Top 11 Tweets of 2011 ⁵

I’ve always had a healthy sense of self-esteem.

At times, it may be overly healthy to tell you the truth.

Like on Christmas Eve, when I decided to wear a backless lace dress covered in black feathers with false eyelashes and bright red lipstick to our church’s candlelight service.

In my humble opinion, I looked awesome. Totally rocked it.

Pretty sure everyone else thought I looked crazy, and mildly inappropriate.

The phrase “woman of the night” may or may not have been mentioned during one of the hymns.

Whatever. It just wouldn’t be Christmas if I didn’t wear something scandalous.

So yes, sometimes my confidence gets me in trouble by causing me to make choices that are daring to put it lightly.

And sometimes, It causes me to shower myself with accolades.

So, in the spirit of congratulating myself, I’ve decided to celebrate the mediocrity that is my Twitter feed.

Technically, this wasn’t all my idea.

I’m blaming this on my friend David. And the fact that I never pass up an opportunity to laugh at my own jokes.

Whether they are spelled correctly or not.

The fact that I have a mere 157 followers is irrelevant, of course. (Want to up the number? Click here to follow me! And click here to follow David!)

So, without further ado, my top eleven tweets of 2011:

11. Most honest tweet

Sometimes after a long day at work, I secretly wish Flo Rida would greet me at my door with a platter of buffalo wings.

Pretty sure I confused a lot of people with this one. To clarify -- Yes, I meant this literally, and of course he would be singing "Right Round" when I arrived home. Obviously.

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10. Best Twit Pic

Apparently, he's not the "romantic" type

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9. Best tweet About the Husband

Scott just told me he loved me. Ok, maybe he burped it. I take what I can get these days.

Yup. Definitely not romantic.

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8. Best Tweet About the Dog

If dogs went to college, mine would have majored in pooping on other people's flowers.

With a minor in looking cute while farting

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7. Best Tweet About the Husband and the Dog

This started out romantic. It ended insulting, yet accurate.

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6. Best Tweet About a TLC Program. (And the dog. Again)

Dog competing in Toddlers and Tiaras on TLC Ultimate Grand Supreme

She is not, however, opposed to biting full-grown huskies. In the face. At Starbucks. I suppose this means "Miss Congeniality" is out.

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5. Best Typo

The tacos are served by señors, not seniors. Although, I'm not totally opposed to a waitress with a walker.

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4. Best Use of Misdirection

I need to quit texting while driving. Makes it nearly impossible to apply makeup.

Misdirection is a fancy comedy word I learned from Scott. Head-on-collision is a fancy traffic word I learned from experience.

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3. Best Tweet About Underwear. And, of course, the dog.

Spent a good 30 seconds trying to put on a pair of underwear before realizing it was one of my dogs t-shirts

Finally I just gave in and wore it anyway.

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2. Best Tweet About my Dad. No Dog in This One. I Swear.

The kicker? They were women's skinny jeans. At first I was embarrassed. Then angry. Finally, upon realizing my dad has very long, shapely legs and zero cellulite, I landed on jealousy.

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And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. I just couldn’t pick a favorite tweet, so I went with the creepiest. Plus, it rhymes.

1. Best Beet Tweet

Told you it was creepy. Pretty sure I lost at least a dozen followers after I unleashed this little gem. But it was totally worth it. Because now, every time you eat a beet, you will think of this. And I will laugh, while beet juice creepily runs down my chin.

I promise, I’m not a cannibal. And I would never dream of slyly muttering “Hello, Clarice” every time I eat roasted beets.

No, of course not.

That would be strangely, pathetically twisted.

And wrong.

And something I would totally do.

Merely to frighten the husband, of course.

Let’s move on, shall we?

I realize these tweets are by no means gold. More like gold-plated rhodium that leaves a green tint to you skin if you wear it for too long. But, as it is the end of 2011, I felt a “best of” list was in order, and it was either this or my 11 most disastrous recipes of the year.

Which ironically, also involves beets.

And Flo-Rida with that platter of chicken wings.

Flo Rida with a platter of buffalo wings

Happy New Year, Homies.

If you’re not totally freaked out right now, might I suggest subscribing?

Subscribe to receive email notifications when a new adventure is posted! And no more cannibal jokes. Promise.

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"Sober up. We're going to Wal-Mart."

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The Masterpiece

Recycling is gangsta ³

I’d like for you to meet my good friend, Shakira.

She makes a man want to speak Spanish

Sorry…not that Shakira. Not that I have anything wrong with the Latin songstress and her peanut butter voice of wonder.

It’s just that the Shakira I was referring to is far more glamorous.

She makes a man want to drink lattes

There’s a She Wolf in the coffee.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

So how did this jewel-encrusted coffee goddess come to be?

Shakira was not born. Shakira was forged. Forged from a perfect storm of heartbreak and recycling.

It all started when my phone rang a few Saturdays ago. I picked up only to hear the solemn voice of my younger sister Hayley on the other end. In a calm and composed tone, she simply asked, “Can I come over? Justin and I just broke up.”

For those of you who don’t speak “girl”, this roughly translates to “Let’s eat, drink, and bedazzle the heck out of something.”

Luckily, I minored in bedazzling while at college.

Alright, technically I didn’t have a minor…but if I did, it would have definitely been bedazzling.

Or possibly over sharing. Whatever.

Once Hayley arrived, our first order of business was a trip to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for dinner. I had been dying to make these miniature chicken pot pies I spotted on Pinterest, and tonight seemed to be the perfect occasion.

And then it happened.

On our way to the cheese section, there was a miracle on Aisle 3. In a serendipitous turn of events, we happened to stumble across the Holy Land of holiday pastries.

I give you, “The sample table so magnificent, I thought it might be a mirage”:

You say samples, I say therapy.

This just may have been the most glorious display of simple carbohydrates and refined sugars I had ever laid eyes on. It was as if the fine people at QFC somehow knew about the breakup, and had offered this spread to us as their own personal way of saying “It’s OK with us if you just want to eat your feelings.”

The best part? The table was unattended, meaning no one would bear witness to the carnage that occurs when a member of the W. family encounters a spread of free samples. We were free to have all of the glory, with none of the judgement.

Hayley wasn’t actually hungry, but I made sure to try two of everything. You know, just to make sure the pastry paradise wasn’t a figment of my imagination, or something.

And that’s all I’m going to say about Hurricane Katrina’s destruction of the QFC bakery section.

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We arrived at JoAnn Fabrics (Scott’s favorite weekend destination), with a mission.

A mission to prove, once and for all, that rhinestones are better than boys.

After deciding glitter-ized birdhouses were kind of lame, and decoupaging craft letters is so 2009, we stumbled across these bad boys.

Diamonds...er...rhinestones in the rough

Scott has been hounding me for months about how wasteful it is to use a new cup every time I visit Starbucks. He’s kind of a recycling Nazi. I never knew why he cared so much about recycling and composting, until a visit to his mother’s house a few years back.

She showed me a home video circa 1997 of him performing a rap (complete with choreography and school-appropriate gang signs) about recycling during a junior high school assembly.

Suddenly, I understood why Scott makes beat boxing noises while chanting “Turn it off! Turn it off! Saaaaavvveeee the power! Turn it off! Turn it off! Ruuuunnnnning water!” every time I’m in the shower.

Or as mix-master Scottie would put it, “Errrtime I’m in da shower.”

Arapahoe Public School District, I blame you for this.

I soon realized that by transforming a reusable coffee cup into a marvelous array of rhinestones, I would:

1. Save the planet

2. Look just a little bit more like the 27-year-old version of Rainbow Brite

3. Get Scott off my back about the whole paper coffee cup thing

4. Breathe new life into Shakira’s lack lustre musical career

So really, everybody wins.

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Fueled by the miniature pot pies, Hayley and I began to bedazzle.

Hayley’s cup turned out slightly more ~~subtle~~ tasteful than mine.

This cup is like Shakira’s younger, sweeter, more innocent sister who wouldn’t dare shake her hips in someone’s face or crawl dramatically through a pile of mud while singing a semi-generic pop song.

She would on the other hand wink, gingerly hand you a giant lollipop and then blow a kiss over her shoulder before tap dancing into the sunset.

It is for these reasons my brother Janss suggested we name her Shirley Temple.

"Oh, gee! A coffee cup named after me?"

Technically, his exact words were “You should name her after that really annoying girl from a hundred years ago with the curly hair who likes to make faces.”, but we knew who he meant.

Side Note: I still want Hayley to drink an actual Shirley Temple out of the Shirley Temple cup (genius, right?), but apparently she’s too good to ingest a little high-fructose corn syrup. I suppose that means the lollipops are also out.

I just want to say that in no way shape or form do these coffee cups represent the personalities of my sister and I.

Seriously? She's wearing a medal while holding a baby? I haven't even been given a fair chance.

Okay, okay, fine. So maybe she’s the Shirley, and I’m the Shakira.

At least I’m not like, Lindsay Lohan, or anything.

I wish I could say the same for my coffee cup.

She's seen better days

Let’s be honest — this cup is one reality show away from a not-so-ladylike photo shoot.

I suppose this means it’s back to the disposable Starbucks cups.

Snoop Scottie Scott won’t be too happy about this.

Although every legitimate rapper does need a blinged out pimp cup.

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship

UPDATE: Scott and The coffee cup formerly known as Shakira were BFFs for about ten minutes. Then she went all Lohan on him (removing all of her ~~clothes~~ rhinestones) and was promptly returned to me.

Not gonna lie, I kind of like her better in her “naked” state. The rhinestones might have been a bit…um…much.

So, it looks like I will end up saving the planet, one latte at a time.

In keeping with the theme of celebrity names, Shakira now goes by "Rooney". As in Rooney Mara from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. It seemed like a good fit as they both seem to have a penance for nudity.