Simple Joys

With the initial plan of venturing to Barnes & Noble last Friday afternoon, Lauren, Ricky and I somehow found ourselves sifting through the endless amounts of inventory at Toy Joy on the corner of Guadalupe and 29th. I guess I've never given the store a chance due to its creepy, carnival-like appearance and random location but I really have to express my utter satisfaction and well, joy while shopping.

It was a serious time travel back to the best days of our lives... when yo-yo'ing was a sport and Glow in the Dark stars were practically a bedroom necessity. Unfortunately, common sense kicked in as I made it closer to the register and put back the several items I was planning on splurging on. Lauren, on the other hand, found the perfect companion to her birthday card for Katie in two miniature, 25 cent plastic babies.

I knew Katie would obviously be pleased with the obscurity of the gift but I wasn't sure exactly what purpose they would serve. With some serious contemplation and trial testing while heating up the glue gun, our two new friends found their way in to our kitchen where Lauren states "washing the dishes will now always be exciting." Name suggestions now being accepted.

I heart Costco.

Recently, while doing some Costco shopping/food sampling with the roommates, I came across this puzzling, yet inconspicuous sight. We were cruising the most sample-saturated area of the store (naturally), when she rolled on up with her beef jerky, toilet paper, and....well, extra large lava lamp. 

Now I understand normal sized lava lamps...trust me, we Johnson girls had our fair share of groovy lamps and blow-up plastic furniture as pre-teens...but really, who needs one this large? Obviously shopping at Costco has gotten to this woman's head. Everything big and everything bulk!  

My real question here though is, was this an unplanned purchase? I'd say about 85% of the items my dad [and Katie] come home with after shopping at Costco are impulsive buys. Power washers, food sealing machines, Tommy Bahama picnic sets, you name it. The wide range in products offered makes it the greatest place on earth.

Enjoy your oversized lamp you loyal Costco member, I'm sure we'll see you around.

Dog Shoes.

Received this e-mail from none other than Katherine Regina Kaufman herself. 

My dear father Craigo and I were grazing the Farmers Market this morning when a herd of 4 shoe wearing poodles strolled by. The obscure sight obviously made me think of you two. 

Enviado desde mi iPhone

Katie

I would say pet apparel should go on the Loathe List..but these little poodle sneakers are toooo good to dislike.

Finally, Vitamin D in a bed!

After an influx of email forwards over the past few days, I felt compelled to blog on a somewhat timely topic, given the time of year: Tanning. If wasn't already apparent that laying in a blinding, UV bulb-surrounded bed was potentially hazardous, then recent findings may surprise you.

According to the first email I received, the International Agency for Research on Cancer announced Wednesday that it had elevated sunbeds to its highest cancer risk category. The risk of melanoma -- the most lethal form of skin cancer -- increases by 75 percent when use of tanning devices starts before the age of 30.

Ok, so I may be sounding a bit like your mother … and before you accuse me of complete hypocrisy, I’ll be the first to admit I have surrendered to the horror of being pale during the wintertime by partaking in this absurdly stupid practice. My issue is more so with the second email that I received, from a local tanning salon in Austin in response to articles like the one above.

"Saying that UV exposure is harmful and should be avoided is as wrong as saying that water causes drowning, and therefore we should avoid water... Further, it is clearer now more than ever that humans NEED regular UV exposure as the only true natural way to make vitamin D. It is called 'The Sunshine Vitamin' for a reason: You produce more vitamin D by getting a tan than you would from drinking 100 glasses of whole milk."

Maybe it's something about the comparison of sunlight to milk that kind of throws me off, but for a leading cause of cancer, the new promotion of "Vitamin D" seems about as believable as the model above.

Farewell to Conformity

As I walked by the trash chute at my apartment today, I found a pleasant surprise lingering by the door. It appears that an unidentified college student (likely male) is taking his first daring step into manhood. I can imagine that letting go of this enchanting, rare photo was a tough moment for him, so I just wanted to offer some public solace. Don’t worry--you can still be a young, rebellious college partier without posters of Animal House and Scarface pinned up on your walls. Good luck out there…I believe in you.

Is this your bag sir?

I have a major love/hate relationship with airport baggage claims. On one side, it involves a lot of waiting around and awkward conversation with fellow passengers. “Is this where our bags are coming out?” But on the flip side, you are sure to see some chaotic and frantic movement between family members and strangers alike. Lucky for my sister and I, we had a fantastic experience at the Kauai baggage claim. Blame it on the bottle of champagne we polished off on our 4 hour flight, but the people-watching at this airport was particularly amazing. After coming to find that Dad had upgraded our Monte Carlo rental car to a H3 Hummer, we were feeling like a cool million and ready to take on another Johnson family vacation.

Now I don’t know what it is about Hawaii, but it’s a place that really seems to attract the older couples that DEFINE the term ‘tourists’. You know them…you know them well. Fanny packs, cameras around the neck, noticeably white walking shoes (style usually taking a backseat to comfort in these cases), khakis, safari hats…the whole package.

Anyways, I’ll let the picture do the talking here, but let’s just say we got the pleasure of seeing this doozy of a couple attempt to get their suitcases off the carousel. As you can see, the man was watching the bags come out LIKE A HAWK...mouth open, eyes fixated, He WAS NOT going to miss his bag. My sister can vouch... as soon at that shining beauty came his way, all hell broke loose. After a failed attempt at catching it, the surrounding people took on the necessary hospitable duties, and were practically in a dog pile to help this kind man get his very heavy luggage off the conveyor belt. It all ended after a proactive father with a small child on his shoulders pulled the bag off. I’m guessing one too many bucket hats packed in there…

Now I could go on about airports for days, but I’ll just leave you with a picture of Cristina, Katie and I dressed up as tacky tourists for a fratty Around the World party freshman year. Wearing oversized button-ups and running shoes to a party filled with sexy Indians and Eskimos really put us in that hot, slutty freshman category, as you probably all know. Cheers to 3 years down.

Skinny jeans. Really skinny jeans.

There is not much commentary that needs to accompany this picture I managed to snap in Hollywood other than a. These are unquestionably the skinniest legs on a man I have ever seen and b. If you did in fact have legs of such a shockingly small circumference, why would you choose black (a naturally slimming color) skinny jeans?

Now that I'm on the topic of jeans, I need to express a little of the culture shock I have experienced since living in LA this summer. I have to say that though it was not easy, I had just begun to adjust to the commonality of boys in Wranglers (see photo below) since my move to Austin, Texas in 2006. This alone probably deserves its own blog post, but I'll save that for a rainy day. Very quickly, I want to pose the question of how a place roughly 1,300 miles from another can yield such a different style of pant?

Lastly, being a frequenter of this style of jean myself, I was a bit startled a few weeks back when discovering that a condition known as "tingling thigh syndrome" exists. CNN claims this nerve condition can happen when constant pressure — in this case, from the skin-tight denim — cuts off the lateral femoral cutaneous nerve, causing a numb, tingling or burning sensation along the thigh. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/30870617/

Maybe Wranglers aren't so bad after all...

*Side-note- This photo was taken the morning after one of my roommates sleepovers sophomore year. How the jeans resulted in this position is an unsolved mystery,

Slow it down buddy!

Eating contests, in general, tend to really freak me out. Perhaps it was the milk chugging contest on the Real World Road Rules Challenge I saw as a preteen that really turned me away from such activities. The thought of ingesting 25 hotdogs to prove personal worth is a little far-fetched and puzzling, but maybe that's just me.  The world record to date is 59 franks in 12 minutes, which is held by Joey Chestnutt of San Jose. This astounding feat was accomplished at the Southwest Regional Hot Dog Eating Championship in 2007. Who knew that competitive eating contests had such esteemed titles? Southwest Regional? Does this mean only residents of the southwest region can participate? I never knew of such exclusivity.

Another question, at what point do you decide that you will begin training to win hot dog eating contests? Is it like running a marathon? Slowly working up from 20 to 30 to 40 dogs as the big day nears?  I guarantee Joey is an all-star at playing Chubby Bunny, [which is an event that will most definitely be included in me and my roommates' summer field day games.]

Side note: If you're in Austin this summer..get excited. We're talking potato sack races, egg on a spoon,and 3-legged races. With booze. 

Truth Behind the Mask

There is probably a general consensus among most of us about clowns, but after seeing one in broad daylight at a local Starbucks, I wanted to devote some time taking a closer look in to a very confusing profession. Last Saturday morning, I was peacefully sipping on a skinny vanilla latte when in he walked. Painted face, red nose, polka-dotted pants, the whole enchilada. Granted, an odd feeling usually accompanies seeing people in costume out of their usual work-environment (ie: Mall Santa in grocery store), but there was something especially creepy about this sighting. I find myself struggling to pinpoint where such discomfort comes from. What is it about these seemingly cheerful characters that gives us goose bumps? The best conclusion I have reached is somewhere between the domestic animal abuse in Airbud and the fact that no one REALLY knows who’s under that mask…

Side note on photo: Regretfully, at age 10, I agreed to be transformed in to a clown in front of my 5th grade class. My second grade teacher, aka Giggles, occasionally posed as one at various school events and birthday parties and chose me as her subject. Weird.

Wishing you a merry-achi May 5th.

In light of Cinco de Mayo tomorrow, I would just like to express my love for Mariachi bands. Really though, who doesn't love a flock of jolly spaniards?...A united band of middle-aged men wearing oversized matching bow ties? Forget Danity Kane..this is what I like to call showstoppin.

Cheers to an underrated holiday! 

Rest Easy

Whenever Cristina and I are on our flights back to San Diego, one of our favorite activities is looking through the infamous SkyMall magazine. For those of you unfamiliar with this publication, it is a catalog that consists of overpriced and useless items that you have thoughts of really wanting, but never actually buy. We're talking everything from time-sensitive cat feeders to lawn gnomes and one piece footed pajamas [for adults] . I'm almost positive SkyMall featured the Snuggie before making its big debut in the infomercial world. 

Anyways, I came across one of my all-time favorites the other week, which is definitely blog-worthy... I'd like to introduce to you the SkyRest.

Ok so, first I'd like to applaud the SkyRest makers for excellent ad placement. Talk about relevant receptivity! But really, has anyone ever seen someone with this on a plane? I can only imagine the kind of person who would purchase this. 

After going through the hassles of long security lines and an unfriendly welcome by bitter stewardesses, you sit down next to the nice looking man wearing a cheesy hawaiian button-up. As he begins the necessary airplane small talk, ("Why are you headed to Philly?") he pulls out a folded up SkyRest...and as you reply, "Well, I'm actually interviewing for a job at..." he begins blowing up his inflatable wedge-shaped pillow, immediately destroying any chance of normal conversation . 

I imagine that it is similar to blowing up a pool raft, which makes most people red in the face and out of breath. Whoever actually indulges in the SkyRest, first off, has no concern for personal space, and secondly, has really high confidence and needs a serious reality check. Yikes. 

Here comes the bride... unfortunately

Just wanted to provide some quick, visual evidence to how horrific bachelorette parties are (see loathe list item #36). Coincidentally, this was the second one I saw that night though I was uncomfortable taking a picture with the bride-to-be holding a large, blow-up, naked man doll. Honestly, who wants to spend their last official outing as a single woman wearing a pink wig?

Strange Things Revisited

If any of you have been following my "Strange Things" album on Facebook (which you should), then you have probably seen this picture already. I was debating reposting it here, but realized that it epitomizes the exact obscurity that Lauren and I seek for our blog. Let me preface this photo by saying it is 100% real. This picture was in all seriousness taken in 1994 as my first grade, end of the year tap-dance class picture. I believe we were in the midst of intense preparation for our recital performance to "Rockin' Robin," which was of course, one of the most highly anticipated days of the year for most of us. Anyways, if you hadn't guessed already, I'm in the top row to the left of the girl with the blue scrunchi. No one else is too important to note in the picture other than the 6 ft. tall black chick to my left. It's strange to me because to be honest, I can't remember ever thinking it was unusual that a girl twice my age was in the beginning tap dancing class among 8 other 6-year-olds. Furthermore, what was her mother thinking when she opted to force her noticeably over-aged daughter to be sized for a blue polka-dotted costume and bow-tied tap shoes?

Bless you... or... not?

I was put in a situation the other day which although I have experienced a number of times, still found myself wondering how to react. It's such a simple, everyday habit: Sneezing. Im sure you've probably been in the same boat a time or two. Someone near you sneezes. Naturally, you offer up some sort of response (hopefully not "Gazoontite" because that word is teetering on making my loathe list.) Now in some cases, if your lucky, thats the end of the story. My question is this: What are you supposed to do if that person continues to sneeze? It's only minimally awkward if you have to repeat yourself once, but you know there's been instances where the frenzy continues on for several more. Not only do you feel uncomfortable for making the decision to continue on for four "bless you's," but the other person is also frantically trying to stop in embarrassment for forcing you to do so. Surely mankind has experienced this enough to have come up with some relatively uncomplicated answer. Do you respond once? Do you stop after 3? Do you nervously laugh after realizing you have indeed gone too far? Or do you just ignore the germ-spreading convulsive expulsion altogether? Life sure is complicated... 

The Middle Finger

The other day I was "channel surfing" and stumbled across a trashy TV talk show... In hindsight, I have NO idea which one it was, but an important discovery was made while watching. 

I was in the midst of getting ready when I heard the start of an outrageous TV verbal fight, which as we all know consists of half shouted words, unnecessary anger, and obnoxious beeps. When I peered at the screen, an overweight red-faced man was giving the ol 'one finger salute'  to the audience.. It was in that moment when I began wondering, why does TV deem it necessary to blur out the middle finger? I mean, thank god that they do...that hovering blur over the entire hand definitely excuses the 'f**k off' connotation it was supposed to give off.  

At least with the beeping out of bad words, its all so loud and convoluted that we have no f**king idea what they're trying to say.

Which brings me to my next point....those BAD words I just 'starred' out...why? Why is it necessary that we use mini stars? Is it more polite?  Now I'm not going to go DESTROYING Cristina and I's reputation in the blogosphere by dropping the F bomb, but it really is confusing. Almost as questionable as people who put stuffed animals in their back car windows...

Oh, you know them well... the poor Beanie Babies and Teddy's faded from years of sitting in the sun. Its like a small museum exhibit for people walking by...Pretty considerate gesture if you ask me.  I think I will die and go to heaven the day I see backseat Beanies still preserved in crystal display cases...those were the absolute best! People were so eager to show off their obsession with TY... Bear after bear sitting on the top shelf in personal plastic cases. Amazing. I'm still waiting for Beanie Babies to be worth the millions that the TY corporation ever-so-kindly forecasted to our parents......Personally, Twig the Giraffe was my fave.

I'm about to go too far....signing out! 

Curiously Uncomfortable

After stumbling upon this photo the other day, I realized how we often feel compelled to forward seemingly adorable animal pictures to other pet lovers. Truthfully, I don't find anything endearing about a giraffe licking a squirrel. 

Unnecessary Things.

Ok, so I think it is finally time for me to open up about a family that I nanny for here in Austin. It's difficult for me to speak about them on a positive note, seeing as last time I babysat I spent my saturday night being drop-kicked by Satan--otherwise known as Dillan. Quick summary of Dil--He is 7 years old and in the midst of repeating Kindergarten. He cries. A lot. And his nails are like teeny switchblades that he tactfully whips out with any mention of the word 'bedtime'. He's the child you see in the grocery store, and say to yourself--"Wow, I never want to have kids."

But back to my Saturday night... I was going to the bathroom for probably about the 5th time that evening--a similar hobby we all passionately pursued during 9th grade history class. Let's just say I wasn't tooo eager to get back to hearing a 6th grade boy talk about his day-long Latin competition. 

Now, as I was walking out of the bathroom, I

stopped dead in my tracks, only to find THE 

thinnest door I had ever seen. I was taken aback, and strangely my first reaction was to snap a picture of it on my phone and send it to Ali. (She is well informed about this mind-boggling family) I was so curious. I mean this door isn't even wide enough for a small satanic child to hide in. Anyways, I opened it to find approximately 3 outdated coats hanging. Excuse me, what?! I'd like to contact the architect here and discuss the planning and blueprint of this strange house. "Now this small space here will be for each family member's favorite coat."  Question mark.

Unnecessary things in this world never seize to baffle me, and this small sorry-excuse-for-a-closet only adds to my confusion and misunderstanding. 

Goood night.

 

Honk if you like girls in spandex...

As Lauren and I were explaining our history to someone today (the periodic, "How did you two meet anyways?") I realized that this photo is the closest documentation I have of our friendship commencement... a mere eight years and two sets of braces ago. 

Undeniably photographed in the early stages of middle school at a club volleyball tournament, Lauren and I are both sporting what seemed to be acceptable trends at the time. Perhaps you are having a difficult time spotting the two of us. If my obnoxiously long and pale legs don't give it away, I'm the one on the far left, two in from the girl wearing embroidered jean capris. I'm fairly confident that I am sporting some brand of knock-off Rocket Dogs and a pair of sunglasses to keep my poofy, air-dryed hair off of my face. Lauren is one in from the girl wearing long overalls with a nude-colored Brass Plum lycra tank. Hair parted down the middle, her red sweatshirt is covering what I believe were white denim shorts. 

Luckily, our random, rekindled friendship (via Myspace) 6 years later was a little more successful than our volleyball careers...  

Things that will forever confuse me..

1. Snakes on a Plane

2. America's obsession with crocs

3. William Hung

4. Pageant mothers

5. Amy Winehouse and her beehive

6. Eiffel 65's song--Blue

7. Long John Silvers

8. The Honda Element

9. Lava lamps

10. Flavor savers, soul patches and mini goatees

11. Unicyclists at Town Lake

12. Speaking of Town Lake--the day Cristina and I saw a couple pushing a small goat in a stroller. Perplexing, really.

13. Whoopi Goldberg (Although I'm a huge fan of the Sister Act soundtrack)

14. Ear plugs

16. Boba smoothies

17. Guys that drive VW bugs

18. Paul Giamatti

I'd like to clear up any confusion by saying that the aforementioned listed items are not things I hate...Do not mistake them with the loathe list (i.e. I loathe when girls refers to themselves as guy's girls, but I don't loathe Whoopi G. She just is  [and always will be] a confusing individual.) See the difference? I might even go as far to say that these are fascinations...

and with that being said, I'd like to end with an endearing photo of Deloris Van Cartier otherwise known as Sister Mary Clarence..the sassy black nun we all know and love..

Loathe List

It's that feeling you get when you're casually watching The Food Network and realize how much the word "moist" bothers you. Or when you're dining at a restaurant and suddenly get this overwhelming hatred for the unknown couple next to you who has chosen to sit on the same side of the table. Well, this is what me and Lauren like to call the "loathe list." Anyone who knows me knows I have an ongoing list that I keep on my computer and add to when I feel necessary, with frequent contributions from Lauren. It's progressed quite a bit from it's original birth place on the back of our door at the Castilian, but here it is... Feel free to contribute though know that list-worthy items hold high expectations...

1. People who preserve already opened soda cans in the refrigerator

2. Referring to getting together as "playing" 

3. Croc-wearing families 

4. Descriptive adjectives for recipes and/or food dishes 

5. Sexual jokes that end in, "That's what she said..."

6. Leaving remaines on a utensil after asking for a bite

Ex: Ice cream left on a spoon 

7. Saving alcohol bottles as trophies 

8. Texting in response to missed phone calls 

9. Parking lots of overcrowded garages 

10. Personalized license plates 

11. Excessive scenic pictures from studying abroad and/or vacations 

12. Mass texting on holidays 

13. Drinking leftover milk from a cereal bowl 

14. Girls who carry mini purses alongside backpacks to class 

15. Bumper stickers... all of them really 

16. Overuse of the word "organic" or "green" 

17. Phone calls from concerts... No, we cannot identify that song. 

18. Bikers who ride alongside cars in the street 

19. Sympathy plea emails for class notes 

20. Girls who refer to themselves as "guys' girls" 

21. Hamburgers at Mexican restaurants 

22. Nose blowing in large lecture halls 

23. Softball chants or any large gatherings of middle-school sports teams 

24. Awkward backpack hugs 

25. Baby voices to boyfriends 

26. Joes Crab Shack shirts 

27. Santa hats and other tacky holiday apparel 

28. Whistling in public places 

29. People that interchange the first letters of inappropriate phrases 

Ex: Tuck Fexas 

30. Excessive e-mail fowards 

31. People who crowd coffee counters 

32. Bowl scrapers 

33. Girls who work out with their hair down 

34. Toe socks 

35. Wide right turners 

36. Tacky bachelorette parties 

37. The name Ruthy 

38. Lengthy dream recaps

39. Octo-mom. She's just weird. And shouldn't be famous for her strange reproductive tendencies

40. Mini-laptops

41. Smart cars. There's nothing smart about getting in an accident in a toddler-sized car.

42. Airport employees on power trips.

43. Ice-cream scoopers used to serve foods in mass quantity (i.e: mashed potatoes)

44. People who refer to cars as their "baby."

45. Photographers who ask for a "funny" or "goofy" pose in group pictures.

Welcome to Cristina and Lauren's Blog!

Ok, soo we are new to this, but it definitely was time for the two of us to start publicly voicing opinions on our obscure daily thoughts. Everything is fair game in our book... Cheesewagons, Subway employees, Reverend Camden, Dugongs, Hatchbacks... there really are no limits. The Deeds and Lucas rhode (explanation later) has been long... and there is no end in sight. From the days of sexual predator volleyball coaches and striped knee length socks, to our freshmen adventures at, dare we say it, The Castilian (yes, that is the dormitory that sits above the modest Kismet Cafe)... it sure has been quite a ride! Please enjoy.