*Insert Maniacal Laugh Here*

Happy Halloween, Everyone!

If you're curious about Howl-O-Scream...don't worry, I'll fill you in later. For today, however, I just wanna talk about Halloween. Mwah-hah-haaaa!

I'm still as excited about Halloween now as I was when I was a kid, only now I hand the candy out instead of banging on doors and pleading for it. I went to Target on my lunch break for the sole purpose of purchasing candy (yes, I'm a procrastinator) and returned with Whoppers, Snickers, "Jumbo Caramels", and peanut butter M&M's. Don't knock Whoppers...they're pretty darn good in my book and an absolute bargain at $2.11 compared to those rob-you-blind Reese's Peanut butter cups at $5.99 A BAG!!!

For educational purposes and your reading pleasure, here are a couple of things to keep in mind regarding Halloween "etiquette":

1. Conserve Candy and Rot the Teeth of More Children.
Now, learning from past experience, you can't just go handing out candy willy-nilly or you'll run out after about 45 minutes and then where will you be? Either faced with pouty, verge-of-tears children in their fairy-princess and Spider Man costumes who just can't understand why you're not giving them sugar-coated lard balls. Or raiding your pantry for canned goods. Or confronted with a 17-year-old in a "Scream" mask, dripping blood, and nothing to give him to get him off your porch (plus, as an added bonus, your house and/or car egged later as a result). Instead, pace yourself and give only one piece of (moderately sized) candy to each child. If you're worried about looking stingy, simply grab one piece in your fist (so they can't see it) so it looks like you're grabbing a wad, lower your hand COMPLETELY into their bag, and drop it so that they never see how much or what you're giving them, they only hear/feel the drop. Even if they look in their bags after you retract your hand (and they inevitably will), they can't see that well through the eye-holes in their mask. They'll mumble "thank you" and get on to the next sucker.

2. People--please hear me now because I won't say it again and I don't want to see crying kids and sketchy egg-weilding teenagers glowering at me when I do actually run out of candy (it's gonna happen eventually, after all). WHEN THE PORCH LIGHT GOES OFF, AIN'T NO MORE CANDY!! Don't come up on my porch in the pitch dark, silhouetted against the street light outside thinking that if you stand there and ring the bell or bang long enough, somebody will come give you something. We're OUT! No More!! Go Away! I've got eggs of my own!!

Lucky for you, those are my two main things to keep in mind on this glorious holiday of Halloween. You will find me tonight, once I give out of my six bags of "fun-sized" candy, watching Garfield and Charlie Brown and eating freshly baked Pillsbury chocolate chip cookies with the orange and black M&M's. No you can't have any. Get off my porch.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Neese's Liver Pudding: Breakfast of Champions!

Good morning all!

It's been a loooooong week but this weekend (I have high hopes) will rock like....a crazy person. The weekend festivities start tonight with the arrival of Jeffrey, Nathan, and Caroline who are all spending the night at the Sloan casa before we leave at the (as Ken would say) "butt-crack of dawn" to head for Howl-O-Scream at Busch Gardens. I'm so excited I could do something inappropriate, as always before a big trip. One of the best trademarks of a road trip is leaving before the sun comes up. That's a given. You can't head out on a road trip at something like nine o'clock in the morning. The Man is awake by then so if you want to stick it to the Man (and who doesn't?) you leave before he gets and tries to prevent you from doing anything crazy. That makes sense to me anyway. If it doesn't make sense to you, you're normal.
So yes, we're all hanging out tonight and getting up in the (later) wee hours of the morning to hit the road, hopefully, around five thirty. I figure if we shoot for five thirty, we'll be on the road no later than six. That's what I'm thinking anyway. In the meantime, there's been talk of pumpkin carving tonight, baking cookies, and possibly watching a fil-m...but I don't know. That might just be me talking to myself. Howl-O-Scream will probably be packed, considering it's the weekend before Halloween and supposed to be sunny, but hopefully it'll be fun despite being surrounded by gaggles of annoying tourists like ourselves. The whole park is re-vamped (pun intended) to be a gigantic "haunted house" of sorts, complete with clowns in masks, pirate skeletons, and even the occasional creepy carnival worker (but what carnival worker isn't scary?). Plus, hopefully, a whole lot more. If a clown touches me, he/she dies, that's all I've got to say. I'm also hoping that the weekend will include a visit to--my favorite--Colonial Williamsburg. They have a "ghost walk" as well which my family and I have been on before and had fun so with any luck(nagging), I'll talk everyone into going again.

In case any of you were wondering, water polo last weekend was a'ight. I learned a lot, having four games to watch all weekend, and came away with a new pseudo-respect for the game. Those guys have to be tough, I have to say. To tread water and swim and fight to get the ball and score and throw/catch with one hand for an hour would end in certain death for me. For these guys...they're so tough they didn't even seem to notice their near-nude status. Unfortunately, I couldn't help but to notice. No, that's not a good thing.

If you're in the mood on Monday (Halloween, by the way) for harrowing tales of blood-curdling screams, werewolves, and tourists who, despite the cold weather, refuse to abandon their shorts/pulled-up socks/fanny pack ensemble, then check back here and I'll do my best to scare the proverbial poo out of you. Otherwise, check back anyway...I have the ability to scare and bore people alternately.

Have a great weekend people!

By the way....Congratulations!!! to Yam on becoming the uncle of a brand-new, completely adorable baby boy!

Typical Work Day Email (Edited Somewhat For Your Reading Pleasure)

Note* The previous email ended with "What are your thoughts on that topic?" And may I also apologize, Blog-spiration is running short today.


The "topic" being whether or not you should go work out? I'm always
one to opt for laziness when it's raining outside and if you have
specific obligations for the evening so I say screw it for the night.
Besides, your kitties need you.

Gum can't have more than five or ten calories a piece so therefore, it
is null and void as far as caloric content goes. You burn more than
ten calories going to the bathroom.

I'm getting a headache. Just so you know.

Uh....I don't know how food has zero calories but it can. Take jell-o
for instance. Never mind, it has ten whole calories per serving. I
too, am baffled that food can contain zero calories. In fact, I can't
think of any zero calorie foods at the moment. Maybe paper. Let me
know (morbid curiosity) if you come up with any others since the whole
idea of zero-calorie food is a novelty to me. you mean to tell me you
could eat pickles all day long and it could be (almost) the equivalent
of breathing heavily? You could starve to death from pickles?? Wow.

I think i'm going to have to go buy more yogurt because i'm fast
running out. The idea makes me anxious as the purchase of twelve cups
of the same yogurt usually gets me a few curious looks at checkout
time. The things I put myself through for six different live bacteria
cultures.

Have you ever had baked Cheerios before? (or cooked ones, same thing)
My Dad used to make this when I was little. He'd take
plain Cheerios, put them in a big bowl and pour melted butter and
sprinkle salt over them. He'd then spread them over a baking sheet and put them
in the oven for five to ten minutes. It sounds incredibly weird, I
know, but they're insanely good. I think I'll make some friday night
(p.s...if you're in town friday, you should come by. I'm going to
watch charlie brown and garfield halloween cartoons and possibly carve
a face on something. It should, theoretically, be somewhat amusing.
come on by.)

Back to work i go again. Write me if you have time.

Melissa

*Insert Obligatory Random Title Here*

Good Morning, my Peeps (and Random Blog Surfers)!
I write to you from beautiful, foggy, Cary, NC in a pretty darn good mood as I'm drinking Dr.Pepper and eating a breakfast bar. Sugar, sugar, and more sugar...the best way to start the day.

I know you're all wondering what my plans for the weekend are. And if you aren't, shame on you. Well, as Yours Truly is going to be out of town for the next three weekends, I will therefore have plenty of amusing anecdotes to regale you with on Monday mornings. This weekend, I will be traveling to Virginia to see my favorite boyfriend compete in a water polo tournament with a bunch of other Speedo-clad guys from NC State. Talk about a good time. I had the good fortune to make it to their one in-state tournament at Duke last year and I have never seen so many white legs and hairy backs in one place in my entire life (NASCAR coming in a close second). It was there that I learned that apparently ECU recruits from among the Wookie community for their H2O polo team. Pride for ECU swelled in my heart.

I have to say, in considering all that is involved in playing water polo, I think it would be an extremely difficult sport to play, both physically as well as emotionally (I realize this sounds somewhat like an essay, but not on purpose, I promise). First of all, you have the obvious challenge of playing what is pretty much water basketball, most of the time in a pool so deep you couldn't touch bottom if your life depended on it (literally, in my case). So not only do you have to focus on the game and work with your teammates to get the ball in the little goal while defending your own, but you also have to constantly tread water and swim....a feat most people would find difficult on its own for the amount of time it takes to finish a game. I get exhausted just watching them.

Second of all, you have the emotional trauma of being active in a competitive event wearing nothing more than a full-piece swimsuit (girls) or worse, a Speedo (you poor guys!). I have to admit, I don't quite understand the necessity of the Speedo in an event like water polo. In competitive swimming, you're fighting for the best time and striving to break records so yes, shave your entire body, wear a g-string, and slather yourself in Vaseline if necessary. But in water polo, you're not so much going for speed or trying to make the "best time" so much as just trying to score the most goals. If you're all wearing blue jeans, for pete's sake, you'd all have the same handicap and therefore, could still play competitively. You know what I mean? I say put them all in some conservative swim trunks (in the case of some of them...please!) and then they're all working on the same level playing field, figuratively speaking. I guess what I'm getting at is that Speedos should be a last resort, an absolute necessity. We spectators aren't there to see all that. Believe me. There are just certain things I don't want to see. Ever.

Adding to the emotional trauma of water polo players are the little swimmy caps they have to wear throughout the game. They're usually red or blue (best I can remember), with the team member's number on the side somewhere. And worst of all, they have little ear flaps and tie under the chin, much like those little lacey bonnets you see on pictures of babies from the late 19th century at their Christenings. Cuuuuute!

I've threatened Jeffrey to show up with a camera and a zoom lens this weekend, but I realized I wouldn't want to put him through any more trauma than that he's already had to suffer at previous tournaments. More importantly, I'd kill him if he did that to me. I have to admit though, there's fun in the threat.

Until Monday, have a lovely (rainy?) weekend, go to the State Fair before it closes on Sunday, and do something you've never done before. At the risk of sounding incredibly sappy/Hallmark-y/TimMcGraw-y, I've realized that life goes very quickly and if you're not careful, you'll look back and do a lot of wishing. It's a big world out there and there's never been a You before so get out there and do something you can learn from and tell stories about. Meet people. Do something that makes you uncomfortable. This is my new goal for myself which, at the absolute worst, will give me all the more somewhat amusing stories to tell you guys. I envy you all for your good fortune in that respect.

Drink coffee. Nathan does. It's the hip, college thing to do. You go, Nathan!

"Zorgas Borgas! I Just Got Bit by the Love Bat!"

...and it's driving me maaaaad!
I had to get that last part it because it's part of the title, it just wouldn't fit. It's like starting the first part of a chorus and not finishing it..it'll drive you nuts:
"Row, row, row your boat, gently down--"
See? It's enough to give you a facial tick.

NASCAR. I might as well get this over with. NASCAR didn't make me happy. In fact, it made me contemplate deeply the meaning of life. No, not "Why is it that we all must function here together as humankind" kind of thoughts (although that eventually came in to play too), but more like "What's the friggin' point??" Maybe I should insert a disclaimer here that those NASCAR fans out there who may happen upon this post by accident (because I don't think I personally know any hardcore fans) should try their darndest not to get offended by this post. Take it easy and go badmouth me behind my back with one of the other hundred-something thousand fans who were at the race on saturday. I won't know and I promise I don't care.
First, let me start off by saying that at least 50% of the sucky time I had at the race was because we got there seven and a half hours before the race even started. This was due, largely, to the fact that the vast majority of the people Jeffrey and I went with are huge NASCAR fans and they had all purchased pit passes to get in and meet the crews, drivers, etc. (we found out later that they didn't really get to meet anybody). The pits opened at two so I guess the theory was to get there two hours before that so you could go around and see the spectacle that thousands of NASCAR fans will inevitably create of themselves (the other 50% of why my NASCAR experience sucked). When I say this I mean that I have never seen so many mullets, pointless tattoos, and missing teeth in one place in my entire life. The cliche really is true. Plus, you could bring in whatever alcohol you wanted so that meant the more drunk you were, the better time you had (much like Halloween in downtown Greenville). Weed and alcohol were being enjoyed in large quantities around us and I was astounded at how many people brought children and even pets. One thing I noticed that depressed me greatly was the number of scantily-clad teenage girls that had been employed to give out promotional flyers and merchandise in front of all these trailers that were set up by various sponsors and drivers. It was ridiculous. I don't think Jeffrey thought it was quite as ridiculous as I did but he tried to sympathize whenever I grew indignant and voiced my annoyance. We spent the first three hours at the speedway wandering around in clouds of dust from the gravel that was everywhere, watching bits and pieces of demonstrations of everything from engine construction to Sharpie markers. There was even an old Ford that you could use a handy drill to cut quarter-sized holes into if you were so inclined. We stopped at the Bojangles trailer (everything was in trailers) where I ate my first six-dollar chicken fillet sandwich (not biscuit, mind you...sandwich. chicken and bun. That's it.) and a bottled Coke. I figured I'd walk off any unhealthy effects throughout the rest of the day. I was right. Eventually, we went in to find our seats where we proceeded to sit for the next four hours. I don't know why there weren't more people inside the actual speedway for three reasons: first, there was shade and plenty of it. Second, there were lots of food vendors and no lines to get to them. And third, the bathrooms were all but empty so you didn't even have to think about a port-a-john.
Anyway...blahblahblah, horrifically long story short, the race itself lasted five hours with no decent wrecks and the one driver I picked to pull for didn't win (the Target car for obvious reason). I observed a phenomenon among the rabid fans during the race that I didn't quite understand and that was their tendency to point repeatedly and emphatically in the direction the race was moving whenever their driver reached wherever they happened to be standing and cheering in the stands. It was like they were saying "This way! Go this way!!" I wanted to tell them it wasn't like they were watching Billy Bob run a foot-race in the woods or something. The drivers know where they're going and they know they need to get there as fast as possible, right? Again, I hope no one out there is taking this personally, including Billy Bob or any of his friends. You go, Billy Bob.
I was also amazed at the number of people who were willing to get a cartoon character tattooed on their body, where it would remain for the rest of their natural lives. Tweety Bird? Seriously?? Yosemite Sam also seemed a favorite, brandishing beer mugs instead of his six-shooters, of course. One rather skinny woman with large teeth had a cryptic tattoo on her bicep that depicted an eye crying a drop of blood inside a large sun. Not sure what that was all about and perhaps I should have asked. The eye did have lovely lashes though so kudos to the artist for that. Nothing has quite topped Colby's espresso machine tattoo with the flaming espresso beans though, as odd tattoos go. As we both worked in a coffee shop at the time though, I'm guessing that after a few beers at the tattoo shop (his second job) late one night, he became passionate about his work in the coffee business. I'll have to tell you guys about Colby some time as he was a really interesting guy and fun to work with but I think he'd detest being included in a blog entry about NASCAR. So my apologies to him and I'll move on.

There's really not much else to say other than, yes, a fight broke out at one point to the chants of "Get it on! Get it on!" by some hygiene-deficient woman in front of me who was waving a cigarette rather violently and flinging ash all over the place. That was one of the highlights of the evening. To cut this already long story a bit shorter, the race lasted five hours and so we left shortly after twelve. I am told it took us over two hours to get out of the parking lot in our two fifteen-passenger vans and then another three hours to get home but I don't remember any of that as I was asleep for most of it. I woke up briefly when we stopped in Ashboro at a convenience store where I got out then as I had a sudden hankering for a Twix. But then resumed sleep about fifteen minutes later. We arrived home at around five in the morning.
So I think I can safely say that I have attended my first and last NASCAR event. It's an entire culture in and of itself that I don't understand and hopefully, I'll never appreciate. Props to those of you who find great joy in watching a line of cars circle a track over and over and over and over again but I guess I just don't have the attention span for it. With earplugs and headphones on, I discovered that it's entirely possible to doze off during a live NASCAR race. Who would've thunk? Regardless, I'm glad to be back home and I've never slept so well as I did after I got back and my head hit the pillow. You can have NASCAR. I sure as heck don't want it.

Let me say before I go: Happy Birthday Mom!!! I love you!!!

And to the rest of you out there, thanks for actually reading this thing. It really means a lot because it gives me an outlet to do what I love most: writing. Once I start a band and publish my first book (not necessarily in that order), you're all getting a free copy (album or book) and an autograph. Unless I go on the road with U2 before then, in which case, I'm sorry and you'll just have to suck it up. I'll send you a tour sticker or something.
Have a great day guys and as I have great plans for increasing posts, keep checking back!

Something to contemplate: What're the guys from "Perfect Strangers" doing now?

It's Friday. That's All I Care About.

I have to comment, first of all, on the fact that I'm not especially fond of the picture my brother chose to put of me on my profile. In this picture, as you can see, I'm interestingly dressed, wearing a military jacket and a pair of shorts. Nathan can tell you exactly what kind of jacket that is since the picture was taken to use as he attempted to sell it on Ebay. All I know is that it's from the 1930's or '40's (okay, i might not have even gotten the date right), it's from the Soviet Union, and some dude (a rather small one, seeing as how it fit me almost perfectly) who drove a tank wore it. I thought it was pretty darn cool and I'm not sure why, exactly he wanted to sell it, but he did and I was chosen as the model. So in case you ever wondered what the heck I'm wearing in that picture and why I'm wearing it, there you go. Nathan, we've got to find a new picture.
Actually, I need a digital camera so I can put my own frappin' pictures on this thing.

What to talk about today? I know it's hard to believe, but there's not a whole lot that's interesting that I have to tell you about. I'm going to my first NASCAR race tomorrow in Charlotte, but I'd rather not talk/think about that. Okay, OKAY! Fine....gosh! (a' la Napoleon Dynamite....okay, nevermind that was dumb. I'm now annoyed with myself for thinking that). I know you all want to know all the gorey details about how I got roped into this but it's pretty darn anticlimactic in story form so I'll just break it to you now all at once: My company is paying for it, I don't have to drive, Jeffrey promises it's fun, so he and I are going. There you go. Jeffrey's been to one NASCAR race before in his life and seemed to enjoy it so I'm going to attempt to go and enjoy myself as much as will be possible wearing day-glo yellow earplugs and surrounded by beer-guzzling redneck racing enthusiasts in NASCAR commemorative hats and t-shirts. It'll be a stretch. I can't even watch this stuff on television without wanting to slam my face in a door repeatedly to stave off boredom. But darn it, I can be a good sport about anything and never let it be said that Melissa Sloan isn't up for trying out new things/experiences! Besides, I'm trying to look at it as a cultural experience. One that i'll try to forget later.

Jeffrey asked me to mention here, for reasons unknown to me, that he managed to knock his glass of water off the table at On the Border where we ate for lunch, covering his right leg and most of the floor next to our booth with water. The manager and one of the waiters was quick to clean it up but also quick to laugh at him about it, even bringing him a water refill in one of those plastic-lidded kiddie cups. Ha ha ha. Ha. What struck me odd and later made me laugh heartily for reasons not one of you is likely to understand, is that my first instinct when it happened was to reach over and casually dump the contents of my glass of tea onto the floor right next to where his cup landed. I don't know if this was an instinct to try to make him feel better or just to see how much beverage-dumping we could get away with in one meal but I'm pretty sure if I'd've done it, we would've been asked to leave the restaurant. Without my little styrofoam to-go cup of sweet tea, which is currently sitting to my right. I'm a tea addict, but that's another story for another day. Anyway, I don't know why this idea, once I realized it, made me laugh out loud, but it did and it still gets a chuckle when the thought occasionally crosses my mind. I know you don't get it, but you're missing out on a good laugh and that should make you sad.

I have to mention here, as well, and on a completely different note, that I just bought the Keane cd yesterday and the more I listen to it, the more I really, really like it. Everybody's probably heard their song "Somewhere Only We Know" by now (and if you haven't, you should feel appropriately out of the Loop)...it's the reason I bought the album, besides the fact that they're currently opening for U2 on this leg of their north american tour, and so far it's still my favorite song on the album. But following closely are "We Might As Well Be Strangers" and "Bend and Break". They sound like a combination of Coldplay, Radiohead, and Jump (Little Children), if you can imagine that. If you can, go get the cd because you'll really enjoy it. If you can't, go get it anyway. I promise you won't kick yourself.
I also have to say here that I'm developing more and more of an admiration for the music of Death Cab for Cutie. Having been a fan of The Postal Service for many months now, I was afraid that Death Cab wouldn't live up, but boy howdy, was I wrong. What I've heard of their last album, Plans, so far has taught me never to doubt Ben Gibbard, or any of his fellow musicians, ever, ever again. Their song "Soul Meets Body" is my favorite so far but I'm sure it'll get harder and harder to choose a favorite the more I hear of them. Nathan's going to go see them at the end of the month up here in Raleigh and I have to say I'm jealous for not getting in on that while I had a chance. As a result, I think we should all badger him for a blog posted concert review the day after the show. Look for it on October 28th.

Well...that's about it for now. Go ahead and breathe your inevitable sigh of relief. I'll just turn Keane up so that I won't hear you. Tune in next time when I'll tell you a riveting tale of Skoal, #3 bumper stickers, and hopefully, a good wreck or two.