Tag Archives: misty stocksdale


Thanks to @kylerohde for turning me onto a new site.  I found videos that were hysterical, but best of all, I found a picture of this cat/keyboard shirt, that I’ve pasted below (Link to the source site is attached to picture).


This shirt reminded me of all the hip, slick and cool shirts I used to wear when I was a little girl – back when I couldn’t understand why nobody outside of my family wanted to be my friend.

I like to look at things like this and ponder: “How in the world did somebody come up with such a thing?”

I mean, seriously.  I guess I imagine some cat enthusiast, who happened to be an artist, was sitting around one day and thought to himself, “I think I’ll fuse a few of the most inspirational things I can think of, and I’ll display them all proudly abreast a T-shirt!  I’ll combine my passion for music, with my infatuation for physics and my love for felines.  I’ll come up with some really outstanding pictorial of cats, playing keyboards, in outer space!  And each cat will be wearing a different colored T-shirt – That’s it!  Cat’s on a T-shirt, wearing T-shirts!  It’ll be brilliant.”

I’m saving my money so that I can afford to splurge on this random piece of apparel.  I’m going to buy it and wear it proudly.  Every time I put it on, I’m going to think of the insane creativity behind the piece of art; I plan to derive a great deal of inspiration from this future purchase.  Don’t be surprised if you see me rockin’ it at our next encounter.


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If At First You Don’t Succeed, Beg.

We splurged last night and decided to dine at Longhorn Steakhouse.  No bread with butter.  No sweet potato with brown sugar and caramel sauce.  No croutons.  But we did get to eat something other than chicken for a change, and we even had a little ranch dressing atop our leafy greens.  It was so great!

The food is always yummy at Longhorn, and the service is typically pretty top-notch.

“Paul” was the name of the waiter-fella who helped us out last night.  He was a real go-getter.  He broke the ice at our table by letting us know that if we needed to get his attention, we could just feel free to “throw the salt and peppers shakers” at him.  We didn’t take him up on that offer.

Paul brought our waters out right away.  Our salads took a little longer than they should have, though.  We probably waited a good 15 minutes for them – but Paul did unnecessarily top our waters off a couple of times during this period.  “E” for effort, Paul.  When Paul brought our entrees to the table, Rick had to remind him that he had requested a side of sauteed onions.  Paul apologized, and returned with the side item promptly…and he topped our waters off a third time.  We were more than well-hydrated.

All in all, our dinner was very nice.  Paul dropped the ticket, Rick handed over the plastic, Paul re-dropped the ticket with the plastic in tow, and walked away.

But just as Rick pulled the ticket out of the little, black book, Paul was back again!  I thought to myself, “If this boy tries to pour more water into my glass…”  But no, Paul had something to say:

“Hey guys-Just wanted to say sorry for my head is a little spotted right now…I just found out today that my dog that I’ve had since it was 1 which is now 10 might have to have leg surgery, so I’m just not quite in it tonight.  Just wanted to let you know and thank you again for being so understanding.”

Um.  Awkward moment!

When Paul walked away, Rick looked up at me and said, “Is that a last ditch effort to beg for a better tip, or what?”  I just kept trying to shove steamed vegetables into my face to keep myself from laughing aloud.  But then Rick (my dear husband who is going deaf, I swear)  leaned in and said, “What exactly did he say?  Did he say that his dog had to have Lasik surgery?”

At that point, I lost it.

dog glasses

Like to learn more about dogs that require leg surgeries?  Here’s a fun-filled posting about a little dog that had to have a 5th leg removed.  No, I do not believe that Paul is related in any way to this particular dog.


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Fat Fingered, Funny Monkey

Evidently, I have earned a set of the world’s fattest fingers.

My dear, sweet husband surprised me last night by turning off my existing mobile flip phone, and replacing it with a fancy, new touch phone.  I was so excited and I felt very loved.  But all of the warm fuzzies were immediately followed by feelings of confusion, ignorance and utter bewilderment.

I not only have no freaking clue how to use my little Blackberry Storm, I find that when I attempt to use it, I end up pushing buttons accidentally and deleting email messages without intention.

I even took my little phone back to the Verizon store (twice) to get a little rundown.  Those kids just buzz through the phone and punch the little buttons like it’s their television remote control.  When I leave the store, I feel semi-confident again; but I quickly find myself fumbling around on the high falutin’ touch-screen key pad like a monkey on the self check-in terminal at the airport.

They tell me it will “take some getting use to.”  Gee I sure hope so.  (This could get very embarassing, very quickly).



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Dungeons & Big Rubbermaid Tubs

I spent the entire day yesterday in my basement.  No, I was not sent down there for punishment.  I ventured into the dark, scary basement on my own freewill–I was on a mission.

I walk through the basement every day at least twice a day while traveling to and fro my car.  As you’ve probably gathered, my basement is unfinished–it is not much more than a massive hole in the ground with crumbling concrete walls and corroded, wooden ceilings.  I suppose that has almost everything to do with my lack of prior initiative to keep the space neat and orderly.  Nonetheless, the basement drove me nuts–on a daily basis–until yesterday.

I hauled away a stuffed-full Home Depot lawn bag containing my old clothes and an additional box of apparel that once belonged to Rick.  (He is out of town, so I doubt he’ll even know it’s missing).  I also threw out two garbage cans full of crap and I reorganized the Christmas shelves.

After I dropped off the clothes at Goodwill, I found an old 4-drawer filing cabinet (the really big, long kind) that was being sold for 5 bucks!  The top drawer needed repairing, but I was on it!  I used that file cabinet in the basement to organize all of the spraypaint, canned paint, cleaning supplies and automotive crap (cans of things that I have no idea what they do).  These items had formerly been sitting in tubs, cluttering my space and existing completely unknown to mankind.  Now, for example, if I need to paint something in the color “Lilac Blossom #232,” I know exactly where to go.

I also marked all of my tubs and I used the dresser drawers of an old dresser (that is literally on its last leg) for storage purposes, as opposed to mere aesthetics.

I washed a bunch of stuff and I reorganized some of Rick’s tools (another no-no, I’m sure).   I ended up working for a solid 9 hours.

When I was done, I showered up and ate some supper.  I was hungry and dirty.  My hands had touched things that I’d just assume forget about.  I was thirsty and tired.  But I did feel extremely accomplished.

After I was clean and fed, I decided to walk downstairs to get a satisfactory glimpse of my long, hard day’s work.  I hit the bottom of the stairs and I made a scan of the newly renovated dungeon and…it honestly looked no different than when I started 9 hours ago.

I guess sometimes in life we do things not for glory but strictly for good measure?  Whatever.  That’ll be the last time I clean out the dungeon.


This is probably a pretty good pictorial of what I looked like cleaning the basement.

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My Arm Has A Fever

We travelled to the country this weekend.  Rick bought a new man-toy a few weeks back but due to the weather, he hasn’t had a chance to  play with it.  So, we took the little four-wheeled motorcycle out to the country so he could ride around and be manly.  I rode once and that was enough.  Then I wandered around the beautiful property and [evidently] rolled around naked in a field of poison ivy.  Ah, yes.  Every year, it seems, I am able to expect a rampant case of bumpy arm–thanks to Mother Nature.

Today, my left arm is swollen up so hard that it is getting in the way of my typing abilities.  It is hot and sore and I wish I could pop it like a pimple.  That’s right!  I said it!  And my left ear is swollen shut so it’s hard for me to hear normal…and my left eye looks like my husband socked me cold for talking out of line, or something.  I would like to go home and eat a big, fat dose of Benadryl and go to bed.  And I would like to eat some warm cookies, too.  (Because when you don’t feel good then you are allowed to eat whatever you like, right?)  Anyhow–That’s where I’m at for today.

(Oh, and yes of course this is a picture of me with red hair and leafy pasties–My makeup is just a little different).



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Nothing News.

I tend to avoid the televised news at all costs (sorry Mr. John Holt).  If it’s not being overloaded with depression and gloom, then it’s being pumped up with cornball, hairbrained clips that are (in my opinion) extremely useless and irrelevant.

Such was the case last night.  We sat down for supper a little early, so instead of catching The Wheel, we caught the 6:00 news.  Good grief.

They did a big news spot on this local teacher lady who has deemed  herself the “Queen of Frugality,” I think–and they aired footage of the many ways in which she goes about cutting corners and saving a buck.  Here are a few of the enlightening suggestions I picked up from the teacher lady:

  1. If you don’t have the money for it, don’t buy it (Novel, right)
  2. You can make a pot of spaghetti, portion it out into little plastic containers and eat for .33 a day
  3. Slightly used furniture can be found on street corners, and then reused in your own home
  4. Wal Mart is the devil–If you avoid Wal Mart you will refrain from impulse buying and you will save money (No shit)

Boy am I glad we took in an early supper.  I just wish we would have watched this “news” piece prior to so that we could have utilized the spaghetti trick.


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We grocery shopped for the week yesterday afternoon.  I understand that prices for all things, for all people, are increasing all around us.  But I would like to know why it is that lettuce, of all things, has skyrocketed to double its former price?  Isn’t lettuce grown quite similarly to carrots?  Beets?  Celery?  These items have suffered only marginal blows.  But I’ve watched the leafy green stuff jump from an affordable and friendly .70 a head to $1.89 a head in no time flat!  Cheese louise!  I suppose I’ll just be glad that carrots, beets and celery haven’t followed suit and hope to heaven that they don’t any time soon.


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I Wish I Could Sing

I don’t think I have too many jealousies in life (okay, that might be a straight up lie–I probably have many–but I try to keep them at a minimum).  But I have to say, I am extremely jealous of people who can sing.  I have many other talents.  For example: I can eat 3-5 hot dogs with buns in a 5 minute sitting, I can bake the best batch of peanut butter cookies you’ve ever tasted and I can argue a formal debate at the national level.  But singing just wasn’t one of my God given talents. 

I’ve always known this, too.  It’s not like I used to really aspire to be a singer as a kid or something.  I always knew I had an awful singing voice.  Ever since the day I self-recorded myself on my little purple tape player when I was about 8 years old.  I remember playing it back and thinking, “Oh dear.  Who the hell is that?  Certainly that’s not my golden voice.  It definitely doesn’t match the one that I hear in my naive little head…” 

Well, from that day on, I adopted the habit of lip syncing in church and in the car.  But in 5th grade, Mrs. LaPort forced me into the school choir.  At my school, the entire fifth grade class was the school choir–all except for myself and Nick (the boy who sat in the back of the class and played with rubber bands and glue for 7 hours a day).  Quite frankly, I would have just assumed sit in the classroom with Nick and have special “creative time.” 

I remember Mrs. LaPort saying, “Misty, you need to be in choir.  I’ve signed you up.  Now, I am going to play the piano and I want you to sing.  I need to find out whether you are an Alto or a Soprano.”  I had no clue what these Chineese words and I was embarrassed as all hell that this woman was going to make me sing in front of her–out loud! 

Well, as I said, I did become a member of the 5th grade choir.  I was classified as a Soprano.  At the end of the 5th grade year, I was not encouraged to continue on with my singing career by my music teacher.  But that’s okay.  I went on to conquer bigger, better, less nerdy things like Debate. 

I still listen to those people who have voices unlike mine–and I wish mine were more like theirs.  But then I think to myself, “Could they argue both the Affirmative and the Negative of any resolution presented to them in the span of an 8 minute time frame, dig out necessary disadvantages, offer a counterplan, keep an organized flow and back a frazzled partner–and maintain a hair-do that looks anywhere near this good? ”  Probably not.   I guess we all have our niche.


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Who Drinks That?!?

Anybody else ever bothered to notice that the diet soda/caffeine-free drinkers are completely discriminated against in the fountain drink world?  That’s right.  If you drink diet soda, you can sit down at any restaurant or walk into any quick shop and choose from at least 2-3 different sugar-free options.  And if you’re just a caffeine-free person (or if you’re my 8 year old step-daughter after 12:00 noon) then you can guarantee that you will be given at least two different options (usually some Sprite-like substance and root beer).

However, if you require the combination of the two, you best not get your hopes up.

Good thing we’ve got water, I suppose.

Well, obtaining a CFD (that’s my new abbreviation for Caffeine Free, Diet) drink in a public setting may not be something to look forward to anytime soon.  But the folks over at Pepsi have hooked us up!   They’ve started shelving CFD Mountain Dew in grocery stores.  HALLELUJAH!  Life is good again.  I’ll just continue to carry an oversized purse and I’ll take my own CFD Mountain Dew wherever I go.


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Blog Balancing Act

I am responsible for the company blog at my job.  I enjoy this responsibility–I am allowed to write as “myself” and I am given a fair amount of leeway in terms topic.  I am, however, restricted to the confines of home remodeling concept and content.  Yippee.

Therefore, I have decided that I shall attempt to manage two blogs in my day: my professional, corporate blog and my personal, not-so-corporate blog.  We’ll see how it goes.



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