Something's Missing

One week later, and a few (try 50) dollars shorter, I'm just now getting around to posting these pictures online. Rhonda, Mary Anna, and myself headed to the reknown Ryman Auditorium to see the John Mayer Trio. Okay- well riddle me this Batman, but every tri I've ever heard of has 3 people. Now I'm willing to stretch the imagination and allow for this motley crew to consist of John Mayer plus 3 of his most talented blues-playing friends, making it an ensemble of 4, but when did 5 people onstage constitute a trio? Why not call the tour, John Mayer and Friends, or the John Mayer Quintet? These are things to which I guess we'll never know the answers!

The show was good, but after seeing Coldplay a few weeks before, nothing compares (to you). It would be like comparing watching the UT-LSU game in overtime or seeing John Mayer perform a bunch of amazing, albeit unknown blues songs. ("Something's Missing"- oh yes, all the John Mayer songs!!) Which would you rather partake in? Rhonda and I had our priorities straight and therefore had my imaginary boyfriend text messaging us updates on the game that we would have, retrospectively of course, rather have been watching.

UT won, John Mayer didn't propose to me, but it was a fun Monday evening out with the girls. Notice our one fun That Aint Right Moment- our young friend's I Heart Freshman Girls T-shirt. Now that's just funny. Also thanks to Mary Anna who sacrificed much of the concert to view the show through the lens of her digital camera to capture these photos and many more.

Twisted Logic Tour

I know I'm just now getting around to posting this, but better late than never. I saw Coldplay a few Sundays ago at Starwood Ampitheater. Having seen quite a few concerts in my day, starting with my first ever- New Kids on The Block in 1990- don't laugh- I know some of you were there- this was absolutely without doubt the best show I have ever seen. Yes. better than the Rolling Stones. Better than John Mayer's amazing show last summer (Definitely better than JM's show at the Ryman a few nights ago- that review to come soon). Better than Dave Matthews' 20 million shows that I've seen.

Chris Martin & Co. put on a show that sounded incredible and was visually stunning. What another band might try to do with lights and come off as cheesey, Coldplaywas cool enough to pull off. Bursts of light and video during musical swells, came off as powerful but not overbearing. My one complaint? They didn't play my favorite song off the new album, #8 aka The Message. Listen to this song and pay attention to the Pachabel Canon harmonic structure- it's beautiful.

The pictures are from the show- the one with all the beautiful ladies are my friends from work (L to R: Jessica, me, Beth, Leisa, & Marissa)

it makes me wanna STOMP

It was a fun-filled evening with the girls plus Bart Wednesday night. Me, Emily, Rhonda, Mary Anna, Angela, Ari and Bart went to TPAC to see STOMP. This show has been hyped for a long time so I decided it would be worth the money. And it was incredible- the rhythms they put together using random objects was definitely cool. But the 2 hour show with no intermission was not so cool. I could have used a break to stretch my legs. At one point I even fell asleep (I am Such my Mother's daughter) but there's only so much continual beats a girl can take before they all start running together and begin to bore. Also not cool were the kids in the row behind me that had some sort of severe sniffling allergies that forced a grotesque snorting sound every so often, and their constant distracting chatter. I could have done without that. But the evening had some high points.
There was a really cool scene they did with bouncing basketballs, and of course the cliche broom set that they did to open the show was fantastic. Also, Mary Anna actually followed a guy with a mohak for a potential TAR blog, so that was hysterical, but is it wrong that I was more excited about dinner at Baja Burrito than I was to go see Stomp?

a Rootin' Tootin' good blog

This past Saturday we drove up to Indiana to visit family. While in the car, we amused ourselves by looking at the Ravenwood High School football program. Laura and I would point out players and comment on them, and then Mom would give us the scoop on that player. Towards the back of the program are all the ads taken out by parents and local businesses. One particular ad that I came across was from one local establishment that said "Go Raptors. We're Routin' for you."

"You're Routin for them?" I said outloud incredulously. "They totally mis-spelled that word," I followed. What ensued next was a heated debate. Should it be "rootin" as I claim, or "Routin" as was printed in the program? My evidence backing up my opinion is that you go boot scootin, not Bout Scoutin. And it's Boy Scouts, not Boy Scoots.

My friend Tadd has long since has his own ongoing argument about the spelling of certain words with the "ooh" sound. He claims that Toults should be the correct spelling for the word that rhymes with Foot. I think it should be Toots. Tadd's quarrel is that Toots spelled like that is actually the word that rhymes with Boots. It's a neverending debate, so I open up the floor to you the devoted readers.

Is it Routin or Rootin?
Toots or Toults?

And none of this diplomatic, well I can see it either way. Take a stand and make a commitment.

Draw a Pig

This is a fun personality test I thought I'd share. Mostly because the website is pink and there are cute little cartoon pigs on it- perfect for a Monday morning pig-me-up! Ha-am, am I good or what? Yes, bad jokes, I know- but quit your swine-in' and get to drawing little piggies!

How do I loke thee?

Let me count the ways.

He lokes me, he lokes me not.

Loke is a many spendid thing.

So we had our small group last night- we're still reading Blue Like Jazz- and the chapter we discussed was all about romantic relationships. As a group of single gals- one engaged, one quasi-dating, one with an imaginary boyfriend (this is working by the way), and a few others currently unattacted, we had a lot to say on this topic!

One point that was brought up was the fact the word Love is thrown around all too often. Ashley had a solution for this. She has a friend back in Texas (everybody from Texas thinks their state is the God-given promised land, and so everything is better there according to them. Everything's also bigger there. But I digress.). So her friend coined the word Loke. It's more than Like, but less than Love, and has nothing to do with the rapper who sang the Funky Cold Medina- that's L-O-C.

Let's all try and use it in a sentence. I like vanilla ice cream. I Love chocolate chip, but I Loke rasberry sherbet. I'm not sure how quickly loke will catch on, but it's a good word to throw into one's vocabulary when one has more than lukewarm feelings about a particular person, place or object, but does not want to commit fully to the big L-word. Though I can't take credit for this new bit of slang, perhaps it will revolutionalize the way you talk and will have me saying before too long, You loke me. You really loke me.

No beats here

They tell me that ragweed is what's blooming right now in Tennessee that's making everyone's throats sratchy and flaring up allergies that we never knew we had. I'm not exactly sure the purpose of ragweed- or any weed for that matter. If we know it's causing headaches for thousands of people isn't there some weed killer that we can spray to get rid of it? At any rate, it's here and in full bloom and making this Diva a wee bit tired this a.m. (I'm sure the severe lack of sleep this past week has Nothing to do with my grogginess... nope. Not at all.)

So here I am, starting this beautiful Wednesday morning with a scratchy sore throat, trying to put myself in a chipper mood so that I can in turn, pass on some of that sunshine to you, my dear readers. Because really, after a hiatus from blogging, do you really care about my allergies and want to listen to me whine? of course not. So the whining stops now.

Let's move on to a more reader-friendly topic- the topic of music. Several of you reading this live in the Nashville area- Music City, USA as we have come to know and love our city. Dad is one of many who claim their living through the music business. Usually this means country music, but all that seems to be knocking on his door these days are aspiring hip-hop artists looking for "beats." Dad is not exactly well-versed in hip-hop, so I couldn't help but laugh when he started telling me stories about gentlemen coming to the studio asking for the price of 1 hour of studio time. After inquiring a bit more, Dad discovered these young writers had all the songs in their head, and just needed "beats" to go behind them. So you want me to make all the music for you, and then let you talk over it and take credit for it? I don't think so, is how Dad told the story to me.

I thought Atlanta was the budding southern hip-hop recording industry spot- but maybe Nashville is quickly moving up the ranks. But for now, there are no beats here!

Gimme 2 area rugs on the rocks

So my coworker Beth and myself are trying to round up a few people to go to happy hour with after work today. We are both fun girls I think. So our co-worker Maury (like Povich, not the county south of Williamson) walks by and Beth invites him to go with us. He hesitates for a moment and then busts out with what I think just might be the lamest excuse I have ever heard.
Well, I need to go shopping for an area rug, he says.
Beth and I uncontrollably burst out in laughter.
Maury doesn't really see why this is so funny to us. At least, we tell him, that Mark's excuse was a little more masculine (a Sounds game)- but shopping for area rugs? Come on, Maury. Are we that bad???
I never thought I'd have this much trouble finding friends to go out with after work, but how can I compete with the Home Depot and yards of earth-toned, sturdy fabric?

blind as a... something

If any of you receive any emails from me loaded with typos today, it's because I accidentally left my glasses at home. I can already tell it's going to be a fun day at work, provided my face is 2 inches from my computer monitor. I'm blind as a bat without my glasses, though usually I am too vain and too annoyed to wear them unless I am reading or working at my computer. So I thought I'd do a bit of research this morning- are bats really blind?

Well, as it turns out, no they are not! Yahoo writes to June in Granville, OH (because apparently Yahoo is like Mr. Goodwrench and is omnipotent and is all things to all people) that while all bats can see, some aren't exactly eagle-eyed (which brings me to my next follow-up point: do eagles really have superb vision, and will eating carrots really help your eyesight ala Peter Cottontail?). Bats have this nifty device that aid in their ability to "see" in the dark, so while their vision isn't the best in the world (like the eagles and rabbits), they do take advantage of echolocation- the ability to bounce sounds off an object, including prey, to determine its size, shape, and location. So where's my nifty extra-sensory device this morning??? Looks like I'll be making a trip back home on my lunch break.

A day of Labor (and a weekend without)

Greetings fellow blog readers (because I'm not only the president, I'm also a client.)

It has been several days since we last visited, and so much has happened! First and foremost, I am now the proud owner of pink cowboy boots! Yes, 5 months of no shopping was broken to purchase these special shoes at a nice discount rate. (I'm still debating the worthiness of the break on the shopping ban for these little rosey-hued mud-kickers.) But enough on that pointless debate. So how did you spend your weekend, Amanda? Well I'm glad you asked!

Friday night (lights): went with a group to see the Winter's Tale- Shakespere in the Park. Unfortunately, the fireworks at Greer stadium that could be seen in the distance, and watching Lana's eyes wander and almost fall off the back of the bench we were sitting on was way more entertaining than the actual play. Coffee at Fido afterwords where 4 girls laughed hysterically and swaped inside jokes while 2 guys sat there dumbfounded at our ability to create a party wherever we go.

Saturday: Holt came into town, we went running, laid by the pool, ran a few errands, ate a little ice cream (here's my unsolicited advertisment: Go to Coldstone Creamery this month- their red pan flavor is cookie batter and it's heavenly- I've had it twice already, and it's only the 6th day of the month!!). Went to MA's swanky pad to watch Shag and eat Pizza. Went Bootscootin' at the Wildhorse Saloon in my new pink boots with Em, Natalie, and Holt (in her pink boots as well!). Ended up at the tried and true back patio of Tootsie's Orchid Lounge and sang along with the country and rock classics (Em- our rendition of "Gone" will go down in Tootsies Fun Times Memories as being espeically good).

Sunday: BBC, QDoba, UK football party at the house- hey, we didn't win, but we didn't get massacred either. Holt's Brotha got hurt on the sidelines ("my brotha..."), and Lana became enlightened on Frog Giggin (not diggin'). Franklin Main Street Jazz Festival, aka, a glorified outdoor corner conversation spot in which you pay 5 dollars to enjoy. Football season has officially begun! Woo hoo!

Monday: breakfast with Momma B at Bruegger's, a trip to Wally World, more pool time (darn that living at home), homemade pizza, FSU game at the Penthouse, homemade (read: store-bought) key lime pie from the guys, more pizza. Did I mention that we're excited that it's football season again?? Also I'm excited about wearing sweaters again soon. I think that means I'm getting old. I also think that if that old expression "you are what you eat" is true then I'm turning into a pizza. I had it 3 times this weekend.

Tuesday: back at work... lots of orders, but not much labor going on. I've spaced out a lot today. I blame the 3 1/2 days off. And the psychadelic lights here on the sales floor.

katrina's aftermath

I said to my friend Conley last night on the phone, "so, I hear 100,000 of your closest friends are coming to visit!" (Conley lives in Houston.)

I'm sure like me, you've all been glued to CNN watching in horror the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Listening to the stories of the stranded people with no food and water, doctors fearing for their lives as they try to help patients, and the highly televised looters has caused me to shake my head in disbelief. (Which philosopher during the Age of Enlightenment said that man in his natural state is barbaric and therefore we need laws to govern us? I'm in a hurry trying to get out of here for the weekend otherwise I'd research it myself- but I just didnt want another day to go by with me ignoring the current situation our nation is in.) Please take advantage of the many organizations that are collecting funds and sending aid- every little bit helps. Also, remember that as Christians, our biggest weapon that we have is prayer. Pray for the families who have lost loved ones or are missing, pray for the military and police who are attempting to restore order; pray for the local government in these southern states who are trying to mobilize the aid given and to be able to help their people as best as they can. More than anything, pray that God is glorified and that lives are changed through this catastrophic experience.

I Love you all! Have a great weekend!! Don't drive if you don't have to!

meet my new boyfriend

I had a conversation with my friend Mitchell last night about dating relationships (see August 11, 2004 for Mitchell's insightful 7 stages in a dating relationship for a good chuckle). He called to talk about football, but inevitably our conversation turned to our lack-of-luck with the various men and women in our lives.
"I can't find a girl who'll put up with me for more than a week," Mitchell complained.
"Well that's funny," I said. "I can't find a guy I Want to put up with for more than a week!!" Then Mitchell had a brilliant idea.
"Let's say we're dating then. There's something weird that happens when you start dating someone that makes other people suddenly attracted to you." I couldn't argue with the guy- he was absolutely right. (Even though the kid is on a 6 year plan in college, you can't deny his street-smarts.)
But what is it about seeing a guy or gal that you know is taken, but you crush on them anyways? I suppose it's the old adage we want what we can't have. But it's an undeniable physiological occurance that makes the opposite sex attracted to you when they know you're taken. So hello single men out there, I'm dating Mitchell! Mitchell is my boyfriend. Are you listening?
I doubt this experiement will work long distance, but it's worth a shot, right? :o)

Amanda "the Hurricane" Bradley

Anyone who knows me well, knows I am obsessed with following hurricanes. From June to November, you can often find me surfing weather.com, following the massive storms, and even crushing on the storm chasers (Jeff Beddis, where have you been during Katrina??). On Saturday I received no less than 3 phone calls from in-the-know friends who were making sure I was keeping up with the ginormous Hurricane Katrina who was spiraling towards New Orleans. The funniest part was that while listening to one of those voicemails, I was standing in front of my tv, watching the weather channel.

And so yesterday I came into work and everyone was all abuzz keeping up with the hurricane. My boss Joel knows how much I'm into following these storms, and he told me that since I've been working here, I have brought 2 hurricanes our way up to TN. "I bring the hurricanes with me," I said. "That's your new nickname," he exclaimed. "What? Hurricane Bradley?" I asked. "No," he replied. "Just The Hurricane. And you have to refer to yourself in 3rd person- ie. The Hurricane is not happy with you. The hurricane would appreciate it if you would get out of her way."

So from now on, you may all refer to me as the Hurricane if you wish.
(Yeah... we'll do anything for entertainment around the office!)

Some favorites from the weekend

All photgraphy courtesy of Ann Wade Parrish (http://www.awpweddings.com/). This website is not quite finished yet, but you can still navigate around.

so THAT'S where they all are!!

The Weekend in Pictures

Ok, here we have cutie-patootie Dave Barnes, the Unicorn Women, and our group of lovely ladies that went out on our Girls Night out: (L to R, back row: Melissa, Lisa, Amy, Becca, Lana. Front row: Sarah, Rhonda, Mary Anna)

Don't eat the lotion!

Do you ever have those nights where you have something scheduled to do that you really don't feel like going to, but then once you get there, you are so glad you went? Well that's how I felt about Bible study last night, except that I really didn't have a choice in the matter about going- we were meeting at my apartment, so I didn't have the option to skip! I had had a crappy day at work (boys are dumb, and that's all I'll say), Emily had a crappy day too, so we sat in our living room and had a sob-fest (minus the tears) about our collectively crappy day. Then 7 o'clock rolled around and it was time for Bible study.

Somewhere in the course of those 3 hours, my attitude gradually changed from bitter and out-of-sorts to giggley and grateful for the wonderful friends I have in my life- maybe it had something to do with the gab fest we had afterwards,each of us one-upping each other with funny stories about work and friends ("Have you seen the nipples," Lisa?), Sarah's synopsis of the Crunk-umentary movie, "Rise," or being content to stand in the kitchen for 30 minutes finalizing details of our awesome weekend ahead. But by 10 till 10 when everyone finally left, I was giddy and not anywhere ready to go to sleep.

Em wandered in my room and picked up my bottle of Coconut Lime Verbena lotion, opened it, and sniffed. "What is it about this stuff that smells so good?" she wondered aloud. "I would say the coconut," I said. I paused. "Or the Lime. Or the Verbena."
"No seriously, this stuff smells good enough to eat," she said.
"well why don't you?" I dared.
"No way! I'm not eating it!"
"Come on, just a little taste."
"N0. You taste it."
Well, I couldn't back down since I was the one who started it. How bad could it be? I mean, one taste wouldn't kill me, and it did smell quite heavenly.
"Ok. Fine. I will..."

... I know the suspense is killing you ...

so yeah, I put a teeny bit on my finger and touched it to my tongue. At first taste it was pretty yummy but then it burned going down and a disgusting lotion taste was left in my mouth for the next 15 minutes or so. I do not recommend eating lotion, for future reference. No matter how good it smells, do not, I repeat, do not eat the lotion! You should be so lucky, that I took one for the team all in the name of research, and did the unthinkable for you all, so you wouldn't have to.

a treatise on reading x-rays and gourmet bread

Not to disappoint you the readers, Tuesday turned out to be a very funny day, though I'm just now getting around to writing about it. (disclaimer: The stories are not as funny however if your name happens to be Lana or Laura)

We had a LONG overdue SOGWEAW lunch (not luncheon, because I hate that word) yesterday afternoon at the new Moe's in Brentwood (Welcome to Mooooooeeeee's!). While eating and enjoying our lunch we covered such important topics as when to say "I love you" in a relationship, Che Guevara and communism, and Lana's wisdom teeth; a breadth of important issues, you will note- the latter being the initiator of an eruption of laughter heard 'round the restaurant, according to Ari who was unfortunately in the Ladies room when Lana described where she thought her wisdom teeth were currently residing in her mouth, and the direction the teeth were pointed... "at least I think that's where they are," Lana said. "I don't read x-rays." I found this particularly hilarious and so more of the table was laughing at me laughing than they were at Lana's totally serious, totally innocent comment.

Across town in a Brentwood home, far away from the excitement at Moe's, a young girl brought her gourmet meat, cheese, and bread home to enjoy. Her name is Laura, and this is her story.

My sister Laura is an amateur chef, and so she loves those hoity-toity gourmet food markets. Yesterday she bought some fresh deli meat, some kind of cheese that she has discovered she has a taste for (manchego? ever heard of it?), some wine, and a french baguette. She takes her food purchases home to the house for a while before she packs it all up in a cooler to go home to her apartment in Murfreesboro. Upon pulling out of the driveway, Laura realizes she has forgotten the french baguette, wrapped in its paper bag, on the kitchen table. She does the obvious thing and goes back inside to retrieve her bread, but comes quickly to the stark realization that it was not there! (cue the mysterious music)

Laura rethinks her steps, trying to figure out if perhaps she was mistaken and the french baguette was indeed already in the car, but she was certain it was not. There could only be one explanation to conclude the disappearance of her dinner bread, and as she peered cautiously into the den, her worst fears were realized. As it turns out, a four legged monster with black fur named Stockwell had devoured her fancy-schmancy french baguette, paper and all, as was evident by the bown paper shreds all over the floor. Are we surprised? This is the same dog who ate Mom's fresh cake she bought from the Mennonite ladies, or my box of Godiva truffles a few years ago and lived to tell the tale (or tale, since we are talking about Stockwell here).

This turn of events was enough to ruin Laura's day, as she gets her heart set on a particular meal once she has it in mind. She did buy some publix bread to stand in as a poor substitute, but the baguette was simple irreplaceable. The most amusing part is that Stockwell knows good food when he smells it, and if you threw a regular piece of break at him, he would turn his nose up at it. Sorry Laura, but I hope you don't mind us laughing at your expense!

Blue Like Jazz: Live

The Blue-Like-Jazzers spent last night with the author of our current study book, one Donald Miller. Em and I got there first to save seats, and we were peering at the men in the front of the room curiously, trying to decide which of them was Donald Miller. We found one gentleman who seemed to fit the part- he was in his 30s, had funky, blonde hair, wore flip flops with his blazer and T; Yes. This, we decided, was Donald Miller. Because this author is "cool," and this blonde trendy guy looked like a Donald to me! As it turns out, trendy blonde guy was not our guy at all, but rather one of the worship leaders. It figures the trendy guy would be a music person. I should have known better. Donald Miller ended up looking not at all what I would have pictured. He's a "Fatty Mcfunny!" Em and I exclaimed once we discovered the author's identity.

(sidenote: the term Fatty McFunny term is meant to be endearing and not offensive. It denotes my personal preference in guys who have a great sense of humor and are built like a Teddy Bear or a football player- they have some stock and meat on their bones. I think it stems from my desire as a girl to feel protected and safe with a guy she is dating. Also my dad is not a small man, so take that Freudian philosophy as you will. end sidenote)

So Donald ended up being this 6 foot 3-ish jolly, 34 year-old, happy-go-lucky guy, and of course, he did not disappoint us in the humor department. Yet he was able to command the audience's attention and bring home poignant thoughts on the lack of our fundamentalist Christianity. He espoused beliefs on adhering to a set of principles or following these amount of steps in this number of days to be considered a Christian. Instead, he proceeded, it is all meant to be about relationships. The metaphors in the Bible, he said, the shepherd to the sheep, the father to the son, the bride to the bridegroom, all describe how we are to view our relationship with Christ. To Love, Donald reminded us, is to give up everything to be with that person- in life and in death. Anything less than that kind of love cheapens love altogether. So it forced me to think. Here in Postmodern America, where I have never experienced any kind of threat to freely practice my religion, have I really died to self? Have I really given up everything to be with Christ? Have I really given up anything at all?

I know the answer is yes, I have made sacrifices along the way to deepen my relationship with God, but they have been small in comparison to many. I long to figure out the so-called reckless abandonment that comes with fully loving God, and living my life with an eternal perspective.

Then Donald Miller got to the crux of his talk. He started drawing all these religious parallels between Romeo and Juliet and the struggle of Shakespere's day between the Catholics and the Protestants, also Christ's relationship to the church- but I'm not sure how much I buy into all that. At the very least, it gave me something to research further for myself, and really made me want to go home and watch Baz Lurhman's Romeo & Juliet!

Lisa, Mary Anna and I stood in line afterwards and got our picture with him. He seemed genuinely surprised that we would find his book worthy of a Bible study topic, and was really a nice guy to meet.

Bizarro Emily

So Saturday night Laura made her famous homemade quesadillas (dangit, Napoleon...) and we had a little dinner party of sorts. George was there of course, as were Mary Anna and Emily. The first thing my mom says to Em when she sees her is,
"when did you get your hair cut?"
to which Emily replies,
"a few weeks ago."
"But it wasn't that short when I saw you last Sunday at Cracker Barrell,"
Mom commented. All of a sudden, Emily gets this funny look on her face and says,
"I didn't go to Cracker Barrell last Sunday."
Well everybody starts dying laughing, because Mom and Dad swear up and down that they saw Em and even talked to her! Apparently Emily's Bizzaro twin pretended like she knew Mom and Dad, gave Mom a hug, and told them she couldn't talk because she was on the phone with her friend from Spain!

There is a Seinfeld episode that talks about how everybody has a bizarro twin somewhere in the world- a person who looks exactly like you but is no relation whatsoever. I have come to the conclusion that Emily's Bizarro twin lives in the Cool Springs area.

Either that, or both of my parents are seeing things; kind of like, big, big birds on the roof of our house...