LOST

Troy just got Netflix for us and we can stream movies right into our XBOX which I think is very cool and quite possibly a technological act of genius. Especially after spending so much time as a kid at Blockbuster or Orland Video picking out tangible VHS tapes by hand. I am exhausted just thinking about that. I bet our kids will marvel at that like we marvel at our parents using 8 track tapes. Anywho, we decided we wanted to get into the show, Lost, and so we have downloaded season one. I am sure that most of you reading this lowly blog are thinking, 'What cave have you just climbed out of if you are only just now watching Lost?' It's true. We jumped on the band wagon a little late considering that they are no longer filming new episodes and it first aired in 2004, but better late then never.

Saying the Troy and I are obsessed with this "new" show is probably an understatement. In the past 72 hours we have watched like thirteen or fourteen episodes and are dreaming about it every night. Last night, I dreamt I was Kate, (who by the way I think is awesome, even though she is a criminal and totally hiding something, I love her and think it would be cool to have her role) and I was running through the jungle wearing my awesome cargo pants and tank top that shows off my ripped biceps when suddenly, I woke up in my own bed next to Troy. The first thought I had was, 'I wonder if I am having a flashback?' Then I shook the cobwebs out and realized that I was in no way affiliated with the show and went back to sleep, rather disappointed, I might add.

Isn't it awesome when you get so sucked into a show like that? I love watching shows on DVD because you can stay connected with the storyline. When I lived with my friend, Krista, we became obsessed with the Gilmore Girls DVDs. We would stay up way later than we should have because one of us would look at the other and say, "one more?" and then we were zombies the next day, yet we would repeat this same process the following night. I don't think we got a good night's rest until we watched the last season, and then we were super sad that it was over.

To be honest, the only reason why I am typing this blog right now is because I am trying to kill some time before Troy gets home so we can watch the next episode of Lost. When we aren't watching it, we are talking about it and apparently dreaming about it. We are only partway through season one, so don't throw out any spoilers for us, but seriously, that show is messed up . . . . in an awesome way. Who is in the jungle? Who are The Others? Are we going to see more of that crazy French lady? What is Kate's real secret? (I think think she might have a kid.) Where is Claire? Who just up and kidnaps a pregnant lady?

OMG, I love this show. And not just because it is nice to see Matthew Fox make a successful comeback since Party of 5, but because the show is just plain awesome. Plus Jorge Garcia is super funny. Though strangely enough, I don't think he really slims down through the seasons . . . that's kinda odd considering they are on a deserted island, running constantly from the freaky things in the jungle and there is nothing to eat besides the wild boars that Locke hunts . . . hmm . . . still, I love it.

Holy Kryptonite, Batman!

If I were Superman, my kryptonite would be extreme heat (like anything over 85 degrees Fahrenheit) and extreme hunger (like I haven't eaten anything in a couple of hours.) Though I have known this about myself for a while, that kryptonite snuck up on me like sly fox yesterday.

We have been keeping our windows open because the weather has been nice lately, especially at night. And since our air conditioner cools our upstairs as well as a person with emphysema runs a marathon, it is usually hot when it's time for bed. Yesterday, we came home from church and after fixing lunch, I was rocking some pretty, healthy sweat glands. So, I thought I would change into some cooler clothes, throw my hair up in a pony tail and try to drink some ice water. None of those things worked. It was slowly becoming hotter than Hades in our house. I am pretty sure the devil, himself, walked in and said, "Dang! It's too hot for me!" and then left. Anywho, while I was sweltering, I kept thinking about lizards. Weird, I know, but stay with me. You know how lizards run faster when they sit out in the sun and are more lethargic when they are in the shade? I kept thinking about that and how I wished that was true for us. Although there is the slight warm-blooded/cold-blooded difference that has to do with our energy levels and if I was cold blooded, I couldn't live in Minnesota. Well, I guess I could hibernate for the winter like frogs, which are also cold-blodded but they are amphibians and I was thinking about lizards.

I know what you're thinking. 'Pam, turn the air conditioning on. We already know that you are an air conditioning snob.' It's true. In fact, Troy, seeing me sweat puddles across my face, told me to do the same thing. But it was too late. The kryptonite already had its radioactive grasp on me. I was too weak to move from the couch. I couldn't even change the channel on the TV. I only had the strength to move my eye lids from an open to a closed position. Thankfully, Troy is not effected by kryptonite. I suppose he is more of a Batman super hero. Though hot and uncomfortable, Troy swiftly leapt from the couch and bolted to the thermostat to adjust the temperature. After closing all the windows, he allowed the air conditioning from our floor vents to blow at his cape. Then he turned to me. After realizing that the house was slowly getting cooler. I started to regain my strength. Troy saved the day! He's a hero and very dreamy, might I add. The krptonite was becoming smaller and smaller and I am happy to report that it is completely gone now.

My other kryptonite, extreme hunger lasting up to a few hours, can also be very debilitating. My brain shuts down. I can only communicate via Morse code that my stomach rumblings produce. It's terrible. Plus I become feisty and can throw temper tantrums like a two year old. I actually keep a snack in my purse or my car almost all the time for this very purpose. I have two snacks in my purse right now, a granola bar and peanut butter crackers.

Moral of the story: even superheros like me and Superman have our Achilles heel. Although mine is more severe since kryptonite isn't even real and extreme heat and hunger are. Superman is such a wuss.

Family Stick Figures

If you know my dad at all, you would know that saying he is a car buff would be an understatement. I grew up with my dad giving my sister and I basic "rules" for our cars. Number one, wash your car regularly. Number two, check your oil often. Number three, NEVER put stickers on your car. I will be honest, rules number one and two were not always on my radar. **Side Note: I hate checking my oil and would only do it when I got the 'Dad-Look.' Now that I live on my own, I don't even know the last time I personally checked my oil. Eek!** However, rule number three has always stuck with me. I would MAYBE put one sticker on my car if I thought it was super cool and worthy enough to break my rule. I feel the same way about tattoos. Needless to say I do not have a sticker on my car nor do I have a tattoo. It might be a fear of commitment of ink . . . that might be another blog topic.

Getting back to the issue at hand, I think in general bumper stickers devalue your car. It's a personal opinion . . . not to be confused with my personal taboo facts; i.e. socks with sandals, ketchup on hotdogs, etc. Lately Troy and I have been noticing the family stick figure stickers, generally on mini vans and the giant SUVs that scream, "I will plow you over if you make me late for my kid's soccer game." I am sure you've seen them. They are ridiculous. As if the bumper sticker that said, "My kid's on the Honor Roll at Orland Jr High School" wasn't geeky enough, the bumper sticker companies decided to up the ante. They have become more versatile now, too. I have seen sea turtles, smilie faces, even flip flops depicting each member of the family. Sometimes you'll even get their surname underneath. Giant white letters, letting you know who you can call by name should you decided to chuck water balloons at their car. "Take this middle, sized girl in the Smith Family!"

You can also get them custom designed so you can share with the perfect strangers you are driving past, some of your favorite hobbies. "Hmm, I see that the oldest Miller boy in that Dodge Caravan is interested in skiing. Wow, I will never get those five seconds back that I wasted thinking about that." Anyone who has a pet will know that you can't leave them out of the family equation, so you can choose your furry or slimy creature who has touched your heart - alive or dead, yes, I'm serious. Anything from the family favorite Fido to ferrets, hedgehogs and goats can be added as a decal. Which brings me to another question, who the heck has a hedgehog for a pet? Or a goat for that matter? So many comments, so little Google gigabytes to collect them.

I decided to look into designing a decal for my family. I made Troy a super hero because it's awesome and I think he would look great in a cape. I made me a hula dancer because I rock at the hula and then of course I had to add Olivia and Molly. I also wanted to include our beloved goldfish, McCain, may he rest in peace due to a stressful evening where my friend, Becca may have been the cause of his demise. The best part was designing the figures and I have to say, that was mildly amusing, but I am certainly not going to cough up the $38.75 plus shipping and handling to become another lame-o on the road with an overpriced sticker.

All this to say, when I see you driving down the road with your stick family plastered to your rear window, you should know I am making fun of you . . . openly. Does this make me a better person? Absolutely not. But it does help to build up my endorphins and is amusing for me. Just know when you order those stick figure stickers, baby on board signs, honor roll awareness stickers, etc, and stick them on your car, you are a heartbeat away from wearing white Keds, a jean skirt and a fanny pack, driving around in a mini van. If that isn't enough to snap you back to reality, heaven help you, it may be too late.

Jumbotrons

This week, Troy and I had the opportunity to go to the Twins/White Sox game at the brand, spanking, new Target Field. This field is pretty much fabulous. Everything is clean and sparkly. If you dropped your soft pretzel on the floor, the five second rule might actually apply here. Anywho, at Target Field there is a humongous jumbotron.

Why are jumbotrons so awesome? I have a few theories. One is that we are nothing more than mutated homosapeion gnats who are drawn to the bright lights of the screen. The only difference is that there are a select few of us who are actually zapped when we touch the screen. This is because security takes us down before we can get our grubby little hands on it and you may or may not get a zap from a tazer. Another theory is the Carly Simon point of view that we are so vain. We like to see our faces magnified times twenty and not only that; we want everyone in the tri-county area to see it too. Regardless of why we love the jumbotrons, the fact of the matter is that we do.

My favorite thing about the jumbotron is that moment when the people on the screen realize that they are being projected across the field. Maybe they are chowing down on nachos, gabbing with friends, or intently watching the game. Suddenly, a fellow fan nudges them and points to the big screen and realization sets in. Their countenance changes completely and now they are waving wildly and flashing a toothy grin to the camera. That is my favorite moment, especially if they are showing the kiddos or grandmas and grandpas. So cute.

Let me tell you something important about the misuse of the jumbotron: engagements. Without fail, every game I go to, some shumk decides to propose to his lady friend via the jumbotron. Idiots. For those of you who have already done this, stop reading this blog. You need to immediately go out and purchase flowers for your wife and then ask for a re-do proposal. If, by chance there are guys out there who are actually thinking about doing this, let me sway your decision. No woman wants to be proposed to at a game. They don’t want to see, “Melanie, will you marry me? Love, Jeff,” on the jumbotron. They want to be somewhere romantic, not surrounded by thirty thousand drunken people. She wants to giggle as you wipe off the little bit of chocolate off her face from the fondue you prepared, not use her sleeve to wipe off the mustard from her hotdog for the whole stadium to see. If you are one of the few men who after reading this, STILL think your girlfriend would love this kind of proposal, you are completely daft, and should know that if your woman would truly love that, she might play for the other team, if you know what I mean.

Troy used to tease me that he would propose on the jumbotron. I flat out told him I would say no. He would laugh and I would tell him exactly what I just told you. No girl wants that. Ironically, we went to a White Sox game on the afternoon that we got engaged and he teased me about proposing at that game, per his usual manor. Thankfully, he did it in a room where we were surrounded by candles and flowers. Instead of nachos and beer, we had fondue and champagne. Now, that is how you woe your lady! Whew! What a guy, huh? Yeah, he’s a keeper.

Back to the jumbotron, there is one romantic item that this giant television has which is pretty awesome . . . the kiss cam! Ever since Troy and I were dating, I have been secretly praying that we would get on the kiss cam. We haven’t. I know that’s hard to believe since there are only tens of thousands of other spectators, but still.

So, there you go folks. A few items of note to take away from this blog:

1. Don’t try to touch the jumbotron. You might get a jolt from the human bug zapper.
2. Love the moment of realization that you are famous for .9 seconds.
3. DO NOT PROPOSE ON THE JUMBOTRON.
4. Always be prepared for the kiss cam.

Over and out.

I ♥ HGTV

Troy is out spending time with the boys tonight, so what am I doing? Watching HGTV obviously! I think I watch HGTV as much as Troy watches ESPN. (Wow, that is a loaded sentence.) I seriously love that channel though. House Hunters, Dear Genevieve, Curb Appeal, Sarah's House, Holmes on Homes, Divine Design, Tough as Nails, Selling New York - I love them all. I even saw an HGTV application that you can put on your iPhone which I want . . . even though I don't have an iPhone. Minor complication.

Because of this television station, I say things like, "That house has good bones," or "The windows on the cabinets really makes the light bounce around the kitchen." This channel even motivates me to destroy things . . . well and then make them look awesome. For example, one day I was minding my own business, trying to do a load of laundry, when I realized the single shelf we had holding the detergent, dryer sheets, box of rags, and other items was not very efficient. If I needed something that was on the back of the shelf, I had to clear the front part of the shelf off to reach it. (I am what you would call 'vertically challenged'.) So, I decided to take the shelf down and buy a shelving unit instead. When I ripped the shelf out, I realized I was going to have to spackle and sand the screw holes that had once held up my dinky shelf, so I figured, I might as well paint the room while I am at it. Then while I was painting, I made a few splatters on the floor - I hate using drop cloths - which then made me decide to rip up the linoleum and lay down some peel and stick tile. Troy came home from work while I was in the middle of my "little" project and wondered what happened to the simple assembly of a shelving unit. The laundry room did turn out awesome and for a week I wanted to sleep in there. I would seriously make pit stops to the laundry room whenever I passed the front foyer. I owe this little project to shows like Dear Genevieve and Design to Sell.

This summer, I decided to revamp my little garden area in our back yard. I finally mustered up the courage after watching many episodes of Curb Appeal:The Block. I raked all the river rocks off the area, dug up our four giant hostas -oh my lanta, that was a job!-, toiled and added more rich soil and then began my replanting process. I cut the hostas up into sixteen parts and planted them along the border of the house. Then I bought a baby blue hydrangea -which I love like a child- and planted it in front of the air conditioner. After I planted my two lily of the valley plants, I finished off the look with ceder chips. Let me tell you, it looks awesome. And it should, I had blisters for a week and my back was sore for two days!

Although these projects make the house look nicer, I am starting to wonder if I watch too much HGTV. Could the old cliché of having too much of a good things be true? I mean, when I am in the HGTV mode, I really just feel like grabbing a sledge hammer and demolishing something only so I can put it back together. If I had the right tools, I probably would be doing more of that. Troy would come home from work and a wall would be missing in the kitchen or I would designed a spa bathroom upstairs. This is a great time to give a huge shout out to our friend, Craig "Mophats" Berg, who graciously loans me his tools for my projects. I have borrowed so many tools from Mophats, you would think he was a Rent-a-Center. I am surprised he doesn't have me put a down payment down when I come over. Which reminds me, I am making you some cookies, Fo, as a thank you.

One night, Troy and I were in our upstairs bathroom and he asked me if I thought we should rip up the linoleum in our upstairs bathroom and put down tile . . . I may or may not have drooled at the thought of picking out tile. The next day I had to go to Home Depot (to get supplies for another project) and I decided to browse the tile selection. All of a sudden I had a vision of a spa tub, complete with jets, subway tile running along the walls and glass back splashes . . . then I ran for my car. The job that my brain conjured up was much too big for me, but it was fun to think about. Maybe someday when we live in our forever house we can do something like that.

All this demo and reno talk makes me want to paint or stain something. I have seriously thought about painting the trim in our house white (which would make my dad freak out) just so I could put up crown molding. Man, I love that stuff. I might need to cut myself off to house projects cold turkey . . . or be a designer in my next life so that I can have people pay me to buy their stuff and then boss around my contractor to do the heavy lifting.

Air Conditioning Snob

I just came in from organizing the garage. We are going on vacation and I wanted to get everything in order that we would need. (See Neat Freak.) Anywho, saying I have healthy sweat glands would be an understatement as I am currently rocking the 'swoobs' (sweaty + boobs = swoobs), although I suppose it doesn't help that I am wearing a sports bra which just pushes the girls together. All this to say . . . I love air conditioning.

From the title of this blog, I am sure you can gather that I am an air conditioning snob. When I came in from the garage, and the air conditioning gave me a big giant hug, it was amazing. It was like the air conditioning said, 'Let me cool you and your swoobs.' And you know what, it did.

Our friend Kasey lives in Washington, D.C. (which is super hot and dare I say, balmy, in the summer). He told Troy that his power went out for a couple of days, which meant that his house was now hotter than Hades without the power running the A/C. I was thinking about what I would do if our power went out. I would definitely get a hotel room. Thankfully, Troy is also an air conditioning snob, so I am pretty sure that it wouldn't take too much convincing on my part to hit up a HoJo. If that didn't work, we would probably just spend all day at our local Barnes and Noble where the temperature is always in the lovely, low seventies.

I guess should also mention, that I am a bit of a heat snob also. Troy calls it the "Kohler Cold" because my dad is the same way too. It almost seems like if the temperature goes over 78 degrees, we are sweltering and if it lower than 70, we are freezing. Of course it doesn't help that the upstairs of our house doesn't seem to benefit from our central heating/air system. In the summer, it is super hot and in the winter, super cold. Sometimes, I like to tamper with the thermostat to make the house more comfortable . . . for me . . . but Troy usually finds out and corrects it. It is actually kinda a fun game sometimes.

While we are on the topic of temperatures . . . can I just take a minute and vent about something? I hate it when I am all sweaty and then I go take a shower. It feels great while I am in there and then I have to get dressed or dry my hair (which doesn't happen very often in the summer) and I am instantly sweaty again. I hate that. Honestly, I am dreading that since I got myself all nasty in the garage and I am going to go shower after posting this blog. I am sure that this scenario will be played out. I have even tried showering with cold water . . . my sweat glands laugh at my fundamental thinking.

So, this is a shout out to air conditioning. I love you. And if you ceased to exist, I would probably spend all my time in the closest body of water to stay cool. This would ultimately force my body to evolve into a fish-like creature and then we would have a Little Mermaid situation on our hands. Therefore, thanks to air conditioning, Troy doesn't have to fight Ursula the Octopus on the open sea and I get to keep my voice. Thank goodness for air conditioning.

Awesome Things Thought by Pam

One of my favorite blogs to follow is called 1000 Awesome Things. My friend, Kelsey introduced it to me. Every day, it lists something new that is, well . . . awesome. They can range from being the only person on the beach, to picking things up with your feet. It is definitely right up my alley and almost every time I read it, I think to myself, 'Yeah, that really is awesome!' I thought I would piggy back off of that blog and jot down a few things that are worthy enough to be Awesome Things Thought by Pam. I feel like I should tell you too that I have really put some good thought in this blog, as I have added to it over several days to make sure I have included really awesome stuff. If that doesn't scream commitment to my ten fans, I don't know what does.

1. Rain and Overpasses. I love it when you are driving in the middle of a rainstorm and the windshield wipers are cruising back and forth in their rhythmic dance. You start to wonder how hard the rain really is coming down because you are driving fast. Then you get to an overpass and for three glorious seconds everything is calm and quiet. Your windshield wipers are finally able to catch up with their work. You see how hard those droplets are flinging themselves toward the ground while you are in the brief safety of the overpass. Things move in slow motion. And then you drive through your cover back into the storm and the noise. I love those three seconds of stillness.

2. Fresh Cut Flowers. Most men think these are a big, fat waste of money . . . men like my husband. And I can see his point. They live for a short amount of time and then you have to throw them away. But most women see them as a chivalrous gesture that means that at one point during your man's day, you were on his mind and so much so that he thought to buy something for you that was completely for your enjoyment only. When Troy buys me flowers, I really make the most of it. I carry that vase into whichever room I'm in. Most of the day, they live on our dining room table because that is where the majority of the action is. But I have brought them into the kitchen on occasion to look at them while I'm cooking and also carried them into our spare bedroom if I am reading. Then, every night, I clutch that vase and trod upstairs to our room where they spend the night on our nightstand. I just think they are so cheerful.

3. Hugs. This one might surprise some of you who know me well because I am not a touchy-feely person . . . well, just not with anyone. I am a choosy-touchy-feely person. My friends in high school would tease me about my "side hugs," (where I would only extend out one arm and only our hips would touch) and they would sometimes demand a "full hug." But I can't deny that sometimes, all you need is a good hug from someone you care about. Troy knows this is therapeutic for me and now knows the routine, but when we were first married, I would tell him I needed a hug and he would hold me for a normal amount of time and start to pull away. Sometimes you need to biggie-size that hug, and I would tell him that I needed more time. Now, he waits for me to get my hug-fix. Sometimes you need a mom hug. Or a friend hug. Or a cat hug. Sometimes I feel like a lame-o asking for hugs, but I've never been rejected so far. Probably because I have only asked a select few of you. No offense to those who have not been asked. Maybe your turn is soon. Keep your fingers crossed!

4. Bonus Soups or Salads. Isn't it the best when you go to a restaurant, order your meal and find out via the menu or your server that your meal includes a soup or salad? It is like free food, even though I am sure that iceberg lettuce is included in the price. I love that! Maybe that is one of the reasons why I love Olive Garden so much. Umm, yes, I'll choose the soup, thank you - zuppa tuscana please - and keep those bread sticks coming! Now, this could mean that I don't go to "fancy" restaurants enough or I am just easily amused and judging by this blog and the fact that I know myself, I think it's the later.

5. Hotel Rooms and Husbands. I remember on our wedding night when Troy and I got to our hotel and were checking in. I am embarrassed to say that I purposely put my hands on the counter top so that the woman would know (if she were to see my ring) that we were married, so it was totally okay for her to allow these two, young wipper-snappers to co-habit in a hotel room. I am sure she appreciated my thoughtfulness to passively inform her because I bet my giant, white, wedding dress and Troy's crisp tuxedo didn't tip her off at all. Now, when we stay in hotels, sans wedding attire, I always feel little giddy and end up saying to Troy, "I'm in a hotel room with a boy!" I hope that never gets old.

6. New Shampoo. It doesn't matter what the shampoo promises you on its bottle. It doesn't matter if you bought it on sale, with a coupon, or on a whim. New shampoo is awesome and always the highlight of my next shower session. I am always convinced that this new addition to my grooming tactics makes my hair look shinier, straighter, curlier, or what-have-you. Plus, it has a different scent than your old shampoo, so when you flip your hair or turn your head quickly, you get a whiff and for a split second you think someone is following you too closely. Then you realize it's your new shampoo and you continue to strut your stuff.

7. Clapping in Unison. My sister-in-law, Tricia, was in a community theater play this summer. (She was captivating the role as Mrs. Bucket in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.) After the show, the orchestra was playing the upbeat theme song while the actors were taking their bows. The audience was clapping randomly - until suddenly, the audience started clapping in unison with the beat of the music. It was awesome! It was almost like my hands found the rhythm before my head realized it. It felt like there was a sort of magic that fell over the whole audience and I thought to myself, I love this.

8. Closet 'NSYNC fans and Dances. Maybe you hate pop music. Maybe you think that Brittney, Jessica and Christina are really just blond vacuums whose voices are designed by a computer. Whatever your reason for hating the pop music scene, I have your number. You are the same people who run out to the dance floor when 'Bye, Bye, Bye' comes pumping through the speakers at the dance/wedding/party you're attending. Let's face it, everyone is a closet pop music fan, and it is almost the great music equalizer because it seems as though everybody knows the words and music of these teeny bopper idols. Any apprehensions are melted away and everyone dances and sings along. I love that. Of course tomorrow, the lines in the sand are drawn again, but for now, 'Oops! I Did it Again' and yes, I know the dance.

9. Singing when you don't know the words. I love it when I am in the car with someone and a song comes on that almost anyone who doesn't live in a cave would recognize, but there are some parts where you don't know all the words. You obviously still want to sing, but your voice gets a bit softer and you try to fake out some muffled syllables in hopes of fooling your friends, only to find out that they are doing the same thing!! A great example would be Benny and the Jets by Elton John. I don't think I know anyone who knows all the words. It usually goes something like "She's got electric boobs, a mow-hair zeus, you know I read it in a mag-ah-zee-eennn, oh, oh . . . ." And then everyone jumps in, "B-B-B-Benny and the Jetsssssss." I love that.

10. Back Scratches and Beauty Shops. Don't you love that feeling when someone starts to scratch your back? Your eye lids become heavy and the conversation gets hazy . . . you almost feel like you are going to melt. Or how about when someone plays with your hair? Oh my gosh, it's like the same feeling as getting your back scratched, but I swear, I get goosebumps on my head. I remember in my first grade class, the girls always played with each others hair and my teacher would tell us to 'stop with the beauty shop.' When I watch my students now, they still play with each others hair . . . and when I am lucky, sometimes mine! I have to say, it is EXTREMELY hard to tell the girls playing with my hair to get back to their school work. I usually let them play for a little bit . . . I mean, all work and no play, right?


So, there you go folks. Ten things that I think are awesome and I bet you will resonate with at least a couple of them. If you think of another awesome thing that you think people might not have pondered about, comment on this blog. When I get enough, I will post another blog about more awesome things with credit to you on the awesome thing you shared.

Body Slamming Mark Wahlberg

Last night, my friend, Chipper and I went to get Wendy's and while we were waiting in the drive through for our order, we were talking about phrases that are really funny, and one that made it high on the list was "body slam." Here are a few examples of this phrase being used in a sentence:

*If you take that last french fry, I will body slam you.
*I am really sore today because I took the last french fry and then got body slammed.
*Chuck Norris can body slam you with his gaze.

Now that you understand more of the phrase, "body slam" in a contextual setting, you will see why this is so darn funny. Anywho, we were laughing pretty hard about it, but then we moved on . . . or so I thought.

Last night, I had dream that Mark Wahlberg was sassing me off. In my usual Pam Fashion, I was sassing him back, but in a sarcastic way. (I mean you have to be sarcastic. You can't be taking smack to him for real. Who really wants to get Mark Wahlberg P.O.ed? Instant Death Sentence.) Marky-Mark was having none of my sarcastic undertones, or overtones for that matter so things started to heat up. Finally, I told him that if he kept it up, I was going to body slam him. Obviously, my subconscious is an idiot. I don't know how it thought that I could take down a 200 pound muscle man, but I guess it's nice to know that my subconscious has a lot of faith in my scrapping abilities.

Well, obviously Mark couldn't pass up a fight, that would make him look yellow-bellied or however the kids call it these days, so he challenged me to an arm wrestling match. (Probably because he didn't want to hurt me that badly. I do bruise like a peach.) Now, I may have written about being a gym rat, but let's be honest, not many women have super strong upper bodies, unless you are Chyna, which I am not. Consequently, this is the part of the dream where I start to panic. I of course tell him that I would love to destroy him in an arm wresting match, but then proceed to think of all the reasons why I just can't do it at that moment. Finally, I realize, I have run out of options and it is time to buck up and face the music. I slowly shuffle over to the table where Mark has already gotten himself into position. His arm muscles are rippling, like they are laughing at my little biceps and triceps.

I grasp his hand and exert my force and . . . nothing happens. Marky-Mark's arm doesn't move a millimeter. Meanwhile, I have sweat beads collecting on my forehead that are threatening to spill onto our official arm match table. I woke up before Mr. Wahlberg annihilated me in our arm wresting match. Probably for the better. I guess my subconscious thinks I am wimpy after all and wanted to spare me the humiliation.

Moral of the story: just because the phrase body slam is awesome, be careful who you threaten. The phrase has extreme power and unleashing it on Mark Wahlberg is not smart. Pick the little wimpy guy on the bus instead. Your chances of succeeding in an actual body slam are greatly improved.