I have issues with people and their cell phones. Check out this week’s Top of Utah Voices column for the Standard Examiner. Sorry for the rant, it’s why they pay me the big bucks (which are actually kind of small).

Okay, I have to save it for this week’s column, but let me tell you all, right here, that Jason is very, very not lame. He’s leaving in the morning for five weeks of special agent “I Love To Shoot Guns” camp, and I’ll be a lonely heart this Valentine’s Day.

I really thought he’d just do the old send flowers to your valentine gig (which is a really good idea, hence the link, and something all lazy men should consider). But no, he’s way more sneaky than that. I tell you, sometimes it pays to be married to a good secret keeper.

So whether you’re just going to send valentines day flowers to your honey (again, could I make this any easier for you?) or if you’re more along the lines of the old hot air balloon ride/trip to Maui crowd, we’ve only got one week, people! If you want to come up with something that’s non-boxy and creative, put your noggin to the wheel and think.

Personally, I would love to think of something fabulous I could send my absent man this week. Any good mail order Valentine’s Day surprise ideas that aren’t flowers (because he’d probably get made some serious fun of)? I need your creative brains. Help me.

My first grader is doing geometry. I am serious, rhombus, parallelogram, trapezoid, and a few others I can’t recall due to PTSD–they’ve been showing up in his homework for a week now. I actually have scholastic anxiety over his homework.

We went in for our parent/teacher conference this week and I mentioned that I have no idea what any of those things are, to which his teacher kindly suggested that I google it. Right. Google. I obviously never considered this option because I never use the internet. Seriously, there are moments that I wonder they ever let me out of elementary school to begin with.

Earlier this year I wrote a rather public article about my thoughts on elementary school homework–as in, I’m not really a fan. Let’s just say teachers everywhere (especially local) wanted nothing more than to put a dart board up in the lounge with my mug on it.

And I have to confess, I have a panic attack every time I pull into the drop-off zone of my son’s school. It takes a ten minute pep talk and a diet coke just to scrounge up enough courage so I can show my face inside, and the entire time I’m there I feel like at any moment I’ll be accosted with tar and feathers. (Please note that there has been no actual evidence of tar or feathers, and that these fears live primarily in my own little head.)

The thing is, I hate it when people don’t like me. There, I said it. Call it what you want, but knowing that there is a large majority all gathered under one roof, who would probably be very happy if I didn’t exist in their school district, is enough to make me want to run to the playground and hide under the slide.

And so, when Harry’s teacher mentioned (twice) that she was low on parent helpers, I couldn’t seem to speak up. I tried, really I tried. I’d like to be a mom who helps, but I’m also a terrified loser whimp.

Let me tell you, it took A LOT of guts for me to email her yesterday and offer my services once a week in the classroom. A lot of guts, and an outbreak of hives. She hasn’t gotten back to me. Honestly, I don’t blame her if she doesn’t want me and my hives around, it looks bad for business.

So about two weeks ago we moved into this new blog design. At the time, my designer wasn’t really open for business. Don’t get me wrong, she was doing business all over the place, but as far as plugging herself all over the World Wide Web? Not so much.

So here is Caroline, of Caroline B Designs. She’s fresh, she’s brilliant, and she recently redid Sue’s blog over at Navel Gazing. This is an incredible feat since Navel Gazing has been under construction for the past seventeen years. Seriously, it’s a relief to see something that doesn’t involve cows or clouds. Go Caroline.

Check her out, and give her a shot. And in case you haven’t heard, not only is she one of the giant brains behind Mormon Mommy Blogs, she’s also running the Casual Blogger Conference happening this Memorial Day Weekend here in Utah. The conference is going to rock (did I mention that I’m speaking?). It’s designed for the mommy blogger, the girl who wants to learn just a little more about photography, or writing, or enhancing her personal blog design.

The thing about the CBC that really sets it apart is simple: it’s not about being a high-rolling professional blogger, it’s about connecting with all those other moms who share their hopes and dreams–both private and public–in the blogosphere. It’s about taking our hobbies and dreams to the next level, thanks to this crazy little thing we call a blog.

And the best part? It’s actually affordable. I think this is the reason I’m such a big fan of the CBC, because instead of forking over $300 or so dollars for a conference, they’re making it something mommies without monies can afford. For the day pass at the early bird price, it’s only $99–not to mention the hefty swag bag awarded to the first 100 registrees (still some left…). That’s an incredible deal, especially considering the amazing voices that are going to be teaching, (including CJane, Sue, Kristina, and my favorite photographer, Veronica Reeve, just to name a few).

And in case you’re looking for a place to crash, my house is open. Check it out, it’ll be the best extended GNO you’ve ever experienced.

In case you missed it, I was live yesterday in the worst shirt ever to air in the history of televised fashion. I swear it’s cute in real life. It was so bad that when I saw it, I wanted to vomit, and when Jason saw it, he couldn’t hold back the, “What in the heck are you wearing?” comment. Then I kicked him, ran to my room, and ate half a carton of sherbet.

I was planning to wear a totally slimming black outfit, but the pants weren’t cutting it and I could not, for the life of me, find my sweater. I threw this on three minutes before walking out the door, trusting that my instincts couldn’t lead me astray. Stupid, chubby instincts.

Check out the link in case you missed it yesterday and would like to see me looking really fat. And I know, fat is a relative term, but for me, this is a total crap shot. I can complain, it’s in the warning.

I have a word to say about the Miss America pageant.

Who, in the name of store-bought beauty, ever thought it was a good idea to let me participate in a pageant that involved swimsuits? Because any girl who goes out there, on that stage, of her own free will and choice, is literally begging the world to judge her. Please, criticize my thighs, it will help me be a better person.

(For the record, my enhanced bosom at the Miss Washington Pageant is still a prime family topic at all holiday get-togethers. Any time cutlets are served someone is bound to say, “Remember Annie’s cutlet’s at Miss Washington?”)

I will do everything in my power to encourage my daughter to look for scholarship opportunities elsewhere (unless she’s cocky and self-centered, then I’ll sign her up and cross my fingers she lands 1st Runner Up). I love the Miss America program, but I can’t help feeling slightly heartbroken for all the hopefuls who walk away from their pageanting experience sashless. Oh, the unnumbered fallen.

In other news, I’m spouting off on Studio 5 today, working with Darin, who I’m sure is thrilled to spend seven minutes of his life talking about low-cost/high-maintenance beauty tips and tricks for the not-so-natural blonds and other store bought divas. Crossing my fingers it’s a good hair day (as in, hair out of my face day).

See you on the telly, KSL, 11 o’clock to-day. I’ll try to post the segment if I can.

Today is a good news day. Not only am I getting together with a group of undisclosed girlfriends to party like we did in 1999 when we were all young and hot, but I have some good, great, thrilling news.

First, I just got an email from the Standard Examiner asking me to start writing my Top of Utah Voices Column twice a month. Dave Ramsey is going to be so excited, that means I’m going to get paid double. (Do not be deceived. Double still isn’t that much.)

Second, Monday is my first ever solo gig on Studio 5! That’s right, sometime during that magical hour between eleven and noon I will be on KSL, spouting off about my favorite wintertime low-cost beauty tricks and tips. It’s going to be good stuff, stuff I haven’t even told you about yet (which is kind of shocking since I really do tell you almost everything). So set the DVR and join me on Monday. (I have no idea what I’m going to wear, but I’ve gained five pounds in January, so it will probably be very, very black.)

And lastly, thanks to the generous hearts and deep pockets of my girlfriends in the blogosphere, I am actually moving T-shirts. I think I’ve sold about 25 so far, and I only have around 85 more to sell. So seriously, please consider a T-shirt. It’s a guaranteed moment of happiness, I promise you. Mainly because who doesn’t love getting a package with clothing in it? You want one, you know you do.

Do you ever have days (weeks) when you  know your husband deserves better? When you know that a head cold shouldn’t keep you from doing dishes, or picking up toys, or trash, or laundry or pillows or–where was I? Right. Head cold.

Tomorrow is the science fair at school. Harrison (6), who is so completely related to me sometimes it’s scary, came up with a brilliant science fair project, all on his own. He wanted to make a volcano. One with a switch that you can turn on that will make the lava shoot out of the top. We ended up with something a little…less. He’s quite happy, and I managed to work the switch out of the equation.

(For the record, I made a volcano for my first science fair project, and there might have been a switch. That’s all I’m going to say about that right now.)

Forgive me for getting crass, but I can always tell who Rex has been hanging out with by the things he says. Since Christmas, I notice that he’ll pass gas, then look at me in this knowing way and say, “You know what that means!” Since I have heard my mother say this about five million times, yes, I know what it means. Rex obviously doesn’t, but he says it just the same.

And lastly, (because apparently my post about housework was too depressing to continue with) I am pleased to announce that June is 85% potty trained. That means that she only forgets to peep 15% of the time, and we are quite certain she will eventually stop pooping her pants.

Hope you have a great day, and if you haven’t already, BUY A T-SHIRT, SAVE A MARRIAGE. Wow, I should really get that one printed up…

Let me tell you, the biggest mistake I ever made was coming up with my Stupid Twilight T-shirts. Actually, that was only my second biggest mistake. My real biggest mistake was buying into them again. That’s right, once the first crop sold successfully, I decided to give it another whirl.

The whirl has been more like a nose dive, and at this point what I deserve is a swirly, one that takes place with my head in a toilet. Quite frankly, I’d rather do that than ever try to sell T-shirts again.

For some reason, the second crop of T-shirts has been sitting in the Quilted Bear for the past six months, stagnant as I try to pay down my rapidly accumulating monthly booth fee. I kept thinking that when the movie came out people would buy them. They didn’t. Well certainly, when Christmas came and I clearanced them people would buy them. Nope.

So here I sit with an entire box (and an entire bag) of unsold Stupid Twilight T-shirts, and every time I look at them I know Dave Ramsey would have my head if he knew that I’d even attempted such a stupid business scheme.

To make matters worse, payday came this afternoon and I had to dip into our emergency savings to clear my T-shirt debt. Ouch. Let’s just hope the car/washer/house doesn’t break in the next five months while I make a pitiful attempt to pay it back.

In case you aren’t feeling bad enough for me (although we all know I was the stupid head that got myself into this big fat mess), my husband is practically going blue in the face trying not to say, “I told you so.” In fact, he actually said to me this afternoon, “I’m not saying I told you so, but I did say that this was going to blow up in your face.” So glad he didn’t say it. What a saint.

So help me. Please, I’m seriously begging you right here, right now. If you send me $7 I will send you a very stupid (but actually kind of cute) Twilight T-shirt–that’s 70% off (and less money then I paid for them to begin with). I need to earn a couple hundred dollars and I’ve got a lot of shirts to sell here, people.

All the T-shirts are really good quality (I should have gone cheaper) Bella brand shirts, stretchy and long. I have S,M,L and XL. They retail for $24. I’m unloading as many as you can take for $7 a piece, free shipping. Really, this is a total charity drive for me, so I can pay back our much needed savings account and pacify my husband.

Here’s the brown and pink one. The “Team Jacob” graphics are a little different than this but equally cute.

I also have a white one with “All I want is a perfectly sculpted immortal who drinks blood and likes to bite. Is that too much to ask for?”, a “Team Edward Sorority” on white that’s stinkin’ cute, and my personal fave, “Twilight Girls Are HOT” on pink with black lettering. (I wear this one all the time.)

Please, save me. Buy a T-shirt from your old friend Annie, or at least tell the young women you know where they can get a killer deal on hip Twilight Tee.

Email me and we’ll work out the details. regardingannie at gmail dot com. Happy Pay Pal-ing.

How come my best stuff comes with so much pain? Seriously, I wrote this week’s column in a complete and total kidney stone haze, one draft, no edit, and I barely made my deadline. And yet, it’s so raw and so totally painful in the most delightful way–I hope I never have to read it (or write it) ever again.

Check it out here. And so far so good, the Coke and asparagus (two liters, not one) seem to have done the trick. I’ll let you  know if any more stones start to move.