, which is a good thing considering Alison and I would have surely perished without her. She was a gracious hostess, and even let us sleep in her bed while she slept on a half-inflated air mattress. That is love.

We had a blast and took the city by storm. My favorite thing we did? That's like asking me to choose my favorite child (if I had about 50 kids with names such as "Going To The Cotswolds" or "Seeing The Funniest Bar Fight At A Pub In Oxford"). Nevertheless, I'm gonna go with "Being With My Friends In London." For sure.

My least favorite part of the trip? Easy. Getting pooped on.

How does that even happen?

We hit the "big" sites like Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, and everything else you would expect to visit in London. But my favorite memories were in the unexpected moments.

Examples include:

lurking in some graveyards

dropping by my old neighborhood

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not really Asian.

napping in the museums

celebrating Valentine's Day

klassy

getting lost but not really in a hedge maze at Henry VIII's palace

dead end

seeing the big guy himself

pretty nice guy, if you forget about his wife-killing tendencies

meeting new people (even if they didn't speak back)

this guy was such a bore

hanging out with our friend Ann Elizabeth

portable friend courtesy of Alison

and planning our next trip!

Just kidding, Emma. We'll give you some time to recuperate. So is next week good for you?

showers and murriage

I sure do love a good shower.

No, wait... not the shower you're thinking of. Although I do love to be clean and I enjoy solving the world's problems while humming and working up a good lather. Do you feel weird right now? Me too. Let's quickly move on.

I'm talking about wedding showers. There's just something about the food, the celebration of love, and the food. I had the privilege of helping throw a shower for my wonderful friend Bethany and her (also wonderful) fiance Nick.

Nick's last name is Murray. Hence the "murriage" title. Felt the need to explain that one.

It was a gift card shower. It was also co-ed (oh snap!).

We played some fun trivia games,

ate lots of delicious food,

put Beth's first shower "in the books,"

and celebrated our sweet friend as she enters into this exciting new chapter.

Can't wait for March 13th!

hibernation

Hello there.

I really shouldn't be writing right now. My first post of 2011 is actually defying the laws of (my) nature.

You see... I'm hibernating.

What? You thought that was only for animals? You were so wrong.

Hibernation is defined as a state of "sleeping in, reading reformed theology blogs, and praying no one sees you in your ponytail and no makeup as you purchase multiple pints of ice cream at your local Piggly Wiggly." It can also include a new fascination with Scottish music, the show How I Met Your Mother, and Space Bags.

12 sweaters?! In that little thing? I can't wait to clean my closet... tomorrow.

Some people feel guilty about hibernating. Not me. I think this season is a gift, and it is serving a purpose. Maybe "hibernation" is a misleading term. I don't want to insinuate dormancy. Let's just call it "restful preparation." Or restration? Ehh. I'll keep thinking about that one.

Birmingham's ICE-MAGGEDON 2011 has only intensified my inert lifestyle. I've been iced in my house for the past two days. This is a whole new level of hibernation... err... restration, and it has brought its fair share of benefits. It's been refreshing to step back, rest, learn, be with family, and put away all efforts to impress. I've also had a lot of time to talk to myself. Yep, you heard me. I read this today (in a blog... surprise!):

"The main art in the matter of spiritual living is to know how to handle yourself. You have to take yourself in hand, you have to address yourself, preach to yourself, question yourself...

You must turn on yourself, upbraid yourself, condemn yourself, exhort yourself, and say to yourself: ‘Hope thou in God.' And then you must go on to remind yourself of God, Who God is, and what God is and what God has done, and what God has pledged Himself to do.

Then having done that, end on this great note: defy yourself, and defy other people, and defy the devil and the whole world, and say: ‘I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance, who is also the health of my countenance and my God.’”

-D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones

While I'm very much enjoying this period of "storing up," I am looking forward to busting out of this cave pretty soon. Or at least getting out of my icy driveway. There are only so many books I can read, and I'm quickly running out of brownie mixes. I've also pulled some muscles while playing the Wii, so that's out. No judgement, please. I tried to make my dog pull me into town, but that didn't work out too well.

"MUSH, BOY! Get me to a Target asap!"

In the meantime, I'll be filling up Space Bags, listening to Scottish music, eating Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, and talking to myself. To restration!