Hey - it's Tam

Some things to get off my chest:

Because we all log in under the same unsername and password, the "blog" doesn't tell me who is actually blogging. I am old and slow. Just know that, if you don't identify yourself, I may not know it's you and, therefore, cannot give you the credit or razzing that you deserve for your blog.

Ok, so I'm no rocket scientist (or apostle for that matter), but I'm pretty sure it's a sin in God's eyes TO YELL AT A TEMPLE WORKER! That hag is going straight to hell. Way to put her in her place, mom. You go, girl!

I now own stock in Starbucks. I am supplementing Erik's pay. Erik, I am coming to see you in February. Could you please have a grande, single shot, sugar-free vanilla latte waiting for me when I get there? Oh, and a Classic Coffee Cake?

Steph, I'm still looking for you in airports. Let's see...in the next two months I will be traveling to Savannah (via Atlanta), Las Vegas, Bend, Portland, Dallas, Malibu, Denver, and Nashville. You?

Here's my life...went on a marketing trip last week in Vegas with the CEO and CFO of my company. Our first appointment I caught the heel of my stiletto shoe and went flying a** over tea kettle and landed sprawled out on the cement. CEO came running over..."are you ok, are you ok?" I jumped up so as to ease the humiliation and indicated that I was fine. Went into the appointment and smiled and chatted as the blood ran down the front of my leg under my pants and my left ankle increased in size. As stealth as possible, I reached into my Prada bag and retrieved the only two Ibuprofen I had, and choked them down. With guts (and dried blood) I went through the balance of the day trying to walk without a limp and making smart-mouthed jokes about myself and my lack of coordination. Evening finally came...we checked into the hotel and then decided to have dinner there at Benihana. Delicious meal. Afterward, I rode the elevator up with Mr. CEO and Mr. CFO and pretended to drop them off at their floor. I then punched the DOWN button so hard that I broke a nail, and I limped (ok, really DRAGGED) along to the sundries store in the hotel and loaded up on anything to kill the pain. Upon returning to my room, I began to feel a rumbling in my stomach and promptly threw up for the next several hours. No sleep. Next day, on the way home, I got my finger smashed in a conveyor belt/airport security tray mishap. Finally, in what is now referred to as "The Incident" I board the plane and swing my carry-on suitcase into the overhead bin, only to have it catch on the edge of the bin and come careening down. In order to save the bald gentleman below my bag, I swiftly grabbed the end that was plummeting, but the momentum was too much and the bag hit me square in the mouth, providing me with a fat lip for the delightful ride home.

I am no longer allowed on Lake Mead Blvd. in Las Vegas, the Hilton Hotel, or Delta Airlines.

Love,

Tam