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Check out the funniest commercial ever.

I shop at Lane Bryant. In case you're not familiar with this store, it caters to plus sized women. I never really noticed this until Charity pointed this out when we were in LB.

Charity: Dude! That's jacked up!
Me: Hmm?
Charity: The mannequins! They're like a size 5!
Me: Huh.
Charity: They have the clothes all pinned back on them.

I never really noticed it before. Matt mentioned maybe it was because they don't make plus sized mannequins. Hey, maybe that's the case. But it's kind of jacked up that they'd pin clothes back to show off the mannequin's figure that's a size five, and you and I both know the clothes in this store aren't going to look the same on ye average customer as they do on the body of a 7' tall 24″ waist plastic doll. Why even have mannequins in the fatass store? Hmm! Size 24! Let's pin it up on a size 4 mannequin an pin back twenty eight inches of material so we can hide the fact we're trying to sell a neon tent! I am the only one who has ever noticed this?

Matt and I are currently sitting on the couch and I just let one go.

Matt: OH GOD!
Me: What?
Matt: So vom!
Me: Nuh uh. I can't even smell it.
Matt: Because you're down wind!

…a few moments later

Matt: OH GOOD GOD!

I'm so proud.

Got off work a little early today, so I thought I'd veg in front of the TV for a few. On came a local commercial. Dude talks about how ever since he got this car insurance, he does everything fast. He jogs fast *insert video of Dude running and throw on fast forward*, works fast *insert Dude shuffling papers around and typing random keys*, and eats fast.

Enter stage left wife in ghetto lingerie. She whispers in a sex kitten voice, “Baaaaaaaaaaaaaybeeeeeeeeee? It's time for beeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeeeeed.” Camera flashes back to Dude. Dude slooooowly turns and looks at the camera, this smile spreading across his face. He leans in, as if to tell you a big secret: “Well, I don't do everything fast….”

I just don't understand how marketing could possibly fathom anyone taking this advertisement seriously. Not that I sit around and analyze commercials all day, but there's absolutely no credibility and the last thing I think about upon viewing that ad is car insurance. Maybe I should make a career change…

Here it is, 6:54am on what appears to be a gorgeous bright and windy day here in Chicagoland. The bright part I'm cool with. The wind? No go. It makes my flyaways even more obscure.

Day three of training. I'm learning a lot of interesting stuff, but admittedly, the first two days of training ruled. We get paid eight hours, no matter what, and both days we've gotten out early. Hopefully today's one of them, too. I don't have much planned, but I'm getting spoiled getting let out at 4pm and being allowed to take hour and a half lunches. Guess I shouldn't get used to it, eh?

Stepped on the scale this morning, and whoah, what do you know? 289. Under that 290 mark. I should be under the 280 mark at this point, but I have to admit to not trying very hard. Suddenly, I ran out of motivation. It happens now and again. Going to start up again today. I have my 1.5 litre of bottled water sitting in the fridge and I'm going to have salad for lunch. Already determined that. So. Which should I go for? Black short sleeved shirt or red short sleeved shirt? Both are slimming and are probably two of my faves that I own. Despite the wind, I'm glad I can break these babies out and get rid of the sweaters, though I don't see that happening this weekend. Rain, rain, and cold. Ugh. I'm going to wrap this post up. There's really nothing of interest I wanted to say, just felt like rambling to you. I'm sure I'll post something a bit more substantial this evening or tomorrow.

I'm at the end of Hag's visit. Patent pending Nicole, of course. This is probably why tonight, while sitting on the couch with Matt, kitties, and Jazz Birdie (ask Matt about that one) at the part in The Sixth Sense where the little boy and his mother are sitting in her car, I feel my lower lip tremble. It's toward the end, where he finally tells her he sees dead people. She doesn't believe him, so he mentions how grandma comes to say hi once in awhile, and that she's sorry she took the bumblebee pendant; she just likes it so much, etc. But that's not even the part that gets to me the most, though it's close. The very end where Bruce Willis realizes he's really dead and he's talking to his wife. And the movie ends, leaving you with their wedding video playing, Bruce declaring his love for his movie-wife and how he never thought he could stand up in front of his friends and admit to being that happy and very much in love. Suddenly, the thought flew through my head - I can't imagine Matt ever not being in my life. I truly don't think I could go on, should we ever be apart for some reason. So, as I'm furiously trying to IM with a friend of mine trying desperately not to look at the tv… TV bad, IM window gooooooood, Tvbadbadbad, IM gooooooooooood! Good, dammit! Don't listen to the TV, Jenn!

But it was too late. I was listening, and by God, I was bawling. Thanks, H. Appreciate it. I love watching an already sad and emotional movie, but I love it when you knock it up a few million notches and derive my thought process from going 'Huh, this is a pretty sad movie.' to “My God, if Matt were to ever die, I couldn't go on! How can she go on?! Could I ever be with someone else? No! I never want bad to happen to Matt! I can't imagine how those old couples do it; being married 67 years and then one of them passes on… I want ice cream.”

I love being a girl. It's not worth the great rack. Trust me on this one, guys.

Matt and I were driving home from Chevy's tonight, and I had mentioned I was going to try and stop cursing as much as I do. The fact is, I don't like how it sounds. I catch myself dropping the F bomb along with many others during regular conversation. Why do I do this? I never really stopped to analyze it until tonight on the ride home. I do it because I haven't properly thought of what I planned on saying, so all kinds of gems spew out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them. I've been trying to pay attention to myself when I talk, and I'm just not liking what I hear. Granted, sometimes when you're really upset, nothing quite expresses exactly how you feel other than colourful language. Hey, it happens. The question is, why do so many people curse so much even during regular ol' convo? Is it laziness? Is it lack of thought? It really amazes me that people have such poor control over the English language, myself included.

In case you didn't know, the last two weeks of my work life has consisted of income calculations. During this time of viewing thousands of paystubs and W2s, I've been thinking a lot about me and Matt's financial future. I've decided to invest, invest, invest. I've already got the 401K started, I've managed to pay off my student loans and credit cards, and now all I have left is $6500 on my car. Once this is complete, I'll up my contributions to 401K, and start stocking away extra cha-ching to mutual funds, stock, and savings. If you'd like more information on my obsession, visit A Motley Fool.

We made this absolutely phenominal salad tonight for dinner. Took maybe 45 minutes, all prep time included. The salad was a deliciously simple combination of romaine lettuce and scallions, the sauce a light yet bold, tangy yet sweet mixture of BBQ sauce, extra virgin olive oil, maple syrup, and the juice from a navel orange. Mixed with the crisp salad, it's a blast of asian. The best part is yet to come, however. The bgawk, baby. It makes this dish. A little flour, nutmeg, salt, pepper, crushed pecans, orange zest, and some egg to hold it all together coat the chicken tenders. Simply fry them up, throw them in the salad, and you're good to go. Truly, and not because I'm the chef, it was one of the best salads I've ever had. Restaurant quality, for sure. You can find the recipe here. Enjoy!