Too Many Books

I got tagged in a fun blog meme, because ND at Delicious Ambiguity thinks I am a fun blogger. We do have some important things in common, since I think she is a fun blogger, too. For instance, last Friday she was feeling a bit prickly and wrote a list of her greivances of the week, including this wrongspice boy she once, I assume, quasi-dated. I sent my former rebound flame a really nicely thought out birthday card in hopes that he has gotten less hateful in the 6 months since we last spoke, and he responded via email, "Thanks for the birthday card. I have no desire to reconnect with you right now. I hope things are well." Don't you just love her already?! You must check out her blog! So, the rules of the meme are to post a list of things you like/love/hate, and then link to three bloggers who you admire! All you have to do is fill in your likes/loves/hates after the bolded words! :) Have fun! I like the cool side of the pillow. I like sleeping in on Sund

Oh, alright. You didn't ask for this, so I won't tell you. I won't tell you about the explosive way I decorated the back end of the toilet seat yesterday during my lunch hour when I almost didn't make it to the loo... or the details, including the way it happened -- in which I began decorating while still in hover mode, pulling down my pants with an urgency... or that after I cleaned up my earth-toned artwork and was back in the living room touching up my Wednesday blog post that felt a little something chilly near my tail bone, and had to change my panties. No, I won't tell you about any of that. Because even though being a poopy-pants certaintly fits the TMI Thursday category, it's just far too disgusting to admit that I can't get my pants firmly around my ankles and seal my ass to a toilet seat on time at the age of 28. I mean, seriously, that's repulsivespice. Who would read or comment on a blog post like that anyway? What well-adjusted adult

Over a year ago, my mom and dad decided to clean clutter out of their own house and, in an attempt to streamline, they went ahead and gave me boxes of things they had saved from my childhood -- if I'm honest, things I didn't really expect I see until they died or something gruesomespice like that. Whatever, it's fine. I'm not complaining about it, even though it isn't like I really have the room in my house for boxes of cards I was given when I was five, or worksheets and stories I wrote in the second grade. I hadn't even really dug into those boxes until last night. I found one little "story" I wrote (and we'll use the word story lightly here) called MY FUCHER. (It took me a minute to realize I'd meant MY FUTURE.) Hilar. My Fucher I want to mary a boy who will stay home all day and clean the house. I would not stay home. I would work as a singer or hope to. I want to have a babey girl. I would name her Lynn or Trecey or Nciol. I woul

Thank God. (Virus 2010: defeated.) I was starting to get the shakes from having quit social networking almost cold-turkey. And, boy did I need to get out a good blog post this afternoon. I can always tell when I'm feeling particularly rant-y. My fingers fly over the keyboard with ease. I don't think twice about what I am going to type or how witty I will sound -- and usually, if you'll excuse my vanity, I think these posts end up being some of my best. Work has me a little stressed out today. I am so thankful for my lunch hour -- and that I am now sitting at home (that was for the benefit of the suits, you know, letting them know that I am not in the office as I compose this blog entry) sipping leftover morning coffee. And perhaps letting out a primal scream or two. To be honest, the marriage of my former bank and my current bank hasn't been that bad. Yesterday was kind of like our wedding day, and now we're on our honeymoon -- already bickering like an

Sadspice. Le laptop has le virus. I will most likely be unplugged for a few days -- or until hubs purchases the spy-ware we need. If too much time goes by, I will probably go to the local library and borrow their computers in order to post (can't miss TMI Thursday!) and read your inevitable comments about how much you've missed me. (Because you will be commenting about how much you miss me -- right?) Come on. Throw me a bone.

My old bank officially closed today. I'm sadspice. The bank were I worked merged was bought out by the bank where I started working about a month ago. (Officially, I am still working for the same company, it just has a new name and now I work at a different location.) My old branch closed at 2:00 this afternoon. Some of the branches will reopen Monday morning with a new sign on the door, new brochures in the racks and blue-and-orange-everything. (Instead of green.) Not my old branch: it's gone for good, probably to become a McDonalnds or Kentucky Fried Chicken. (I secretly hope it is turned into a Starbucks with a drive-thru, since it's super close to my house. I would go brokespice, but it would be worth it.) So, I went to lunch just in time to stop in to my old branch and be there to see the very last customer and to lock the doors. (I'll admit, I got a little choked up.) It was so weird to drive past the building on my way home tonight and see a dark build

Grab your dinner plates: I've got a smorgasbord of overshare for you this evening. (Feel free to come back for seconds. It's all-you-can-eat over here tonight.) - Sometimes when I'm at a red light or stuck in stop-and-go traffic I examine my split ends and forget to pay attention to real life. Usually, horn honkers politely advise me when cars are moving again.  - I am almost always attracted to male authority figures, especially when they specifically have authority over me. - Also, sometimes when men say condescending things, it kind of turns me on. Is that weird? - I have uttered the following sentences and asked the following questions: a) I know it's wrong, but I judge. Wait, is it wrong to judge? b) Do you know what she smells like? She smells like poor people and tears. c) What is going on here? Power to the whites! (That was after Halle Berry won the Oscar, and clearly, I was joking.) - I once saved a condom wrapper -- I stuck it in my sock drawer (um, is

I must be a girl. Several things made me cry -- like actual wet tears on face -- today. I am not ashamed to admit the first thing that opened up my tear ducts (faster than chopping an onion) was American Idol. Finding out who makes it to the Top 24 (i.e. the-performance-round-which-is-all-that-really-matters) is one of the highlights of the Idol season. Tonight's episode revealed 7 of the lucky 12 guys and the lucky 12 gals who are younger than me have the chance of a lifetime. When that gal Didi found out she made it? Yup, I went all sobspice. Cause her friend died and stuff. And, she had on a cute hat. And, she sang a Kara Dioguardi song during Hollywood week. I heart her! Secondly, I cried when I noticed the state of disorder which is my checkbook. (Bankers sometimes get overdrawn, too.) Luckily, I have that credit line which spots me in fifty dollar increments. So it isn't like I got any transactional overdraft fees. (If that had happened, I'd probably sti

This just happened, while I was sitting here reading blogs and my hubs was playing a shoot-em-up x-box game. (This whole scenario is also known as federal holiday: in which bankers get a paid day off .) Hubs: This guy I'm killing on here? His name is Zack Attack. Me: Is he aware that's the name of Zack Morris' band? (I just wanted to inform you that sometimes here at the musings of amber murphy headquaters, there actually are some really romantic moments.) Likely, I'm just feeling generous after getting flowers, a couple of IU tee-shirts (I think he finally got my "no jewelry" memo!) and being cooked a tasty medium-rare filet last night. Ohh, and there was a cheesy card, too, which, let's be honest, wasn't as good as a funny card would have been. How was your Valentine's Day? Did you eat chocolate? Was there passion?  Were you alone, even when you were with someone? Oh, hell. You all know me. It wasn't really as bad as all that.

Courtney Reese is hosting a love at first sight blogfest, in which writer's write about the icky love stuff. Check it out -- there are already a ton of entries over there. Okay, so my scene isn't really love at first sight for my mc, Laurel (in fact, she doesn't even want it to be) but this is the first time she interacts with her second love interest, David.  Read! Enjoy! Critique!      A sea of southerners filled the lobby of the movie theater. David Winter stood at a neon orange podium in the center of the throng, his head throbbing. He tore off one ticket stub after another, pointed the masses in the appropriate direction. The work was monotonous. Most of the patrons were lost in conversations with one another, and they paid David the same lack of attention that he showed them. He tried not to grimace at the giggling teenage girls, the smug looking guys in gold chains, the overweight middle aged couples: all annoyed him equally. Thankfully, the line was startin

I have been feeling kind of low the past couple of days. I mean, there are multiple factors, a couple of which are sports related. The end of football season is always a sad time (I'm like a man , I know) and I'm currently watching my Indiana basketball Hoosiers play the number 13 ranked Wisconsin Badgers, in what is sure to be another painful loss. (We're currently getting blown out.) There are other important motivating factors: the general state of disorder that is my house, the crabby way in which I have interacted with hubs as of late, my overall lack of an actual social life, and financial woes a plenty. (I mean, I didn't even feel like blogging yesteray, and when I don't blog on a weekday, it usually means I'm having a pretty awfulspice day.) I think I'm just exhausted from my new work schedule. Don't get me wrong -- I really do like my new bank branch, but work is no longer a place where I already know everything about my job.   (Yeah, so

Last Friday, I posted a confession (mother mary, comfort me) regarding my TMI embellishment bold-faced-lie. (I think the reason I felt most guilty was that the title of last Thursday's post was TMI: in which I am long-winded but it is worth it in the end. And you know, since the end was the part where I lied.) So, I offered to put aside my pride and, as penance, answer all of your burning questions. What was I thinking? Little did I know... Well, let's just jump right in: Ashley Stone , who has known me for more than a decade, got the ball rolling: haha....well I heard a little rumor back in high school about you and a certain someone sneaking into the unfinished side of my basement during the "Design for Murder" cast party at my house. Haha...true? Fabricated? ; ) Oh, Ashley. Let me answer this question with another question: are you allowed to be mad at me for something that happened more than ten years ago? I hope not. That being said, I do not

Yesterday evening when I got off work the snow was coming down pretty hard and the wind was whipping it around -- biting cold, such a nasty, slushy day. I got gas (which was non-negotiable) and then pointed the car toward home, feeling crampy and exhausted and frozen-toed. I called the hubs as I always do after work. "Are you stopping for dinner?" he wanted to know. "No, I really just want to get home. The roads are not great." Etc. He was pissy all night because I wouldn't stop for fast food. (When I'm the one with the valid excuse to behave that way, what with the PMS and all.) When I turned onto our street I called again. He was parked curbside, and I wondered if I should do the same. He assured me that I should park at the top of the driveway. Let me give you a visual: our driveway is sort-of-hilly, like two flights of stairs with a landing between them. It slopes, then flattens, then slopes again. So, the point of the story is that he commande

This is the best day of my life. I just realized that I can blog at work. I tried to pull up my blog on my worky-computer not long after I started my new position with [name redacted] Bank. I enetered my bloggy address and a warning box came up that said h eck, no, you can't go... there. Today, I thought, what the... and tried again. I logged into my google account and -- here I am. (I'll pause for your soulful ovation, your tearful applause...) Thank you, thank you. I'm touchedspice. Please, sit down. So yeah, I'm at work but there's no work to be done right now (even though every area school is closed, no one is out and about today.) Louisville got a snow dump of some inches last night, and the roads are empty and white today. No, it isn't much -- it's still snowing and we're looking at a total of maybe seven inches by the end of the day. (I know you guys in the D.C. area probably want to tell us Kentuckians me personally to suck it

Thank you, dear readers, for leaving me questions to answer in the comments section of my Friday post . Since 90% of your inquiries will require answers in the realm of TMI, I will be responding in my Thursday post. Did you forget to ask me a personal (or impersonal?) question? There's still time! Feel free to ask away. All topics are fair game -- and I'll be required to answer, as I am very, very brave and do quite enjoy the weekly overshare. Moving on. I'm certain several bloggers are posting about the big game last night. As a Colts fan, I am disappointed that my Christmas pajama pants did not turn out to be my lucky charm. However, as a football fan, I found the game exciting. (That onside kick to start the third quarter was ballsy genius.) Furthermore, as a relatively decent human being, I was happy to see the Saints win one. So, congrats to the South. (Plus, both Sean Payton and Drew Brees are seriously hotspice.) (Sorry Peyton Manning. You're still

For those of you who read my TMI post yesterday , I have a confession to make: it was truth or scare in disguise. The entire story is true except the last paragraph. Though I was the waitress of the family in question, years after the camp events described, I did not contaminate their food with any of my bodily juices. Confessing that the end of the story is untrue is not very fun. In fact, I feel my ego deflating a bit as I type this now. I wish I was that person -- someone able to perform acts of sweet revenge. But, in my six years (plus) as a waitress, I never once messed with anyone's food. I mean, I may have peed once mid-shift and neglected to wash my hands, but let's be honest -- who hasn't done that a time or two? I'm crestfallen. Yesterday marks the first time I have fabricated a story for TMI Thursday. (It's way more fun to tell the truth.) I feel there is a penance to pay -- that I must redeem myself for the untruth that was told. I th

Back when I was churchy, I went to a churchy summer camp. Kids from all over the state of Kentucky would gather for a week of Jesus at a tiny little campground just outside of Louisville. When one was old enough, the cool thing to do was to volunteer to work at the camp -- cleaning the restrooms, helping in the cafeteria, and serving snacks at the canteen (which is called The Manna Hut . I told you it was churchy.) Since I lived about 15 minutes from camp, I decided to make history the summer I was sixteen: I volunteered to work all six weeks. The Camp Director even decided to pay me for my efforts -- I earned a whopping $125.00 per week, which I was encouraged to put into a fund for an overseas missions trip at the summer's end. (I think I saw dollar signs in my eyes, so I decided to skip the trip and pocket my pay. I'm pretty sure the Camp Director -- who organized the trip -- was not entirely pleased with my decision.) The camp is always divided up into teams and comp

Yesterday, I made a promise. I promised my husband that I would do the dishes tonight. This is not awesome. The sink is full to overflowing and I have a sneaking suspicion that the majority of the dishes and utensils may be best described as crusty. The predicament is that I have not done dishes in um, over a week. Granted, that's only 4 or so actual meals in the Murphy household. Typically, we eat at least one frozen pizza per week, which requires minimal cleanup. We never cook breakfast (unless it's at dinner time!) and when I do come home for lunch, I heat up something lean-cuisine-ish and dirty only a fork. Then there are the nights -- like tonight -- when I bring home Qboda and chew away stress. (Chicken nachos > antidepressants.) I'm procrastinating... there are several items that are daunting me more than a little: there's a casserole dish from shepherd's pie which is soaking at the bottom of the sink like long-buried treasure, certain to be alg

It's hard out there for a bookworm. I stayed awake until 1:00 in the morning reading THE ROAD. I am more than two thirds of the way through, and I just couldn't put it down last night. It's hard to find a stopping point since there are no chapter divisions, and since it is the best book ever written. Well, it's already on my top ten. When I finally decided I had to get to bed, I flicked off the television with the remote, then got off the couch and pressed the power button in an attempt to turn it off again. Oops. (I do bizarre things when I'm sleepy.) In other news, I missed out on the fight scene blogfest hosted by Mireyah Wolfe over at Crimson Ink . Sheeshspice. I really wanted to post a scene in which my main character gets all up in someone's grill. Look for my belated fight scene: coming soon. In the meantime, I will leave you with this important piece of information: it's one month until my birthday! Will there be a bloggy birthday party

Sleepyspice. That's the story of my life, I guess. I stayed up too late last night watching the Grammys. (There were some super weird performances and some moving ones. Enough said.) Can you believe February is here? I'm proud to say that I am well on my way in the 100 book reading challenge for 2010. I just started my ninth book of the year -- Cormac McCarthy's THE ROAD. I'm 70 pages in, and it is so devistatingly good. Here's what I've read so far this year: THE LITTLE FRIEND by Donna Tartt EXTREMELY LOUD & INCREDIBLY CLOSE by Jonathan S. Foer NO WAY TO TREAT A FIRST LADY by Christopher Buckley THE MIDDLE PLACE by Kelly Corrigan MIDDLESEX by Jeffrey Eugenides LOST IN THE FOREST by Sue Miller THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING by Milan Kundera HOW TO BE GOOD by Nick Hornby (I'm pretty sure I blogged all these titles after I purchased them all at 1/2 Price Books, but you certainly needed a refresher, right?) I signed up for Goodreads