It's Orefro, The Fro Sportin' Oreo

I forgot my password to an online account recently and in the process of resetting it, I had to type in the letters I saw in a box. Never in my life have those letters spelled anything (that would defeat a lot of security purposes if they did). This occasion, however, provided at least enough letters and vowels in the correct order to name my first Oreo offspring: Orefro.

Meet Orefro. He's cool. He's tasty. He's an Oreo. He's got a fro.

You're a Mean One, Mia Grinch!

So You Think You Can Dance is pretty much one of the coolest and completely the gayest reality show on TV. But I love it...almost as much as I love Survivor.

The kids are good dancers, avid learners and they are really fun to watch. I actually find myself liking the performances that I didn't think I liked during the rehearsal.

Anybody who has seen this show for more than one season probably has pretty strong feelings about Mia Michaels, the "organic" guru of contemporary rug cutting. As cuddly as a cactus and as charming as an eel, Mia Michaels looks exactly like the Grinch who freaking stole Christmas! It's the weirdest thing--I'm not kidding you.

Not only is the resemblance totally uncanny but she is almost as nice as the Grinch. Maybe her dance shoes are to tight or her lesbian-quaffed mullet isn't screwed on just right. Whatever it is, at the end of each show, she manages to overcome her grinchy self and they say that her moldy heart grows three sizes each day. She cries and gives all the little dancers down in Whoville props for growing and being "human" yet "bird-like" enough to be part of "this competition."

One day when I have the time, I will Photoshop into existence the love-children of Mia and the Grinch, but for right now, I wouldn't touch her with a...thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole.

"That's a Big Bag of Jolly Ranchers"

I have a Mar-trend, meaning something that I like to do, that I don't think a lot of other people do; sort of specific to my life's routine. I like to suck on Jolly Ranchers (JRs) after lunch and sometimes around 3:00 as the afternoon hunger begins to settle in. I sort of stumbled upon this Mar-trend as a way to curb hunger, get a sweet fix, and pick myself up when energy gets low.

Now a serving size of JRs is 3 pieces for 70 calories. Not bad in the least. I usually have a serving twice a day and I don't feel at all that my calorie count is compromised by this 140 calories of hunger-curbing, spirit-lifting goodness. (I really do comsume less of other foods by doing this so as Stephen R. Covey would so daftly put it, "It's a Win-Win.") I don't blow through the package too quickly either.

Yesterday, during my lunch break, I stopped at Walmart for the purpose of picking up more JRs. Ok, I didn't stop at Walmart, I acutally left work and drove there simply to buy JRs. (Don't fault me--I know somebody who drove from Sandy to Alpine just to buy a case of cherry flavored candy canes at Christmas time.)

While picking up the bag I usually buy (1/2 lb.) I noticed a 3.75 lb. bag of JR goodness. I had to look around and ensure that...no...I definitely wasn't at Costco. (For info on how to educatedly distinguish between Costco and Walmart, please write me personally.) So I decided I would save myself several trips to the Walmart nearest my office in the future by purchasing said 3.75 lb. bag and stowing it away in my desk drawer.

As I am writing this post, I am searching for a picture of this Costco-esque bag and find that apparently one can only purchase it on eBay...for $10.55...WHAT?! And $5.75 shipping and handling?! I paid $6 and some change including tax and I didn't have to sign for the delivery. But this post is not about the price--although I must say that eBay price is outrageous.

It is about the girl at the checkout counter who made me feel like a hippo for buying a 3.75 lb. bag of JR. I put it on the counter (my single purchase) and she exclaims, as if warning the world that I might eat the whole bag and stomp around gobbling up entire Walmart stores, "That is a BIG bag of Jolly Ranchers."

Nevermind the fact that I don't snack on anything else between meals and I maintian my 140 calorie intake of JRs and this girl is calling me fat. Bring it on sista!

The Piano Man is a Guilty Pleasure--Is that so Bad?

I called a friend the other day and was pleasantly surprised to hear that she has one of those phones where the caller hears music until the "call-ee" answers the phone. Lovely! As I was treated to Only the Good Die Young by Billy Joel, I thought, "I haven't heard this forever--and I love it!

Inspired by such a delight, I whipped out my 2-disc Billy Joel's Greatest Hits album and sang like an 80's rock star. Unabashed and unrestrained, I let my pipes go to songs such as Uptown Girl and Tell Her About It. The issue here is, would I have done that with somebody else in the car? Or even with the windows down? Uh...no.

I guess I would consider Billy Joel tunes to be a definite guilty pleasure only to be shared with my sisters. Julie used to have the Greatest Hits tape and, due to the inability to just skip a track, we knew every word to every song.

Many thanks to the Piano Man for sharing Scenes From an Italian Restaurant and making it undeniably clear that We Didn't Start the Fire.

People Will Want to Read About This on my Blog

Generally, thanks to the DVR, I don't watch many commercials. However, due to their over-abundance, I'll be treated to a Sonic commercial every now and then. And by "treat" I mean "the commercials make me laugh."

Personally, one of them rings quite true at the moment. In regards to the item of consumption, the man basically says to his wife, "People will want to read about this on my blog." And his wife, in the most deadpan, slap-down fashion that only a loving, yet grounded wife can give, says, "You mean your mom?"

Yes, I bet that my mom, Julie, and Natalie, (and Ben when he isn't playing the HR guy, studying something about HR, remodeling the bathroom, or working on his car) will be regular aficionados of Mar's Musings.