The Secret to Success

Perfection

2010-07-14T08:00:00.000-05:00

I can't do anything perfectly.

When I paint rooms I get paint on the ceiling and baseboards, when I clean I always forget something, when I cook, it's never quite right, when I garden it's in the wrong place, when I sing it's always slightly off-key, when I write it's never exactly what I want to say, when I speak it's always meaner than I mean.

I tend to be touchy when it comes to criticism. I already know there's something off with everything I do, therefore I feel no need to be reminded of it. I shut down pretty quickly when that happens.

Now, if you want to get all psychological you could say that my belief that everything I do is wrong could be related to low self-esteem or self-hate.

I say that's bullshit. There's nothing really wrong with how I do things, I only said there's something not quite right.

I think it's a pretty common feeling. Everyone thinks that their meatloaf, chicken noodle soup (insert homestyle recipe here) isn't as good as their mohters, that their co-workers are smarter, their father is braver, their sisters are prettier, their brothers are stronger, that marriage is healthier, that design is more creative.

It's human nature to see your flaws more easily than those of others. My challenge to myself is to turn the flaws that I see into reminders of the things that I've done.

That small lavendar smear of paint in the corner of my bedroom ceiling - proof that I'm not afraid of color and don't need stupid blue tape to paint a wall.

Those white paint drips in the back of my kitchen cabinets - proof that I can sand, strip, and repaint my kitchen cabinets by myself in 3 months.

That rickety bedside table - proof I can put something together when the instructions don't come with it.

That really great spaghetti sauce recipe - proof that I don't need to cook better than anyone, I only need to cook things differently.

That stain in the back bedroom carpet - proof that the owner before me thought that white carpet was a great idea and who is, therefore, a couple crayons short of a 12 pack.

I'll never do anything perfectly, but I'll do it anyway.

Europe in May

2010-07-12T08:00:00.000-05:00

I've been having a bit of techno-hatred lately, so excuse the extended absence. I'll jump right in to the story.

My sister Meg did a study abroad program in Swansea, Wales starting in January. My youngest sister Myme and I decided to visit her in May. Our trip started on the 15th.

Myme drove from her small college town to my house and then I drove us to my parent's house in St. Louis, where we would be flying from. Myme and I got to the farm around 1 in the morning. We gave hugs and went to bed.

At 4 am we woke up and headed to the STL airport. We checked in, went through security, and waited for our first flight to Chicago. The plane left right on time at 7 and it was only a 45 minute hop to Chicago. The first bit of the trip was pretty uneventful, except for the Jesus freak who sat next to me.

He wouldn't shut up and kept spouting offensive things and calling people morons. I was trying to watch RuPaul's Drag Race on my iPhone but then he decided to make offensive comments about drag queens, lesbians, and Ellen Degeneres. I immediately told him about my love of drag queens and how fabulous they are. He then told me about his pregnant wife who left him over an unpaid insurance bill. She's now in Phoenix with her parents. Her parents think they need counciling but he thinks that only she needs it because she's the one with the problem, not him. I turned up the volume on my ear phones.

Myme felt a little air sick on the flight, which I am sure was only added to by the fact that them man in the seat across and up from her had an oozing open wound on his head about the size of a silver dollar.

We finally arrive in O'Hare and headed straight for the next gate for our flight over. It was a short 14 gates down. We had about 30 minutes before our flight so we went to get some food and then I assigned Myme with luggage watch while I went off in search of Dramamine and Mountain Dew. Dramamine for Myme and Mountain Dew for Meg, who apparently had no access to the delicious see-through beverage in the UK.

We got on the next plane and the flight there was good, but long. Myme pretty much conked out right away thanks to the dramamine. I was left with 6 - 7 hours of travel and no conversation. About 3 hours in I was stir-crazy. The food on the airplane wasn't as terrible as I had imagined. Myme wok up about 2 hours before we landed and as we were descending Myme's ears wouldn't pop, so her nose started to bleed. It was fabulous.

What, no, I've been here the whole time.

2010-06-11T12:00:00.001-05:00

I've been slacking/vacationing. I'm sure everyone missed me very much while I was away from Blog land. Well, I'm back with a slew of stories, I'll start with some of my travel notes. Hopefully not too boring.

See you soon!

On Making Friends

2010-04-29T12:00:00.000-05:00

So I've talked about my awkwardness with the younger generations. Lets talk about my awkward with people my age.

There's a reason that I have so many experiences with creeps, geeks, and the deranged. I'm a little bit of all of the above.

Since moving three years ago to a new town and a new job I've made exactly zero friends. The friends I tried to make (all two of them) were either grumpy and old or fired from work. There's a light at the end of this tunnel though. A couple of weeks ago I met a new girl at work. We started talking, she was funny, smart and had a lower lip piercing - my kind of chick, in a totally hetero way (oh who am I kidding, we're all a little bit gay, just like we're all a little bit racist).

Anyway, stepping away from the potentially offensive (told you I was awkward), this girl and I were talking, lets call her Aubry, and I was getting super excited at the prospect of a new friend. At one point I actually blurted out, "ohmigosh! We could totally be besties!"

Yeah, I then had to work on recovery. I went on to say that I'm not as creepy and weird as I seem and I get better with time.

Hopefully she'll take me up on my offer to hang out once she gets moved up here. Although on thinking about it, I probably said something like, "once you move up here let me know where you live so I can sit outside your house and watch you through binoculars" instead of "we should catch a movie sometime."

Oh well, I've still got CG. I've managed to somehow hypnotize him into staying with me. Sometimes I wonder why he's managed to stick around, then I remember he's a little bit creepy, geeky, and deranged too. We're meant for each other in a totally creepy way.

Black Holes and How I Cause Them

2010-04-27T12:00:00.003-05:00

I'm getting old. I think I've discussed this here before, as it terrifies me beyond belief. How is it possible to BE OLD at 25? I've managed it somehow. This, however, will not be a post about my fear of oldness (don't judge, it's t0tz a word). This will be a post about how I, as an old person, interact with young people.

I think I'm pretty awesome, pretty much all of the time. I may have a "fat day" or a "lazy slob day" on occasion, but self-esteem is not really a problem. I'm the coolest and most adorable friggin' fatty you'll ever meet and I know it. I'm also pretty sure that my family knows it too. I've got some really amazing young family members. Two younger sisters who are the epitome of awesome and several cousins so fabulous they're beyond description. My sisters and two of my male cousins I have a great relationship with, because I see them all the time.

The problem comes when I'm introduced to any of their friends/ boyfriends/ girlfriends/archenemies. I'm awkward. I make inappropriate comments. That's who I am. For some reason teenagers don't seem to like that. So far I have managed to keep the embarrassment that I inflict upon my younger family members to a minimum. There will come a time though when the epic-ness (don't judge that's also totally a word) of my brand of awkward will cause an embarrassment so large that a black hole will form out of the spontaneous combustion of my family member. This black hole will then suck so hard that it will pull everything in it's range into tiny atoms and particles then condense them into it's center. Creating a ball so dense and heavy that it enhances the gravitational pull of the black hole, thereby expanding it exponentially. Thus ending the world as we know it.

I'm unsure how to frame the blame on this particular event when it happens.

My youngest sister Myme is bringing a friend over to my house for the second Friday in a row. I managed to keep cool through the first visit, but this is just asking for trouble. If I inadvertently cause the end of the world, please excuse me, and blame Myme.

Flames . . . flames . . . on the side of my face

2010-04-19T12:00:00.001-05:00

As a child I was hot headed. Very, very hot headed. The kind of child who snapped quickly and violently. I can remember times when the smallest thing would set me off and my vision would blur and I would literally see red. A few minutes or hours later I'd remember what had happened.

I'm pretty non-confrontational now, probably as a result of the above and the terrifying thought that I could have really hurt someone.

There are still a few active hot buttons though. Things that make me so angry I'm barely rational.

1. Being hurt physically. Whether by accident or on purpose the one thing guaranteed to bring my crazy out is pain. So, if I stub my toe or you poke me just a little too hard take a few steps back and stay quiet for a couple of minutes. No sudden movements.

2. My fabulous sister Meg. I love the child like crazy; she's my best friend, my confidant, and I'd trust her with anything. However, she can push my button's harder and faster than anyone else on this planet. We're too much alike.

3. People whispering. If you don't want me to hear it get the fuck away from me. It's rude, unprofessional, and stupid. I don't care about your "secrets," I just care that you're a rude moron.

4. Backstabbers. Don't smile and compliment me if you're going to trash me as soon as I leave the room. I don't care if you don't like me, not everyone will. Just don't make me think you're a friend.

5. Dinging my car door on those stupid concrete thingies next to the gas pump. I'm pretty sure they're put there to make getting gas the most unpleasant thing on this planet. It's already smelly with sub-par facilities, why not make it a driving/parking hazard as well.

6. Bono. I don't know if it's his stupid glasses, his ridiculous hair or his smarmy-prick attitude. It's probably all three.

7. The fact that my adorable, but loud and excitable 9 year old cousin can catch fish after fish while screaming into the water, running like a loon, throwing rocks into the pond and not using bait. While I can sit out there quietly for hours with the best lures and not catch a damn thing.

8. People looking over my shoulder while I'm on the computer. Don't. Do. It.

9. That weird aftertaste that Coke leaves. It's like a stale leprechaun farted gently into my mouth.

10. Bad table manners. I am not the neatest person out there, I know this. Now, I'm not talking about elbows on the table or not putting your napkin in your lap. I'm talking chewing with your mouth full, making out with your utensil to get every last bit of food off of it, or mixing all your food into a big pile and eating it with a fork in one hand and a serving spoon in the other. Unacceptable.

Random Thoughts 1

2010-04-14T12:00:00.006-05:00

Heavy Breathers are the bane of existence, especially on a work conference call. I can almost feel them drooling on me. I always feel violated afterward.

People who give themselves "cool" middle names on Facebook make me want to stab them in the eye with a fork. Just because you want to be known as Kevin "Big Dick" Dalton does not mean that we'll call you anything other than your nickname from high school - aka: Kevin "Peed his pants during a football match" Dalton. You fail at cool. You fail at life.

Surviving the World - Spitting

True Story. Actual Fact.

When There's No One Around

2010-04-12T12:00:00.001-05:00

I live alone and enjoy it about 95% of the time. This is why.

1. I don't have to share the bathroom with anyone.

2. I don't have to make my bed.

3. I can make blanket forts in my living room and can leave them up as long as I want.

4. I can cut flowers from the yard without asking permission.

5. I can hula-hoop in my living room and not worry about breaking anything.

6. I can drink straight from the carton.

7. I can listen to 90's boy-band music and dance spasmodically in my living room without fear of embarrassment.

8. I have full remote control.

9. I can sit backwards on the couch with my head touching the floor and my feet in the air and pretend I live in an upside down land.

10. I can sing really loudly in the shower, or anywhere for that matter.

In short, always call before visiting. I could be dancing naked in my backyard in homage to the goddess of harvest or playing tag with my cats (they're really terrible at it).

Lord I was born a ramblin man . . .

2010-04-09T12:00:00.000-05:00

Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can.

Spring has sprung . . . and then retracted. It's been beautiful here in the crotch of the corn belt for the last few weeks. I planted and sewed my seeds and plants only to see frost this morning when I woke up. Tragic. I think most everything will make it through this cold snap but it was disappointing to dash out of bed this morning and straight to the thermostat to turn on the heat.

Anyway, I've been trying my hand at gardening. I want pretty flowers, a green lawn, and fresh fruit and veg. I'm just not sure how dedicated I'll be in July when the humidity sets in and I can't be outside for more than a few minutes without beads of sweat forming on my upper lip. Time will tell I suppose.

My self-synopsis is pretty spot on, I tend to begin everything with lots of energy and excitement only to get bored halfway through and abandon it to the pile of lost hobbies a few months later. I've never been good at follow-thru.

Knowing this, I made sure that most of my plants are easily maintained and annual. It's much easier to get invested in something when you know you'll have it next year and the year after. I'd much rather have things constant than have things fun.

I can't believe I've just made an entire post about gardening as a metaphore for my life. This is probably boring. I can't tell any more. It's my life so it all seems important, even the rose bushes and fairy lilies.

Things You Shouldn't Talk About

2010-04-01T12:00:00.003-05:00

I'm totally hitting a wall right now with this blog. There are tons of things going on but I have absolutely no desire to write them down. Basically I suck at life.

So I'm pushing past the pain long-distance runner style.

I've had some amazing opportunities with my job in the last few months, those of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook know and, I'm sure, are justifiably jealous.

Well yesterday was the be-all, end-all of epic work perks. I got to attend a luncheon for the Center for the Prevention of Abuse. It's a wonderful non-profit focused on helping those abused or raped move on and get away from their abuser.

It's a cause that is very close to my heart, something I wish I could be more involved in and maybe someday I will be.

Anyway, the key note speaker was Vice President Joe Biden. Those of you who know me IRL know that I'm a staunch Libertarian, I'm for individual freedom and not much else. I did, however, vote Obama in the last election. As a Libertarian who voted Obama I'm required by law to dislike about half of the things he and Biden have done while in office. As I'm not one for political debates I'll leave it at that.

However, Biden's speech was amazing, inspiring, and made me really like him. Honestly, the inappropriate things he's done in office (this is a BIG FUCKING DEAL) made me predisposed to like him immensely anyway. He also managed to say SOB and badass.

Someone has a new political crush!

Here's part of Biden's speech.

Anyway, this post is part PSA and part bragging about how awesome my life is.

The PSA part is the link. Domestic abuse and rape are the only crimes where the victim is put on trial. It's heartbreaking to know that not only are the victims put on trial, but the trial itself comes down to he said; she said. It's hard to convict, and therefore seems almost pointless to report. I don't know how to fix it, besides education, public understanding and awareness.

I'm really just in awe of how passionate Biden seems to be on this issue and am grateful that he didn't use this as a platform to talk about anything but the topic at hand.

Thanks for doing it right Vice President.

I knew you were crazy, just not THAT crazy.

2010-03-29T12:00:00.000-05:00

You know those families where everyone's out of their mind but they're your family so you love them? Mine's not like that. - The Wedding Date

Okay, so I do still love my family. I think they're totally great and couldn't adore each and every one of them more if I tried. But (and there's always a but, isn't there?), about 50% of them are THAT kind of crazy.

A history of mental illness that, if written out, would be taller than I am floods both sides of my family. Ranging from alcoholism and drug addiction to schizophrenia and dementia back down to just plain white-trash, beating the crap out of your significant other while wearing a tight white t-shirt a la Street Car and drinking Natural Light.

Yeah, I'm abusive, but look how cute I am!

CG finally got a real peak inside the honest to God crazy in the family this weekend. I'm sure it was eye opening. I kept warning him, trying to tell stories, to lessen the blow that was sure to come, but I don't think he really believed until this weekend.

I won't go fully into it because, well, yet again these aren't really my stories to tell but it involved an AK-47, a video camera, a hoarder, an abusive spouse, a serial cheater, and a control freak. No one was harmed or had the potential to be harmed but uncomfortable silence was had by all.

This is what I would call a good weekend, a fun weekend. I had an absolute blast. It was, after all, my 25th birthday and I got an extra $20 out of participating in the crazy with a positive attitude.

If you pay me enough I'll pretend your shit don't stink, your kind of crazy is perfectly normal, and that I am totally okay with whatever screwed up thing you're participating in. I'm basically an emotional whore, I'll react however you want, for a price. It's a system that works well in my family.

Honestly, money isn't the currency I'm usually paid in to go along with familial delusion. What I get out of it is peace and a relatively detached emotional state that keeps my mental health in good standing.

Crazy is much more fun when viewed from the outside.

Now to add a disclaimer: While everything said here is absolutely true, it's all said with a smile and love. For all of the crazy in my family it's also filled with more than it's fair share of love, understanding, good will and most importantly growth. They are (with one or two exceptions) good people with amazing life stories, harrowing experiences, and hope for the future and themselves.

My grandmother is a perfect example of this. My mother's mother is an absolutely amazing woman. She used to race stock cars and motorcycles, drives a Mustang and just a year ago had a stroke while riding bitch on the back of a Harley. She tapped her husband around the middle, got him to pull over, laid on the grass, had the stroke, got back on the bike and had him drive to the hospital. She's a total bad ass and while things in her life are far from perfect she handles herself with grace and humor and never takes anything too seriously, even death.

She told me on Saturday that while she was lying on the side of the highway during the stroke, sure that she was facing death she thought to herself, "Jeanie, calm down, you were doing something you loved, something that you enjoyed, it's a beautiful day and you're going on a day that was good." "Then, of course, I didn't die, I was ready and nothing happened!"

So even though I'm sure to descend into crazy as I get older I'll have fun doing it.

Happy St. Patty's Day!

2010-03-17T12:00:00.000-05:00

I've got no real excuse for a week long hiatus. I've been sick for the last 5 or so days, but honestly that gives me more time for long-winded writing, not less.

The main thing is that I don't have much to say. Things are going well, I'm getting more and more excited for up coming trip, and getting all my ducks in a row for the whirlwind that will be the next month and a half.

So Happy St. Patrick's Day and I'll try to think of something more entertaining for my next blog.

Ac-cen-tuate the Positive

2010-03-08T12:00:00.002-06:00

The last month has been pretty nasty for me. Lots of gross, sad things happening and it was all too easy for me to get lost in them and forget about the great things, the amazing things. Well my trip home this past weekend got me past a lot of that.

I'm not going to go into why I'm re-prioritizing because it's not my story to tell, but suffice it to say that the things that seemed so huge and scary just days ago have been made ludicrous. My problems are laughable and I've had a very good time the last two days doing just that.

So I've got some amazing, fantastic, unbelievably awesome news (at least for me). I mentioned earlier my possible trip across the pond to the U.K., it's now a total go. My middle sister, Meg, is already in Swansea doing a study abroad program at University. My youngest sister and I will be going over to see her on (or around) May 15.

This was all brought about by two fabulous ladies that have done more for us girls than anyone should, especially considering how terrible we are at keeping in contact with them. Our Fairy Godmothers have given us their hard won frequent flier miles.

Excuse me, I'm not sure if you heard me . . . WE'RE GOING TO FLY TO AND FROM LONDON FO' FREEZIE.

I'm going International bitches! It's Callie - the World Tour. I'm spending a week in England and Ireland with my fabulous sisters, doing fabulous things, seeing castles, going to the sea-side, and pretending to be posh.

I promise not to do a fake British accent, but I can't promise to stop being awesome.

I can feel the eye-rolls from you world travelers out there, but I'm pointedly ignoring you. I've never been farther than Canada and Mexico. I'm going to be taking a huge, international plane. I'm going to be jet-lagged. I'm going to see London, I'm going to meet the Queen (okay, maybe I'll just be a creep and tour her palace - OMG I'm going to be in a palace!!!), I'm going to make faces at the palace guard, I'm going to visit places where Jane Austin lived, I'm going to drink myself silly in an Irish pub, I'm going to get my picture taken on the bridge where The Quiet Man was filmed, I'm going to meet a handsome Irishman and have a torrid affair that will end after a drunken kiss when Meg pulls me off and reminds me about CG. I will then try to set up Meg with said Irishman because she needs to have little Irish-brogue-speaking babies.

Meanwhile, my youngest sister, Myme, will be singing Danny Boy with the best of them and will be asked to stay in Ireland to attend University there on a vocal scholarship and get her law degree in Dublin or some equally charming local.

Okay so the last bit, after the bridge from The Quiet Man will most likely not happen, but it's my dream sequence and I'll end it how I want.

So if any of you are "world travelers" yourself, hell, if you've ever looked through a book about England and thought, "well that would be neat to see" please feel free to give advice, or tell me about places of interest, things to do, foods to eat, beer to drink, or places to stay.

Thanks and YAY ME!!!!

$13.98

2010-03-03T12:00:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago I found an absolute deal. A new shampoo and conditioner had just come out and there was a rebate attached to it - for the full amount of purchase. I happily picked the set up, dutifully filled in the forms, put on a stamp and sent it off. Today I got a check for $13.98 in the mail.

I'm so excited to cash my check. I'm so savvy! LMAO.

Talk about It

2010-03-02T12:00:00.002-06:00

Not much from me today, just a link to blog post I think is worth reading, is worth knowing about.

Thailand Coup

Broken Hearts

2010-03-01T12:00:00.000-06:00

When I was young, 6 or 7 I think, I had an acid wash jean jacket. I loved that thing. It had large purple hearts sewn on it and across the back stitched into two intertwining hearts was the phrase, "Heartbreakers Club" The collar and cuffs of the jacket were that springy cloth, almost like sweatbands. I wore it everywhere, even made up a secret club for the jacket, one that no one but me was allowed into. I bragged about how exclusive my club was and everyone wanted to borrow my jacket.

I was wayyy to cool. *eye roll*

I can't remember what happened to the jacket, I'm sure I out grew it pretty quickly and it was soon donated to the church. It's funny the things you treasure as a child, the things that make you cool to other kids.

It's much harder, damn near impossible to get that same joy as an adult, or to be cool in your 20's. I mean, I manage to do it, but I'm sure for others it's difficult.

I used to wear my heart on my sleeve, physically and metaphorically. Now I just do it metaphorically. It's just as easy to be hurt now as it was then. Somethings even years can't teach I guess.

Then

2010-02-26T12:00:00.000-06:00

CG and my two year anniversary is this Sunday, well technically it's February 29th, but since that day won't come around for another two years we just get as close to it as we can.

It's pretty impressive I think. Two years is a long-ass time, like, really long. Supposedly the "spark" (or whatever kids are calling it these days *takes off old lady cap*) starts to fade after the first year.

It still feels like our second date to me, except I'm not nearly so uncomfortable about the cleanliness of my house or worried about the last time I combed my hair.

Anyway, two years is a huge deal for me. I've never been any good at maintaining any type of relationship, whether it be boyfriend, friend, job contacts, etc. It just seems to take more effort than I'm willing to devote to it.

To put it another way, I have officially devoted two years of my life to the upkeep and health of a relationship without regret AND without screwing it up beyond repair.

So yay me! And thank you CG for your unending amounts of quiet understanding, doofy humor, strength, sweetness, and for just sitting quietly with me when I'm sure you'd rather be actually doing something.

I try not to end my posts on too sweet or depressing a note so in closing I guess I'll provide one of my most favorite de-motivators.

Things I've Forgotten

2010-02-22T12:00:00.001-06:00

My brain is a funny thing, a scary, funny thing. Sometimes thoughts fly through it so fast that even I have no idea what I'm thinking. I catch the tail end of a thought only to wonder moments later when my brain has slowed, "why would a fuzzy elephant dance the cha cha slide in 7 inch heels made to look like Frank Sinatra's spats from Guys and Dolls?"

I don't know.

I'm not sure where this entry is going.

I'm rarely sure of anything. So lets just get started.

I forget things a lot, to the point where I almost feel the need to talk a doctor about it. Everyone has those days where they get home from work and don't remember 90% of their drive home. But whole chunks of memory tend to fall right out of my head.

I can't remember what I ate for dinner last night, the events of my day tend to get jumbled in my head and I can't remember the correct order for most of the things I've done or said. If someone asks how my day was I'll smile, say just fine and go on. Please don't ask for specifics though, I don't remember them.

I'm terrible with names, I'm terrible with faces, I'm terrible with voices. In fact, the more I like someone, the harder it is for me to picture their face. It took a good two months of actively concentrating on CG's face for me to commit it to any kind of memory and even now, the only reason I know that his eyes are brown is because I've forced myself to pay attention to them a couple of weeks ago.

I just don't see things. I may stare at something for hours and have no idea what I'm looking at.

There are a few things lately that have brought this into harsh reality. I was going through my jewelry tub (yes, a jewelry tub and yes pretty much everything is tangled and tarnished) and found my Han Solo illegally modified blaster pistol necklace and a tiny silver owl pendant necklace. How could I have forgotten about either of these finds!? I mean, the first is a fucking Star Wars necklace and the second, how could I forget that tiny adorable owl? I absolutely love owls. They're my favorite animals, in fact, I used to collect the cotton filled toys at any and all wildlife parks I went to.

I had forgotten my favorite animal. How is that possible, especially with all the Harry Potter hype, Hedwig - hello.

The next was even more frustrating and upsetting, although not as unusual as forgetting about your favorite animal. I lost a ring, lots of people lose jewelry, especially rings, it's easy to do. I, however, almost never lose jewelry, it's one of the few things I can manage to keep hold of in my life. My tendancy is to lose the pieces that are the most important to me. My great-grandmother's ring and pendant set with the birthstones of her 5 children disappeard from my car 6 years ago. The ring this weekend was from CG, totally beautiful and wonderfully large and sparkly, I wear it everywhere and don't give a tiny dead baby rat's ass if it doesn't match what I'm wearing. Sometime during the day it completely disappeared. I don't remember taking it off, I don't remember snagging it on anything, I don't remember seeing it or not seeing it for most of the day. Just gone. Very frustrating.

The last was Sunday night as I was trying to sleep. I finally calm my thoughts around 10 at night only to pop back up wide awake at 10:05 anxiously worrying about the little girl that my parents were babysitting over the weekend. I went back over the day and couldn't remember seeing her after church let out that morning. She was no where in my head. I knew that she had to have been with my parents and that she was perfectly fine. But I could not calm down or stop worrying about her until I could remember. I finally broke down and called my mother at 10:30 at night to ask her where the little girl had been after we got home from church. She was asleep on the couch the entire time. As soon as she said it I remembered and was able to sleep.

It's scary and weird. I'm also very sure that it's a sign that I'm going to lose my mind in my early thirties. Something to look forward to I suppose.

Love and Marriage

2010-02-17T12:00:00.001-06:00

So, this book came out on the 4th of this month:

Yeah, I haven't read it and in all honesty I have absolutely no plans to, no matter how good Oprah's magazine says it is. I've read Ms. Gottlieb's article about this self-same subject, also desperately entitled: Marry Him.

Go ahead, read the article, I'll wait.

So, you've read it right? Now, I'm not married, have no finite plans for marriage, I have no children, no plans for children, and I'm most certainly not in my 40's, or even 30's. My frame of reference will obviously be skewed.

However, what I am is a woman with no legal commitments besides student loans and my mortgage, living alone, working in corporate America, and doing a pretty fucking awesome job at living my life the way I want.

Surprisingly, I agree with Ms. Gottlieb's underlying point in this article. However, I disagree with almost everything that she's trying to convince us 20-somethings to do. I don't disagree with the point that she inadvertently makes.

That point being that there's no such thing as Mr. Perfect, don't hold on to childhood fantasies of marriage, men, and babies. They aren't real. That my friend, is sound fucking advice. I couldn't agree more, women who go into relationships full of hopes and dreams and idealizations tend to leave those relationships bitter and disillusioned. Living in a dream world and having unattainable goals tends to do that to people.

However, the tone and meaning of the article is complete bullshit. At one point she advocates marrying your gay friend because you'll at least have someone with you, and besides, "how many long- married couples are having much sex anyway?" Apparently physical attraction is not required at all, in fact it's perfectly okay to be physically repulsed by your husband: "if you get a cold shiver down your spine at the thought of embracing a certain guy, but you enjoy his company more than anyone else’s, is that settling or making an adult compromise?"

In fact, it doesn't matter if you can't stand the sight of him:

"The couples my friend and I saw at the park that summer were enviable but not because they seemed so in love—they were enviable because the husbands played with the kids for 20 minutes so their wives could eat lunch.In practice, my married friends with kids don’t spend that much time with their husbands anyway (between work and child care), and in many cases, their biggest complaint seems to be that they never see each other. So if you rarely see your husband—but he’s a decent guy who takes out the trash and sets up the baby gear, and he provides a second income that allows you to spend time with your child instead of working 60 hours a week to support a family on your own—how much does it matter whether the guy you marry is The One?"

So, as long as he'll make a good baby daddy marry him. Marry him now, before you get old, wrinkly, and you're eggs start shriveling!! Yay for feminism?!? I mean, logically I know that women have a set amount of time, eggs, and grace under pressure when it comes to children. But being so desperate for a family that you marry someone you not only don't love, but who actually makes you shudder at the mere thought of him touching you? That seems excessive and seriously fucked up.

So, I guess my admittedly inexperienced opinion is: be realistic but don't settle. I mean, am I the unrealistic one here? I had, in the past, been quite proud of myself for realizing that sparks fizzle, heat cools, and steady and dependable are two of the best qualities that a man can posses. I still dumped men who I didn't find attractive, never kissed anyone who physically repulsed me, and have no regrets in ending any of my previous relationships. Maybe I have regrets about the way I ended things, but I never thought twice about the reasons.

They all seemed and continue to seem valid and purposeful at the time. There are three men who I've dated and also dumped who fell into the awesome guy, but not for me category. They were all funny, smart, endearing, dependable, tall, and good tempered. All of them would (and in one case does) make wonderful fathers and husbands. But the amount of chemistry that was generated in these relationships would take the last place ribbon in a grade school science fair contest.

No matter how little you see your husband, or how great he is with children, there's got to be something there. Something that holds you together while the kids are away at camp, when you're on vacation, when the kids move out, when you retire. I'm not saying that loveless marriages don't work, I know that they can, but that'll never be what I want.

Now, back to the book. From the few reviews I have read it looks like Gottlieb has toned down the "marry your gay best friend thing" and the "it's awesome to marry, have sex with, and then have babies with someone who physically repulses you." So who knows, this book may be worth reading because I do agree with her points about fairy-tale romance and the perfect man.

Her article is still total bullshit though.

Having Goals . . . maybe

2010-02-15T12:00:00.001-06:00

So, my whole Katie the Dog fiasco is turning a bit hopeful. I took the monster home last weekend to my hometown vet and we decided to give her a month to heal by herself. The Vet doesn't believe it's as serious as the ER vet did. So we've got her on some anti-inflammatory and stuck in her cage for about 22 hours a day. I feel terrible, but a little discomfort for a month is totally worth it if she doesn't have to have invasive surgery.

Dog drama down to a minimum *thumbs up*

I also got my hair cut this weekend - that's one goal for 2010 down. LMAO

I'm still working on the travel thing. Since we aren't sure yet if Katie is going to need surgery in a month or not I'm in a holding pattern right now. If she needs the surgery I won't be going anywhere for a while, if not then I'll get to fulfill one of my goals for the year. I just have to get my ass in gear and get my friggin' passport. *goes to google search local locations*

In other news, I had a wonderful Valentines weekend, which included a nicely violent hockey game with box seats and a delicious Budweiser beer, and a taco bake casserole with cheapish pink champagne. I'm the fucking classiest broad EVAR. I also got my ass kicked by Current Guy at basically every Wii Sports game. Tragic.

V-Day

2010-02-12T12:00:00.000-06:00

Happy Valentines Day to those of you who enjoy it. I have a feeling that I've discussed this before, but it was probably before I made the blog a little more PC and a little less personal. I've deleted an excessively large number of posts to make this a bit more relative and friend friendly.

I've always enjoyed Valentines Day. My parents got married on February 14th, not very original, I know, but it does make for an immediate love for the holiday. I have another reason for my devotion to the holiday. Dad would always get us girls a separate card and stuffed animal just from him. The card was always the best part. Dad's really good at the card thing, he always found the perfect card for us and it almost always made me cry. As we grew up and moved out the cards just from Dad stopped, which is fine and understandable, but the memory of Dad coming in early on February 14th, sometimes waking us up at 4 or 5 in the morning just before he headed in to work to give me my gift is something that I will always remember and always treasure.

/goopy love junk

For those of you who think Valentines Day is a Hallmark Holiday of the first water, have a wonderful weekend and think of all that delicious discount candy you can get on the 15th. Someone has to eat the chocolate out of those unloved heart shaped boxes, you don't want them to feel left out do you? Do you?

People I Love

2010-02-11T12:00:00.001-06:00

So, I'm taking this opportunity to do a shout out for no other reason than I want to and I can.

First: My funny and talented friend Shannon is the author of a Sweet Valley blog and has recently been approached by not only the publisher for Francine's latest book for a possible review, but has also been mentioned AND linked in Entertainment Weekly for her blog. I just want to take this opportunity to congratulate her again and point people who may not have seen her blog yet, her way. She also has a blog on the Gilmore Girls if that runs more to your taste.

She hasn't updated lately on the SVH blog, as she's finished the high school series and is taking a MUCH needed break before starting back up on the Senior High series, but she will be back soon.

I have to say, even if you aren't into either series her blog is still funny as hell to read, so just do it. Be one of the few who will be able to look back and say, "you know, I knew her before she was on the cover of Publishers Weekly."

Second: NTKOG - I'm shamelessly trying to get myself a fabulous iPod fo' free and am ridiculously impressed with her ability to dance horribly. I myself am a terrible dancer and take much joy in embarrassing myself at family gatherings by wiggling my ass or doing the white man's overbite. I had hoped to find a picture of myself doing those things but have been unable too. It's a shame really, as I know they're out there. So here's my plug, now go out and sign yourself up to win that iPod and stick around to read at least a few of her posts: the girl has serious guts.

I will say that if anyone who wins the iPod was directed to do so from my site I expect some sort of repayment.

Third: Children of the 90's - is also having a bit of a giveaway and since I'm feeling pretty fucking generous today I'll turn you on to that one as well. Feel blessed. Again, if you win through a link of mine I expect some repayment, in the form of Lisa Frank stickers this time. You can totally keep the magic eye book, I never see anything in those damn things.

Fourth: The One with All the Snark - just found this blog and I think it's fabby. At one point I had thought about starting a Friends blog up myself, but I tend to turn things personal without meaning to, so I'd be no good with a structured blog about anything but me. I'm vain and self-centered that way.

Fifth: You guys know I love a good list, I make them a lot, obviously. So in honor of that: List Addicts, who doesn't like structure and organization of thoughts, ideas, goals, and plans? No one that's who. This blog is awesome.

Alright, I think I'm done now. See ya'll tomorrow with my Valentines post.

Chronically Happy

2010-02-10T12:00:00.001-06:00

This has nothing to do with pot, just so you know.

I have a brand-new pet peeve. People who are either obviously faking their happy or people who seem so disgustingly happy all the time that you know they have to go home and manually unscrew their smile.

I've recently come into contact with a woman who is so perky, so peppy, so happy that she makes me look like Tim Burton. That's saying something people. I'm a naturally good tempered person. I smile through about 80% of my day, have a very pleasant "office personality" and try to not let my foul moods show up on my face when they occur.

I am, however, human. Sometimes I can't muster up the energy to get my smile to my eyes or force a cheerful "hello" yell down the hallway to people as they pass. I leave people alone if they're outside of my designated zone of greeting. I pass people on the sidewalk and feel no need to greet each one with a cheerful hello.

This woman is obviously not human. Her smile is permaglued big and broad to her face, her voice is always booming, and if she passes within 100 yards of a living being she absolutely must know how you are doing and what you think of the weather.

I can't help it, seeing her smile makes mine go visibly dimmer.

So Weird

2010-02-04T12:00:00.000-06:00

Sorry, there's no Fi here, or her crazy (apparently incest having) mother Mackenzie Phillips - too soon?!?

Seriously, that whole drama just terrifies and disgusts the crap out of me, poor Mac! So Weird was a completely epic television show though, I miss it.

/random blog-jack

Anyway, on to the original point of my post: Babies and the people who have them. A college friend just had her second. In fact a good portion of my friends and family have been popping them out left and right. I love babies, which probably comes as a shock to anyone who knew me in high school as I hated all children with a vengeance usually reserved for people who club baby seals.

As my cousins and friends start their families I do get that little tug from the center of my stomach, that want/need to make one of these myself. That "I need a baby" fever.

However, once that fog clears I just keep thinking that these people are my age or younger. How are they ready for kids? They're so young with so many other things that they could be experiencing sans all the kiddy crap they're now forced to tote around. I still feel so young, I know as a 17 year old I thought 24 was just about as old as you can get, but now, now I just feel like there's so much that I don't know.

I'm not in a place in my life where I'm even remotely ready for children, how can other women my age be? I see pictures of babies in incubators fresh from mommy's womb and wonder how they can be so ready.

I guess what I'm saying is that I love babies and one day I'd really like to have one of my own, but I don't understand how to be an adult, much less a parent. I still dance around my living room, build forts out of blankets, eat fudge-cicles, make snow angels, and I never make my bed. I think I'm way to childish to have a child of my own and I don't think I'll ever really grow up.

I still see the 12 year old with a tight ponytail, who reads smutty books under the covers late at night and locks herself in her room when she's angry. My mom had me when she was 23, did she still feel like a kid? Do I really have to grow up at some point and will I do it without even realizing it?

Technical Difficulties

2010-02-02T12:00:00.000-06:00

I'm having them. I don't have time to deal with them, so I just switched some things up. Thanks for understanding!

Mad-Eye Moody Monday

2010-02-01T12:00:00.000-06:00

Now for a teeny bit of whining. My poor dog has a torn muscle in her knee and has to go in for surgery to get it repaired! Poor Kate, I was a total wreck and cried at the vets office when he told me, not cool, not cool at all. So I've been busy spoiling her all weekend to make up for the fact that I'm a terrible pet owner. She's going to be a holy terror by the time she's completely healed.

I'm taking her to my parents country vet for a second opinion (and hopefully a cheaper price on surgery, that makes me a terrible person doesn't it?) this coming weekend. So I'm going to be a nervous wreck until this whole thing is over. I've chewed off all my finger nails, started twisting my hair, and can't sit still, it's mostly stuff that people wouldn't notice right off so I'm getting through most everything without letting on how worried and upset I am.

After all, Katie is just a dog, she's young, strong, and incredibly active so things will be fine she'll heal up just great and things will be better than before. *turns off auto-play on voice recorder*

Knowing logically that things should be fine doesn't make things fine in my head. Surgery is scary, anesthesia is scary, and waiting patiently is fucking hard. I'm good at these kinds of things from the outside, mostly because I completely and totally hide my feelings when I want/need to.

Just give me a half hour to myself to ball my eyes out and you'd never know how upset I am afterward. Only the small things give away what a wreck I am and I don't know of anyone who knows me well enough to recognize them.

Anyway, it seems like I'm making an awfully big deal for a very small, relatively safe procedure. All they're doing is going in and repairing/replacing a muscle in Katie's left knee, easy peasy.

Just something weird about me, I guess. I don't handle the people (or animals) in my life in pain very well, especially when there's absolutely nothing I can to actively help them recover.

The Best Laid Plans

2010-01-25T12:00:00.001-06:00

It's officially the new year and we're almost a month into it. What am I going to do with my year, this fresh new thing that's just beginning.

Honestly, I probably won't do a whole lot. I've never been one of those people who has a "to do" list for certain ages. I've never assigned ages to any of my goals. Which may be why I still haven't manged to meet them. Something to think about I suppose.

I've got a few irons in the fire and a few things I'd like to get done, improvements I'd like to make. I'll be 25 in just 2 months, that's a big number, an important number.

So here are a few of the things that, if I don't do this year I may never to do.

I want to travel overseas. My sister is in Europe right now living the high life with a bunch of French guys. I'm super fucking jealous/proud. She's taking chances and really experiencing life. I want to visit her and take a trip to Ireland.

I want to get re-involved with my community. My move here (almost) three years ago has killed my drive, my desire to help. I'd like to get it back and now is as good a time as any.

Cut my hair at some point this year. Seriously, I haven't been to a hairdresser since, like August. My hair is getting out of control.

Happy New Year (2 Weeks Late)

2010-01-15T12:00:00.001-06:00

So we leave Nashville and begin another 7 hour trip to our final destination, a cabin on the Smokey Mountains. CG continues to drive, I feel a little bad, but not bad enough to volunteer for the position. Meg plays more college rock, Myme and I play more Pokemon (I forgot how addictive that game is and I'm only a little ashamed of how much I enjoy it).

We get there and it's really just beautiful, the cabin is big and everything that could be made of wood was. There's a hot tub and a Foosball table, a lake and a gorgeous view. Honestly, I spend half of trip sick in bed, getting up occasionally to play pinochle or rummy or cuddle next to CG feeling sorry for myself. The other half was spent reading, playing more pinochle and rummy, and then going to a cave our last day there.

I know, I know, I was in the mountains I should have hiked, explored, seen the sites. You're right of course, but two things prevented that - 1. There were snow storms in the surrounding areas that closed pretty much everything and 2. I'm lazy and like to lay around doing nothing on my vacation. Don't judge me.

On the 30th some of Mom's friends from Alabama came over with REALLY good Mexican beer and nachos. I like Mom's friends a lot.

New Years Eve a few of us went out to dig up fireworks since FES is from Germany and they always do fireworks for the new year. They managed to find some and came home. That night Dad and Meg set them off, but they were nothing in comparison to our next door neighbors. These guys were drunk and had explosives the size that a small town would buy for the 4th of July. They were nicely drunk and still managed to get a few aimed right and when that happened the display was beautiful. However, I'd say at least 40% ended up hitting their deck, our deck, our house, other houses, or a person. The next day we found our vacation agreement with the people we rented the house from, it explicitly said no fireworks - woops.

So that last full day at the cabin CG, Dad, Grandpa, Meg, and I squeeze into a car, and head down the mountain to a cavern, one of the few things that remained open and snow free. I adore caves, seriously, I'll drive hours to walk around in one. First glance this thing looked shady and we weren't sure it would be worth it. We went anyway, and it was totally worth it.

The caverns were beautiful and our tour guide was epic. He was the most useless human being I've ever met in my life, he ruined the endings to 3 movies, talked about his girlfriend's 25 pound 16 month baby, showed us parts of the cave that looked like sexual organs (Grandpa was RIGHT THERE), and was just generally the negative southern stereo type that I know to be false for the bulk of the population. He provided wonderful conversation for the ride home until Dad was pulled over and given a speeding ticket by a county mounty. Then we talked about that.

Our trip home was much the same, CG driving, Meg and her music, Myme and I reading Dean Koontz and Laurel Hamilton respectively (don't judge us, it's vacation we can read trash if we want).

After Christmas Special

2010-01-13T12:00:00.000-06:00

So the day after Christmas we left for our big trip to Tennesse and the beautiful Smokey Mountains. We took two cars down, with 8 people, we kind of had to. My parents, grandpa, FES, CG, and my sisters and I fill up a car pretty fast, and that's without suitcases.

CG managed to get stuck with driving my car. Since the man is 6'6 on a short day and shaped like a capital T, it was really an act of mercy, he would have been very unhappy in the back with his chin on his knees and his shoulders shoved into the person next to him. Meg got the passenger seat as she's a very vomit-y type of girl. Me and Myme took the back. That left Dad to drive the other car, with FES riding shotgun since she gets sick on car trips as well, and Mom and Granddad in the back.

We definitely had the cool car, our 7 hour trip consisted mostly of Meg playing angry college music and Myme and I playing Pokemon on my Gameboy Color (with Pikachu emblazoned on the front screen) and SP respectively - shout out to the old school homies.

We headed to Nashville first to stay at the Opry Hotel, which is super-duper fabulous. It's an indoor botanical garden of awesome. We had good pizza, got a little grumpy, and went back to our rooms where I watched a show about some very cute beavers (get your mind out of the gutter, these were for-real beavers) and wanted to watch a show about an exploding wale in Japan but couldn't because my sisters wanted to sleep (jerks).

Mea Culpa

2010-01-11T12:00:00.002-06:00

So, I went back to the family farm for Christmas like I do every year. It was super fantastic, no fights, very little yelling, and lots of great watery smiles. We went to my Dad's family Christmas on Christmas Eve where we got to see my aunt's new boobs for the first time. They were very nice looking, although I couldn't look at them straight on, staring at a family member's boobs is like looking at an eclipse, they should never be viewed full on.

A fabby time was had by all, although I have to admit I was a little sad that we didn't make it to the Christmas light display in the city this year. We did, however, find a ridiculously decorated house a few blocks from church after Christmas Eve services.

To derail wildly from the original topic: I'm not a huge fan of my parents church, just a lot of personal issues: the new pastor is kind of an ass. He decided that the church needed one of those swinging incense thingies that Catholics have (my family is Missouri-Synod Lutheran). The first time he used it he accidentally smoked the entire congregation - none of them were very forgiving and when he overloaded it a bit the next service you could feel the eye rolling going on. A guy I've spoken to maybe twice since he started coming tapped me on the shoulder and told me loudly during the sermon how ridiculous it was. Lutherans DO NOT talk or make noise during service (which is why I was always a terrible member).

This is probably not amusing to anyone else, but I giggle a bit every time I think of that 20 something pompous wind-bag choking on his own incense. I'm obviously a terrible person.

Okay, back on track: Christmas day was great, lots of good fun that is funny and all that. I got Dad an MP3 player already loaded with songs, however, once it was plugged into my sisters laptop to play on speakers it automatically downloaded her songs and deleted mine. So now Dad has the Spice Girls and other pop music phenoms from the 90's. He's a little less than thrilled about that.

Our big gift was the trip to the mountains that we left for the following day.

WTH!?!

2010-01-05T12:00:00.000-06:00

I got an award! *shocked face*

Here are the rules that came with the award:

1) Thank the person who nominated me for this award.
2) Copy the award & place it on my blog.
3) Link to the person who nominated me for this award.
4) Tell us 7 interesting things about yourself.
5) Nominate 7 bloggers.
6) Post links to the 7 blogs I nominate.

My Blog was nominated by a wonderfully talented woman who I have a total girl-crush on: Shannon of SVH and Gilmore Girls blog fame. If you don't already have her favorited please immediately do so.

Interesting things about me:

1. My mother and grandmother used to make all of my clothes, doll clothes, and barbie clothes. We were all extremely well dressed and 80's-erific
2. I am the oldest of three girls, the youngest just started college. I love them both more than life.
3. I'm AWESOME at hula-hooping with my neck.
4. I hate anything that has to do with wrists, being dirty, or feet. I get physically ill when thinking about any of those things.
5. I love video games and think of myself as a gamer, but I know I'm not really dedicated enough to hold that title.
6. I play Brain Age on my DS every night before bed and I still have the brain age of a 60 year old.
7. I run hot and cold in almost all aspects of my life. The things I love can quickly turn into things I barely tolerate.

The Seven Bloggers I nominate are:

1.Call Me Freckles - She has great taste, a wonderful way with words and her recaps of the Vampire Diaries, which though I've never watched (I don't have television) sounds awesomely trashy.

2.Not That Kind of Girl - I'm completely addicted to her writing style and her blog concept. I haven't worked up the nerve to comment on her blog yet because I'm totally in awe of her, this is as good an excuse as any.

3.The Art of Being Blunt - She's a very good friend of mine and too funny, talented, and beautiful for words, please check her out, she's just getting started.

4.Get a Pencil and Your Case Book - I've been a fan of Sadako since I started reading blogs. She's got a gift for snark, a gift that she uses wisely.

5.30 is the new 13 - I know she's already gotten this award, but I want to link her blog anyway. She blogs about stories that she and others have written from their childhood. As a former childhood writer myself I can appreciate how ridiculous and funny the whole thing is.

6.KateC Says - Another good friend of mine. She writes a wonderful advice blog and is open, honest, and full of wisdom. She's also got a way with words and an astonishing ability to hear the most outlandish, embarrassing story and make you feel totally normal and accepted.

7. . . . in the Attic - I'm also nominating her in hopes of a future post soon. I wasn't allowed to read V.C. Andrews as a kid (I know, how prudish of my mother!) her recaps have helped me to realize why.

I think that's it, I guess.

Oh also, I'm back from my trip, and hope to have some decent posts up soon.

Friends and Christmas

2009-12-22T12:00:00.000-06:00

Now if any party should be fun it should be a party with your friends.

This is the first mistake that amateurs make when invited to a Christmas party by friends.

There are a few important tings that you should consider before accepting that invitation:

How long has it been since I've seen these friends?
- If it's been a few days to a month give yourself a point proceed to the next section.
- If it's been a month to a year think this out a bit more. Did you really like these people to begin with? That's a long time to not see someone, there's probably a reason. That reason probably includes awkwardness, satellite friends who will be in attendance and think that sexual harassment is an acceptable form of human interaction, or exes. No points awarded.
- If it's been longer than a year there isn't much to think about. Think of all the time you'll have to spend catching up, feigning interest in their lives. How much they've changed, how much you've changed. The empathetic glances you'll be bestowed with if you attend alone, the jealous glares you'll receive if you bring a date along. Go if you must but be prepared for awkward silences and bring alcohol. Congrats, you're in the negative point brackets and you've only just begun! Minus 1

How far away are they?
- If they're less than 15 minutes away give yourself a point and proceed to the next question. No travel time and if the party sucks you can sneak out and be home and in your comfy flannels in no time at all.
- If they're 15 minutes to an hour away that's a little trickier. It is winter after all. If it snows or ices heavily are you really okay with spending the night with these people? Sleeping in a house full of drunken party goers is never a good idea, no matter how passed out you *think* they are. No points awarded
- If it's more than an hour you cannot drink at all. You also may need to spend the night at said friends house (see above for problems with that), at a motel ($$), or in your car (fail). Minus 1 point.

Finally: How good a friend are they?
- If they're the best friend you've ever had, you've known them for years, you're their children's Godparent, and you KNOW they'd be there for you, of course, it's no contest, you should go no matter what. Plus 5 points
- If they're your good friend, you went to college together, always had a laugh, played wingman for each other, roomed together, let you cry on their shoulder when you didn't make the high school play. Sure, think about it, but also take into account any aforementioned satellite friends who will also be in attendance. You may have to put up with some real bitches to get a few minutes with a decent conversationalist. Plus 3 points
- You ARE the satellite friend. Don't be that guy, just don't. Minus 4

If you have 4 or more points go, if you have less don't. It's that simple.

"Friends" You'll See at the Party
Marriage Marge: Yes, I'm happily married with 2.5 kids, a golden retriever and a calico cat and I want to show you pictures for at least two hours.

Fratboy Frank: Hells to the fucking yes I'm still drunk from last night. Hell I'm still drunk from last week. Why would I want to stop living the college dream. I may be 32, but I party like a Freshman bitch!

Old Oliver: I know I shouldn't really be here, but I came with Frank, he's my roommate. I know I'm about 10 years older than everyone else at the party and completely out of place with no friends, but I had nothing else to do with my time and my walls kept threatening to eat me.

Topless Tara: I used to be so wild in college, showing my tits to everyone, but they were so fantastic, how could I not? I may be married with small children but I'll still pop 'em out if you'd like.

and the ever popular:

Debbie Downer: Life in school sucked, life out of school sucked, everything sucks. I hate you for everything you have and I don't. Now I will cling to you mercilessly and tell you all my sad stories. I'll probably snot on your shirt.

What I'm really trying to say here is that you should all stay home and become hermits like me. It's warm and cozy in hermit land. Join me.

Family Christmas Parties

2009-12-18T12:00:00.001-06:00

Let's discuss Family Christmas first.

If you have a small family, a Family Christmas (yes both words MUST be capitalized) may not terrify you the way it does me. If you are one of the lucky few with 10 or less people in your family in three generations . . . well, I hate you, I guess.

For the rest of us here's what we have to look forward to:

- As many as 4 or 5 Family Christmas
- Travel on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day
- Fights
- Double booking parties
- Fights about double bookings
- Awkward gift exchanges
- Sharing
- Aunts who smell and want hugs
- Lipstick prints from aforementioned aunts
- Offensive jokes from uncles
- Cousins you hate
- Fights
- Christmas Mass with the entire family

Here are the unspoken rules for the many family gatherings you'll have during Christmas:

1. DO NOT under any circumstances mention any of the following:

your uncle's recent trip to the Betty,

your great aunts funeral and who did and did not show up

your younger cousin's possible mental illness and/or serial killer in-the-making tendencies

the recent release of your grandfather from prison and the "new friends" he made while there

the current living arrangements for half of your family

the money that your older brother owes you from that drug deal that went south on him two years ago

your mother's latest and greatest nervous breakdown

2. DO NOT comment on a new photo, painting, statuary unless you are prepared to listen to a story that goes on for 30 minutes and provides nothing of value or interest.

3. Just give in and play Carrom, Super Smash Bros, Slap Jack, or Catch Phrase with your younger cousins. You know you'll have to at some point, just remember to protect your knuckles in Carrom, shield your face if you win at Smash, wear gloves during Slap Jack, and keep it clean in Catch Phrase

4. Have some pie, even if you don't like it, you have to have at least one piece unless you want your Great Aunt Mona to cry, do you want her to cry, why do you hate her pie, WHY DO YOU HATE HER?????

5. Fall asleep early and often on the nearest couch. Yes people will make jokes about it the rest of the year, however, you get out of talking to people, cleaning up, don't have to give up your seat, AND you get rest and relaxation. If you find you can't fall asleep surrounded by 30 people, just pretend, start writing your next novel in your head or something. Get creative.

6. If you are relegated to the cold floor out of respect or fear of your elders make sure your placement is no where near someone over the age of 60. This is not ageism, it is merely self-preservation. These people have just finished a very large, very gaseous meal, they are old, they aren't able to hold in their emissions, even if they could they wouldn't. They're old, they'll do what they want. Stay up wind.

7. Enjoy the kiddie table. Yes you're sitting in the coldest room in the house, at the smallest table, in the worst chairs, with the messiest eaters, so what. Treasure this time, because if you ever do move up to the adult table you'll just have awkward conversations, be forced to look at pictures of children and grandchildren who "couldn't make it but wished they were here", and pretending you can't smell the caster oil and hemorrhoid creme seeping from the red hat lady sitting beside you.

8. Be vicious during the gift exchange. It's called Rob Your Neighbor for a a reason. Don't be afraid to do it, it's the only revenge you're allowed to take for the trauma you're enduring. Take that silly putty from the 7 year old, steal that antique ironing board from your newly married and moved cousin, but stay away from anything in a bag if you pick from the pile, wrapping paper is your only smart choice. Unless it feels like books, the books are ALWAYS bad.

9. If you're already the favorite of a certain relative make sure to hang out as much as possible with that person. It never hurts to reinforce how awesome you are. Sure it may not result in any physical gain, but you can lord it over all the other family members your age. If you aren't anyone's favorite find the meanest most senile one and take turns tossing zingers at each other. It's fun for you and them, plus if you say something too mean they'll forget later.

10. Finally, enjoy everything about it. Sure, you're family isn't all sunshine and roses, but no one's is. This family is yours though and that makes it better. If you get frustrated, bored, insulted, or hurt just take a step back and look at it from an outsiders perspective. It's fucking funny, don't even pretend it isn't.

Ahh Family.

The Oil Change Saga Continues

2009-12-17T12:00:00.002-06:00

I'm taking a trip after Christmas. It's going to be a long one; the first long one I've taken in my beautiful new car. I want it to be in the best possible condition for taking said trip, it's like an athlete you know, you've got to make sure it's warmed up, trained, full of fluids, and . . . vacuumed out?

Anyway, that means a trip to the local Speed Lube and a visit with my least favorite and most inappropriate mechanic.

He was there, as he always is. They opened the back doors and waved me in. As soon as I stepped out of the car he told me to turn around, get back into it and go home - they were closed. I smiled uncertainly and hesitantly re-opened my car door. He rolled his eyes, murmured something I couldn't hear and flipped up my hood. I head inside to the waiting room only to find the heat off and the plastic lawn chairs that normally adorn the room MIA. I head back into the garage where the warm air pours down from the ceiling.

I have been effectively trapped into watching my car get her oil changed and chatting with HIM while it happens. I pull out my iPhone and pretend to be very busy and important. He snidely comments that iPhones are "fucking pieces of junk, but you must collect junk since you're driving a Pontiac."

I look justifiably horrified and am unsure what I'm supposed to say in reply. Not only am I unhealthfully obsessed with my phone, but I'm also in a special kind of love with my beautiful 2008 Pontiac Vibe (we're coming up on our year anniversary in January!!!!).

I point out that this car has rave reviews from Consumer Reports, was manufactured on the Toyota assembly line, and has been nothing but fabulous since the day I got it.

He goes off on a tangent about foreign cars.

I try to change to conversation back to something I'm more comfortable talking about, Scarlett Johannson. I know from previous experience that he's a fan and I'm more willing to talk about the "screwability" of a starlet than about how my taste in cars and electronics bites the big one.

This conversation somehow morphs into a diatribe from him about how he IS NOT attracted to any males and is as NON-GAY as you can get. In fact, he isn't even attracted to himself. He doesn't think he's good looking at all and would never "do" himself.

I go back to talking about cars.

How is this dude the manager? I'll give the guy the benefit of the doubt and assume that most of what he was saying was supposed to be a joke, but even as one long joke it's a horrifying way to communicate.

I may end up making these bi-monthly visits into bi-monthly blogs as well. I had intended on never going back to this particular place, but it's a gold mine of awkwardness.

Christmas Parties

2009-12-16T12:00:00.001-06:00

Are inherently awkward.

There I said it, that thing that everyone always thinks but never says because anything that has "party" in the title should be fun, right?

Wrong. Christmas parties are just rife (ripe? what's the correct phrase? I just googled it and both could work, but rife fits better. I win) with opportunities to make everyone uncomfortable and get your invitation for next year revoked.

There are three types of Christmas parties, each one with it's own unique set of rules, expectations and traumatic ways to go wrong: Family Christmas, Friends Christmas, and Office Christmas.

Lets Discuss these in the following posts, shall we?

More Christmas Past

2009-12-09T12:00:00.001-06:00

My Senior year of high school was the first time I was ever able to afford to buy gifts for others.

Honestly that's what changed my whole Christmas experience. All the fun came back. I was finally able to treasure the gifts I got because I realized how much thought, time, and care went in to picking them out, because I had spent months doing the same for them. Every gift was precious because it was from them, because all they wanted to do was make me happy. Put that smile on my face, you know the one, the one that comes along when someone finds you that perfect gift. That gift that you didn't even know you wanted. That something that proved that they knew you so perfectly and cared about you so much.

That's my goal with Christmas every year, finding something that gives them that smile. I don't manage it every year, but I see it enough to keep me going.

So that's my Christmas Secret. Why I love Christmas so much, why I start listening to Christmas music on December 1st and keep listening until it goes off the air. Why I want to spend every spare moment with the ones I love. Why I love wrapping presents with expensive and beautiful wrapping paper. Why I write Christmas cards every year. Why it's hard to frown in December.

It's just around the corner. Spread the Christmas Love.

Christmas

2009-12-07T12:00:00.001-06:00

I know, I know, it's still to early to do a Christmas post. I'm going to do one any way.

I used to be a real Grinch during the Christmas season. I remember in Middle School how much I hated what I considered a pale imitation of a pagan festival put on by Hallmark. Still, as Christmas got closer I'd get a childlike joy that I worked hard to squash into a tiny, bitter, little ball by Christmas Eve. I'd sit through Christmas services at church with a smirk on my face, attend my Great-Aunts Christmas Eve Party with an eye roll and a plead for my parents to let us leave in an hour. After the party we would always drive around looking at Christmas lights, I would pretend I was asleep in the car. We'd get home and Mom would make us change into the most horrific matching Christmas pajamas in the world. My sisters and I would dutifully put them on and go to bed.

The next morning we would all wait for our Grandparents to arrive, open our presents and after everything was open a terrible, awful, hateful thought would run through my mind: Is this it? Even as a preteen monster I felt awful for feeling that way. I couldn't figure out what I was missing, why Christmas stopped being fun, why I wasn't happy or excited for it any more.

It wasn't even about not getting what I wanted for Christmas, my parents always pulled out all the stops and I'll be the first to admit that my sisters and I were incredibly blessed and even spoiled by them during Christmas. It was something that I couldn't understand. Why was Christmas always such a huge build up and then such a huge letdown?

I felt that way until my Senior year of High School.

Correlation does not imply causation

2009-12-05T12:00:00.001-06:00

It just doesn't, so please stop using it in arguments.

Thanks.

Who ARE You?

2009-12-03T12:00:00.002-06:00

I was chatting (and by chatting I mean typing) with some friends a bit ago and the subject of personality tests came up, specifically the Myers-Briggs test. It seemed that most people who have taken the test agree with it. Not just my online besties, but also most of my co-workers.

I guess a few years ago the Company had them all take these tests to expand their minds or some other weird corporate brainwashing thing. Anyway, most of them still remember the tests and what their results wound out being.

It's kinda cool, I ended up being an ISFJ.

If you want to take the test yourself: Humanmetrics.

I suppose that's all for now.

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving Thoughts

2009-11-25T12:00:00.000-06:00

Thanksgiving is upon us woot, yay, huzzah and all that. While I desperately love any holiday that allows me to have two pieces of pie without a dirty look, I'm not super excited about it. What I am SUPER excited about is after Thanksgiving. CG and his family are coming down on Friday and will be spending the weekend with us. FES's (I think I've talked about FES on here before, maybe, anyway our Foreign Exchange Student from Germany) uncle and brother will be coming in as well. Our house will be absolutely packed, which means that my sisters and I get to stay at Grandpa's house.

I haven't spent the night at Grandpa's house since Memaw died, at first because it was too painful to even go inside the house where I spent most of my childhood, then later because it was too painful watching Grandpa making the house into a shrine to her. Over the last year things have gotten better for him, which we are all very grateful for. The house, while still featuring an alter of sorts on the kitchen island devoted to Memaw, has changed, it's easier to go inside and spend time there, finally.

So all of us girls will be spending our nights at Grandpa's again, on that big white feather comforter, in the middle of the floor of the living room, in front of the old console tv, maybe we'll even watch old cartoons, just like we used to when Memaw was around. I think we're all looking forward to it, things like this bring back so many good memories and when we can create new memories from the old, knowing that Grandpa is sleeping alone in his bed doesn't feel so terrible.

So this Thanksgiving I'm grateful for the ability to move on. Terrible, tragic things happen, things that we're sure we'll never be able to move on from, to get over. But we do, that's what's so amazing about the human race: our ability to hope, grow, learn, get better.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone, safe travels, and be well.

Normal for Me

2009-11-16T12:00:00.001-06:00

Oh look, Callie doesn't have the brain power for a post today, so she's half-assing it with a list instead. How inspired.

This list is of things that seem completely normal to me:

1. Riding around in a limo from the 80's with gold trim
2. Waking up with bruises and having no idea how I got them
3. Building blanket forts
4. Dancing wildly with my 8 year old cousin
5. Getting bras in the mail
6. Throwing hedge balls around as a game
7. Wearing one coat into work and putting on a second over top of the first to stay warm in the office.
8. Dressing up as Louie the Lightning Bug
9. Wearing hunter's orange to take a walk
10. Being nicer to strangers than to family

Ch-ch-ch-changes, Turn and Face the Strain

2009-11-02T12:00:00.001-06:00

. . . just gonna have to be a different man

ANYway, I was once told by someone that your personality changes constantly, so much so, that every seven years you become a different person. I can't remember who this person was, but I'ma believe them anyway (and you should too).

I'm constantly surprised by the new things I learn about myself. I used to be terrified of rollercoasters, now I quite enjoy them. I used to cherish being alone and completely self-sufficient, now I find it hard to spend more than two evenings in a row alone and enjoy almost any interaction I have with the populace. I used to like Family Guy (although I blame my dislike for it now less on a change in me and more on the sub-par writing on the new seasons). I used to think that I could and would do anything for the right amount of money. I used to live and plan only for the future.

I really have changed a lot in the last few years, so I can't wait to see who I'll be in another seven years.

I could end up being a socialist Asian man, my dad would flip his shit (about the socialist bit, although now that I think about it, I'm sure that my dad would also be at least slightly curious about how I became Asian and male . . .)

French Maids and Why I Need One

2009-10-15T12:00:00.001-05:00

1. Because they're awesome.
2. Because I wouldn't have to clean my house any more.
3. Because I like their nifty outfits, especially their frilly hats.
4. They have to have a good sense of humor, who else would wear that get-up and still be smiling 5 hours later.
5. They have nice accents.
6. They might know some french men.
7. Do they do windows? If they do windows I definitely need one.
8. They're sex on toast.
9. I like toast.
10. I also like pie.

Halloween Carvings

2009-10-07T12:00:00.004-05:00

2007

2008

2009

Hate

2009-10-06T12:00:00.001-05:00

I've been thinking about hate a lot recently. When I was young my sisters and I used to scream our hatred of each other for everyone to hear when we got mad. Just the word hate would send mom careening down the hallway towards us like a bullet. She'd lean down, look into our faces and say, "we don't hate in this house, we don't say that word, you DO NOT hate. You may not like someone, but you never hate."

I don't think any of us girls got it back then. I "hated" everything, my sisters, boys, math, science, that bitch who betrayed me in theatre, red lights, and getting my picture taken.

The hate of a teenager is a massive and fluid thing. That's the type of hate that isn't hate at all. It's testing boundaries, trying to control your hormones and wondering just what the fuck happened to make you such a basket case.

As I get older mom's words make more and more sense. I've never really hated anyone or anything. Not in a lasting way. There's only one time in my life that I think I experienced hate as a real emotion and with a few years and a lot of growing it's disappeared.

Lasting hate, irrational hate, the hate that leads to violence I've never felt nor understood. I'm glad. I can't imagine carrying that around with me.

Mom's a wise woman.

We don't hate in this house.

You may not like someone, but you never hate.

After getting that lecture from Mom my sisters and I would look at each other, stick out our tongues and say, "I really, really dislike you."

We were so sweet.

The New Phone

2009-10-02T12:00:00.002-05:00

As most of you know, my 1st Gen iPhone finally died. It was a combination of things really. The toilet episode, lots of droping, etc. but the final straw was when I bought a cheap, non-namebrand charger on sale. I brought it home, plugged my phone in and the screen ran this horrible series of varying blackness. It did this for 10 minutes before it finally settled down into sheer blackness.

I tried restarting it, a hard shut down, re-syncing it with the computer. I called Apple, I searched on-line, I called my Dad. Nothing helped, nothing was bringing my baby back. I went to bed hoping in vain that I'd wake up the next morning and my sweet little phone would magically be better. I'd touch the home key and the screen would light my life back up with it's warm mechanical glow.

No such luck. Two weeks later and I still can't get so much as a sizzle out of it.

So I got a new phone. I looked around for a while first, checked out the other non-iPhone options out there. But lets face it, it's impossible to go back to a normal phone after the iPhone. So after doing my due diligence I bought a new iPhone, got a new plan and waited for it to arrive in the mail.

I loved my 1st Gen like a child, I still have it tucked away in my desk. I can't get rid of it, I probably won't ever. But this new phone the 3Gs is AMAZING. It's everything I want and 100 times more. I can't think of a single thing that I want that it can't do.

I need to tell if a table is level - there's the app.
I'm having trouble falling asleep - there's an app.
I really want to play Scrabble - app.
I need to make a grocery list - app.
I wonder what phase the moon is in - app.
I'd like some Mistletoe - app.

I'm not even kidding. I have all of these apps.

This phone is my Holy Grail, it's the Hall to my Oats, the Aladdin to my Jasmine, the Fred Bird to my Ozzy Smith, the pop to my tart.

So yeah, I'll always love my first, but this is a different kind of love, a new love that transcends time and space.

At least until the next iPhone release.

It's Fucking October!!!!!!!!!!

2009-10-01T12:00:00.000-05:00

Finally! Finally! Finally! I have a deep and abiding love for October, the weather, the cider, the leaves changing, but mostly it's Halloween bitches!

I love Halloween. I have no way to form coherent sentences about how fantastic, amazing, and fabby I think it is.

As I told a group of friends recently:

Halloween is by far the most fun holiday, you get to put horrible, repulsive things out all over your yard and your house, talk about severed body parts and blood without being judged, watch terrible movies, get sick on candy, AND dress like a dirty pirate hooker.

I get most excited about pumpkin carving. I'm slightly obsessed with it. I've done it every year since I've been on my own. Mom was never a big one for the mess it caused so we always just drew faces on pumpkins instead (which totally sucked 'cause I can't draw a straight line to save my life).

The first couple of years were rough, I didn't do very detailed work and usually ended up cutting my pumpkin to shreds. I've gotten MUCH better since I moved into my own house and bought a lot of practice pumpkins.

I'll probably update later with pictures of previous years because I'm way too proud of them.

Happy October everyone!

Male Validation

2009-08-27T12:00:00.006-05:00

So I've finally caved. I've joined the ranks of reality show junkies.

My drug of choice?

I love that train wreck. I've managed to avoid Survivor, Big Brother, The Bachelor, etc., but give me fat girls with emotional baggage and I'm all over that shit like white on rice.

What absolutely makes this show for me has to be the non-repentant need for male validation and approval. All of these girls are so desperate for positive male attention that at the first smile from Luke they're instantly in love, crying, and proclaiming on camera to millions of people that their self-esteem has never been so high.

Really, this is what us fat girls are bringing to the table in relationships, co-dependence, inferiority complexes and complex carbohydrates (did anyone see those waffles on the last episode, damn they looked delicious and I don't even like breakfast)?

The young one, Mel Something Or Other, was the one I was rooting for. She was the most tragic mess. I really felt for her and wanted her to do well. Except for the fact that "doing well" in this competition meant winning the affection of the most herpes infested, dirt bag, male chauvinist pig I've seen on acceptable and politically correct TV. When she left she assured us that she grew in experience and self-esteem and that this was not the end, she would get her happy ending.

Girlfriend better settle for paying a male erotic masseur if she's thinking a man is going to solve all her problems. At least that way she can be guaranteed an orgasm and a back rub.

Then there's the "I love you" girl, (Kirsten, Kristian, I don't know, but I'm pretty sure it starts with a K) this chick was bug-nuts. There aren't any words for how obsessive, stalkerish, and desperate this woman was. She scared me, a lot. Now she's gone too.

So what's left to look forward too you ask? Well the three thinnest girls and the biggest hoe. Shocker.

All I can think when I see the King of the Douche Bags kiss another girl is, "No God NO! HERPES HERPES HERPES, protect yo' self! Get some dental dams or something. Do not kiss that man, Lord knows where his tongue has been in the last 30 minutes, down at least three or four girls throats, and I saw the way that he looked at that horse on his romantic date with the big hoe.

You can't fool me Luke, you can't fool me.

So Luke and some cute, blond chubby girl are on a date. He comments on the view and she agrees that it's beautiful. Then he says, "I was talking about about you." The cute blond looks like a deer in the headlights. How in the world can she be so pleased and shocked by the most overused, pointless, gag-inducing phrase man has ever uttered? If anyone EVER said that to me and was serious about it I'd be sick. Literally, I'd try to hold it in, but I make no promises. The only way to react to something that ridiculous and snark worthy is to puke right in the guys face.

Then on this very same date Luke talks to cute blond chubby girl about family and kids. She figures she will work and not stay home with them. He condescendingly asks her how she thinks the child care arrangements will work out with both of them working. Uh, hello asshole, if a woman wants to work, let her and child care is not just her problem it's your's too you chauvinist wanker. Please DIAF.

Cute blond chubby girl goes home too.

I hate this dude.

I met Abe Lincoln . . .

2009-08-24T12:00:00.001-05:00

and my camera died before I could get a picture with him.

I'm obsessed with Abe, I love him. No seriously, it's a sickness. I'm crazy about him. I read books about him, watch any movies, tv shows, or YouTube videos that so much as mention him.

I think he's the hottest thing ever. I want his babies. If only he weren't dead. I'm sure he would have chosen me over that royal bitch he married.

In college there was a very tall boy that I had a few Communications classes with and he looked enough like Abra-hankin' Lankin' for me to develop a severe and embarrassing crush. I would talk about him to my roommate constantly, how dreamy he was, how I'd stare at the back of his head during Mass Media classes, anxiously await our public speaking days to hear his voice.

I didn't care about him as person. I had absolutely no interest in getting to know him. I just liked to stare. It's really a good thing too, 'cause he was terminally stupid.

I am 110% positive that my real Abe was the smartest, most amazing man in the entire world. Oh Abe, how I wish my camera would have held on for just a few more minutes. All I got was this picture of my soul mate playing Bago:

*drool*

Puppy Pictures - As Requested

2009-08-15T12:00:00.000-05:00

Here's Coleman:

He's cute and everything, but Katie is much cuter:

Okay, so it's Kate as a baby, she's still super cute even as an adult dog and I can't be arsed to search around my computer files to find a grown up version.

♥

The Dog

2009-08-06T12:00:00.001-05:00

I had to leave my dog (Katie) at the farm last weekend because I'm going to be so busy over the next few weeks. I did, however, take another dog back home with me. His name is Coleman and he's a terrier mix. He's a truly adorable dog, very friendly and sweet.

He's driving me bat-shit insane. He cannot be alone, ever, I mean EVER. If I leave the room he barks, when I put him outside he barks, if I crate him he barks, if no one is paying attention to him he barks. The only time I get any peace at all is when he's running around my house like a loon and jumping on my furniture or sniffing my cats.

I'm at my wits end here. I don't deal well with barky dogs, and by that I mean I don't deal at all. There is nothing in this world that grates on my nerves more than barking. In comparison, nails on a chalkboard are a welcome relief.

Now, my Katie is no angel, she does bark and she's excessively hyper, but she listen's to me and knows when she needs to be quiet and when it's acceptable to get a little rowdy. I've raised her and she knows her limits. Okay, so maybe she doesn't always know her limits and my sisters basically hate her and curse at me every time I bring her to the farm.

But she's mine and I love her. She doesn't listen to anyone except me and she gets so excited when someone new comes around that you think she might rip your face right off from the excitement of it all. I swear she's a good dog though (okay I admit that I'm biased, but she's better than Coleman!!).

Coleman has no limits and it's such a small, yappy little thing. I'm not a small, yappy type dog girl. I never have been. Katie the beagle mix is as small a dog as I'll ever get.

Coleman is a terrier, the worst kind of yappy dog (in my opinion).

I suppose I should get to the actual story behind him. My mother and sisters "found" Coleman while they were camping. Someone dumped him and drove off. They don't understand how someone could do that with an obviously well-cared for pet (after living alone with Coleman for 3 days not only do I understand, I empathize).

Someone that I work with is interested in adopting him. I'm meeting up with her tonight and she'll take him for the weekend to see if he gets along with her current dog.

So even if you aren't religious I'm begging you to pray with me. Please let this woman fall head over heals for this small, yappy, irritating as hell dog. Because if I have to take him back on Sunday I'm pretty sure I'll commit puppy-murder by Monday night.

I was trying to do a good deed, getting this dog off the farm for my parents and finding him a good home, instead I'm just punishing myself.

I just wanted my oil changed . . .

2009-08-05T12:00:00.001-05:00

I was getting my oil changed last night after work and was talking to the manager. Every time I come in he has something off-topic and inappropriate to talk to me about.

Last time he talked about famous people he found attractive and wanted to sex up. Then asked me the same question, males and females. Me being me, I of course immediately spouted off about my lust/love for Angelina Jolie and Scarlet Johansson. Then he got graphic and started talking about his fantasies, luckily my phone rang and I was able to end the conversation.

This time he talked to me about how he left work early the day before so that he could go to the nearest bar and drink. How he's pretty sure he's an alcoholic because of it and that he just doesn't care. He continued to enumerate on the virtues of drinking until you pass out in the middle of the day and can't remember anything.

I have no problem with either of these topics when discussed with friends, but the random ass guy that I'm trusting to change the oil in my car? Not so much.

What about me says, feel free to tell me inappropriate and off topic information about your personal life?

It happens all the time. I'm just trying to be polite in the supermarket line, say Good morning, how are you? and then have to listen as some random girl tells me about the boy she had sex with last night and how tired she is today because of it.

I readily admit to being the Queen of TMI, in fact, it's a running joke with most of my friends. However I try to control myself enough to to NOT talk about it with the man trying to repair my cable.

The End of an Era?

2009-08-03T12:00:00.001-05:00

I went to a wedding over the weekend and it was just wonderful. As a general rule I'm not a fan of other people's weddings. I usually find them boring and pointless. The only exception to this rule is close family.

With close family I have no problem acting like a moron out on the dance floor, am usually very familiar with the venue because I've spent the entire day setting up, I've got tons of people I can talk to, and I can get the bride and groom whatever gift I want because I'm family god-damn it and I don't have to look at their registry if I don't want to.

This one was good, besides all of the aforementioned perks my cousin's band played and my cousin-in-laws father was the DJ. I also learned the Cupid Shuffle, got alcohol spit on me on the dance floor, colored a Strawberry Shortcake picture, kept the fondue table going, and had some of my aunts famous pickles (they were delicious as usual).

I got some other amazing wedding news yesterday. A very close, very good friend of mine from college is getting married on Friday. It's very small, very quiet, and at the courthouse. She doesn't want any presents, any cards, or any hoopla. She's honestly the last girl I expected to get married, just because she's always said that she wouldn't.

I'm glad that she's getting married the way that she is. I figured she and her SO would marry at some point and if they did I figured it would be very small and quiet. I also have to admit that I wondered from time to time if they weren't married already and just not telling anyone. It just makes sense from a financial and health coverage perspective.

So yay for them as well! There are weddings everywhere. That means only 1 college girlfriend, 3 high school girlfriends, and no family members (for the next few years at least), left unmarried.

They're closing ranks people. Fight the power! Or give in . . . you know, whichever you prefer.

Little quirks

2009-07-31T12:00:00.003-05:00

I'll listen to the same song over and over and over again until I know every single word to it.

I don't like my foods to touch each other.

I only eat one food at a time and turn my plate in a circle as I go from one food to the next.

I only like eating the broken tortilla chips.

I bite my nails.

I'm rigid with my morning routine and it never varies.

I like Taylor Swift (judge me, I deserve it).

I put off everything except homework. I always get that done as far in advance as possible.

I don't deal well the stress of fixing someone else's mistakes, or my own for that matter.

I'm adept at dealing with unexpected stress.

I'd rather stab myself repeatedly in the hand with a sharpened spork than cry in front of someone.

I love going to the car wash and wish I could afford to wash my car every week.

I hate my eyes.

I have an awesome corporate "phone voice."

Free Food

2009-07-30T00:00:00.001-05:00

There are few perks in being a corporate drone. These are: steady paycheck, health benefits, the occasional free meal.

Today I have gotten lots of free food: tomatoes, peaches, a watermelon, and a free lunch.

Some days are kind of completely amazing. The peaches are genuine Calhoun peaches, the most delicious things ever. The tomatoes and watermelon are home grown from a co-worker.

We also got our shirts in today for all of the events we will be doing over the next month or so. They look amazing and I'll be taking one home with me tonight to wear this weekend.

I heart free stuff.

Ouch %$#$@ ! &$%@#$!%(

2009-07-28T12:00:00.002-05:00

I'm accident prone. I fall ALL the time, seriously, at least once a week. I'll slip on the bathroom or kitchen floor, trip over the dog, cat, coffee table, rogue shoe, wear slick soled shoes in my garage, the parking deck, walking the dog. Sometimes I don't even have an excuse, I just collapse in a heap.

I also bruise easily and consistently, I currently have 13 bruises. I only know where about 6 of them came from.

I get scratched a lot too. Between the cats, random nails in my wall, paper cuts, and knife wounds its a wonder I haven't bled to death.

My favorite curse during 95.5% of these injuries: mothertrucker. I usually string as many curse words together as my brain can think of and come up with some very surprising and innovative word choices. I then try to use them in day to day life.

Look at me, taking lemons and turning them into f#$%ing lemonade!

Jealousy

2009-07-24T12:00:00.001-05:00

Is a funny thing, especially for me. I've never really been a jealous person, of course there have been times when I've wanted what someone else had, but I wasn't ever jealous of the person for what they had. If I wanted it badly enough I'd find a way to get one of my own.

That's how it's always been.

What brings this up now are the people that Facebook and Myspace recommend to me as "friends," people that I've neither seen nor thought about since I graduated high school 6 years ago (has it really been 6 years, fuck I'm old). I see their shining faces looking out from their little picture windows and am always surprised by how much you can tell from a profile picture and a status update. If people are married, have children, have pets, if they party, stay at home, work, slack, etc.

It's fascinating to flip through their lives with the same carelessness and detached interest that you exhibit reading a magazine in a doctors waiting room. I tend to learn more about myself than them.

I've recently learned that although I don't get jealous or bitter when I see schoolmates with things that I don't have, I do get the occasional snark twinge. I don't know what it is about the high school years that always brings out my bitchfactor, but it's there. Even when I know that the self-satisfied, content feeling that comes with seeing into the lives of others is only temporary and most probably incorrectly placed.

I wish I could give the feeling a better name. It's a mix between smugness and contentment, it crosses the line occasionally into a holier-than-thou attitude and usually straddles the well-wishing line.

Is there a word for that feeling you get when you see someone else with all the good things you thought you wanted and all you can think is: I still wouldn't trade?

Bachelorette Adventures Pt. 3

2009-07-22T12:00:00.000-05:00

The final installment.

So we get back from the work out, eat some pizza, the bride-to-be opens her severely risque gifts, we drink some more and decide to go to a bar.

We start looking for a bar that is near the club we're going to later. We park and start walking down the street. At this point a scary old man comes out of a smoke filled bar and starts following us shouting, "You're whores, you're whores." At first we though he was saying, "You're home, you're home." But after he followed us into the bar still yelling "whores" at us we figured it out. He continued to hang around as we did shots, picked out music on the jukebox and generally ignored him.

At one point he cornered the bride-to-be and started talking to her about romantic songs and how soon she was getting married. I went over and not so subtly turned my back on him, cutting off his view of her and the conversation.

We hung out there for a while, played some pool, took some dares which involved me doing a short version of our lap dance in the middle of the bar, my sister asking for a random guys number, the future SIL asking a guy for change for the condom machine and another guys sock. We also danced around to a Hairspray song. I'm sure the regulars at the bar just loved us. *insert eyeroll here*

From there we went to the club, most of the party got lost on the way there so SIL and I headed in and hung out until they showed up. It was another hour until the guys joined us and we all proceeded to drink, dance, sing along, and have a generally awesome time.

Towards the end of the night the DJ put on Birthday Sex and SIL and the bride-to-be did a lap dance for some random guy and the groom. I took lots of pictures and was very grateful that CG was around as a convenient excuse for me to not shake my ass and hump a chair in front of about 200 people.

My youngest sister, a fresh faced 18 year old came very close to accidentally dirty dancing with a drunk 40 year old. How can you accidentally dirty dance you ask? I'll tell you how, some creepy as hell, drunk ass comes up behind you gyrating and taking his shirt off. I have to admit here that I was more than a little tipsy. I got up of the bar stool crossed the dance floor gave the creep my most hateful look and drug my sister up to the front and away from Creepy McPedophile.

We left soon after. It was totally awesome and on the way home there was much slurred singing and chest thrusting.

Sometimes (most times) being female is the greatest thing ever.

Bachelorette Adventures Pt. 2

2009-07-21T12:00:00.002-05:00

So we get down to business and strippercise our little black hearts out. It's completely hilarious and a lot less uncomfortable and weird than you'd think. I mean it's cousins, aunts, mothers, in there together, giving lap dances to empty chairs and hanging from poles.

Our first 45 minutes was the lap dance. We did it to this song:

(Birthday Sex by Jeremiah)

If you listen to the song you can totally tell where the butt shaking/boob gyrating/humping sections happen. I was actually grateful to be in the front row because that meant that I didn't have to watch everyone else. Every time I picture my mother vibrating on top of a chair to "it's your birthday and I know you want to riiii-iii-iii-ide" I get a little queasy.

Then came the pole dancing lessons. Most everyone failed epically at this, which made me feel much better about not being able to hold onto the pole for more than a few seconds. It became glaringly obvious to me that I would never be a professional pole dancer. Those girls have some serious upper body strength and I salute them for their dedication to sexiness.

We all took away some valuable dance skills that we used for the rest of the night. There's the chest push-hand cover, the floor hump, the crazy leg (not to be confused with the stanky leg, which is apparently also a dance move), and of course the body roll.

On the trip home the bride-to-be decided that we should all do the lap dance at the club we were going to later. All of the younger girls were really excited about it.

I was less than thrilled.

Bachelorette Adventures

2009-07-20T12:00:00.000-05:00

So I had a complete and total blast this past weekend. I can't remember a weekend that's been so amazing.

It started with the boys getting ready for their paintball extravaganza. They were all completely dorky and adorable. CG even wore a do-rag. AH-MAY-ZING. My father was dressed from the top of his head to the soles of his shoes in camo, the groom was wearing shorts, fuzzy wool socks pulled up to his knees and tennis shoes, my cousins looked normal, and my uncle was wearing a bright orange camo floppy hat. They looked fabulous. They apparently had a fabulous time with lots of shooting, falling, John Wayne moments, and bluff calling. Most of them ended up with some serious bruising.

Us girls went to my aunts house to start our adventure. Before we got there I tied one on for the road. If I'm going to drink I do the damn thing right. We get to my Aunts and start drinking some more, listen to music and plan for the epic-ness that will be strippercise.

We load up and head out. I'm already a teeny bit tipsy. We're all in high heels and sweat pants walking through downtown. We run across a quickly changing crosswalk. One of my hooker heels gets caught in between the bricks in the crosswalk. I start to fall, I continue to fall as I take 4 more steps. I face plant in the middle of the crosswalk, downtown, at 2 in the afternoon. It's amazing and was apparently very graceful.

We finally get to the center and head inside. It's then that I realize I'm bleeding on both knees. It hurts, like a lot, and I'll be spending the next hour or so on them. I'm very grateful for the pre-sexay dance drinks and brace myself for what's to come.

To Be Continued

Busy is just an excuse.

2009-07-17T12:00:00.000-05:00

But seriously, I have been crazy busy at work and at home. Hopefully next week I'll have some good stories about it all.

This weekend I'll be going to my cousin's bachelorette party. We're going to strippercise. All of the females in my family. Sexy Dancing. Awesome.

While I was typing this the CEO of our company came in, looked me in the eye, took my Rubix cube off my desk, and walked away. WTH?!?

Seriously people I can't make this shit up.

Real World Dating: Uncle Randy

2009-07-13T12:00:00.002-05:00

There is really nothing bad that I have to say about Randy. He was quirky and fun, we could talk for hours on any subject, had the same taste in movies, games, books, and hobbies.

I met "Uncle" Randy on a dating website (I told you I used it more than once). Everyone called him Uncle Randy because of how he looked. You know that uncle that never quite seemed to grow up? Who was built like a grizzly bear? Who wore his hair long, grew a full beard - who you were sometimes embarrassed to introduce to your significant other? Who also had a heart so big that he'd cry at a good film. Who would punch through a man's face for you but hold a kitten so tenderly that you couldn't believe it was the same guy?

Maybe people only have uncles like this where I live.

Anyway, that was Randy. He was wonderful, on our second date he gave me a limited edition World of Warcraft playing card designed by Gabe from Penny Arcade (that's all geek speak so just play along). He remembered my birthday after only a month of casually seeing each other and brought me a card and flowers.

He was/is a great guy but I couldn't manage to muster up more than a mild interest in him. He really was everything that I should have been looking for and I was lucky to be dating him.

But as happens in life things don't always work out the way they should and when my current guy (CG for the sake of brevity) asked me to go steady (yes I said go steady, don't judge me!) I ended it with Randy.

If you're doing the time line you'll realize that I was dating Randy, Carl, and CG at about the same time. Well I was, and I'm not even a little ashamed. If I hadn't dated all of them I would never have these fabulous memories and embarrassing moments.

Real World Dating: Mortgage Miles

2009-07-10T12:00:00.001-05:00

Miles lives one town away from me. I met him while driving through said town and randomly stopping at the grocery store. Miles asked me to help him choose a ripe melon. I told him that I knew nothing about melons and that it was an affront to my feminist nature that he would assume that I would. He laughed. It was a good sign that he got my sense of humor. He was also cute with a thick neck and a square chin. Yum.

I gave Miles my number and my email. We chatted for a while through email and really hit it off. He talked about his family and his job. He was really into the environment and worked with the State Environmental Agency to upkeep our local Prairieland grasses. He was also a volunteer firefighter. Me and men in uniform, it's a weakness.

We decided to go out a few weeks later and met up at my local country club. It wasn't nearly as fun as I figured it would be. He kept talking to me about mortgage rates and homeownership.

Now I'm as interested in all of that as your average first-time homeowner, but I sat through 3 hours of this kind of talk. Every time I tried to change the subject he brought it back up. We missed our movie because of it. I started ordering alcohol.

Even while slightly buzzed he was boring. It was absolutely tragic. He drove me home and we kissed. It was also boring. Double tragedy.

I hoped that he was just nervous and that maybe on our second date things would be better. Luckily for me a week later I met my current guy.

Miles left me with fond memories and a broader knowledge of real estate. Thank you Miles.

Things I Do in my Review Mirror

2009-07-09T12:00:00.001-05:00

1. Make pouty faces

2. Pick my teeth

3. Pretend I'm in a music video.

4. Check my pimples.

5. Watch the people in the car behind me.

6. Apply lip gloss

7. Take pictures of myself

8. Fix my hair.

9. Pretend that there are people in my back seat.

10. Talk to the people in my back seat.

Real World Dating - You're Not Really Scottish Carl

2009-07-08T12:00:00.003-05:00

Next on the list is Scottish Carl. I met Carl on a dating site: my first mistake. Although I can't say too much about it because I've made that mistake a few times since.

Carl seemed like the perfect guy for me, a total nerd, working on his degree in Special Education. He was a volunteer firefighter, worked full-time to put himself through school and enjoyed a lot of the same hobbies that I did.

Carl wasn't cute, he wasn't really even good-looking, but he was nice and he seemed safe and that was good enough for me. We talked for a long time before we ever met. Our first date was to see the movie Beowulf. It was a decent date, no sparks and occasionally awkward, but you can't have everything right? I decided that it was definitely worth a second date.

He calls me the next day to ask me to dinner. He talks the entire time using a terrible Scottish accent and he gives this reasoning:

"My family is very Scottish, I do a wonderful accent don't I? You can't tell I'm not from Scotland. I can do a lot of accents really well, I'll do a different one each time I call you, okay? One thing you should know about us Scotsmen: we'll never lie. I'm very honest and open. I love you."

After I finally got him off the phone I sat down with my checkbook and wrote him a check for $8.50; the price of my movie admission ticket. I mailed it to him the next day.

I really don't want to owe anyone that delusional anything.

Real World Dating - Jorge

2009-07-07T12:00:00.001-05:00

I suppose I shouldn't call Jorge a date, as I never actually went on one with him. However, he did constantly ask me out, eat with me whenever possible and gave me oddly phrased compliments.

After I graduated from college I went to work selling useless crap door to door. After two weeks I quit in disgust. I started working at a super fancy hotel as the night bell(wo)man. It was pretty quiet most nights and I spent them making up couch beds for drunken heiresses who came to party, shining shoes, picking up breakfast orders, shining our brass baggage carts and helping the night clerk look for motorcycle parts on Craigslist.

I also spent a lot of time chatting with the Mexican cleaning staff. We took turns helping each other with Spanish/English. One of them - Jorge was a super sweet 40 year old who was always eager to help. At first I thought he was being nice, but after he told me, "You're pretty for a chubby girl. You should already have a man and not have to work here, but stay home and have babies." I knew it was a bit more than that.

Jorge would always sit with me during "lunch" at 1 in the morning and chat about his work visa and how I was "too pretty to work." Me being all of 22 and fresh out of college I was not crazy about the idea of marrying a middle-aged man so he could get a green card. No matter how many times he asked me out or talked about our babies.

I started eating lunch in the bellhop closet. It smelled like shoe-polish and cleaning supplies, but I could listen to the Cardinal's games in peace.

Gary Allen - Not the Singer

2009-07-06T12:00:00.004-05:00

My next traumatizing collegiate dating experience was with Gary Allen. Gary was hot, I'm talking red hot. So hot that he turned me into a gibbering pile of goo with one look.

I met Gary while I was doing a bake sale for my honor society. Gary was at the next table in full army dress and was busy handing out pamphlets, trying to get college kids to sign their lives away, and being hot - mainly being hot. He was there with a Marine and an Air Force recruiter. I was there with fellow honor society member Anika.

Anika is/was completely beautiful. Gary kept staring at our table. I kept avoiding eye contact and figured he was interested in Anika. I'm cute in a dorky, girl-next-door kind of way, but in no reality was I on Gary's level. Gary comes over to talk to us. We talk for a good 10 minutes.

Apparently we were flirting, I thought I was just being friendly, but I get those two things mixed up a lot.

He walks away to talk to his armed forces buddies. Anika tells me that he's totally in love with me and I need to have his babies. I agree.

He comes back over and talks for another 20 minutes or so and asks for my number. I'm shocked. We go out a few times, but more often than not we hang out in the bedroom of the townhouse I share with 3 other girls.

He always comes straight over after work, always dressed in fatigues and always undeniably good-looking. I begin to notice not so little things though. Like he makes severely inappropriate and sexist comments about women constantly. I was a Woman's Studies minor at the time so that's always a bad move. I let it slide because he's cute.

I notice the imprint of a ring on his left hand. I ignore it because he's cute. One night he comes over with the ring on. I ask him about it.

Him: "I'm not married if that's what your asking, but if I was would it matter?"
Me: Um, yes it would matter, I would never date someone who was married. I couldn't hurt another woman like that knowingly.
Him: Well I'm not married, but obviously if someone is unhappy enough to cheat things aren't working so it's not like it's a real marriage. Would you really stop seeing me?
Me: Yes, of course I would. There is no excuse.

The conversation ended there because we started making out. Yes, I'm a terrible person, yes I was extremely stupid. But I'm telling you, he was just soooo good looking, and the high that I got from someone that hot being attracted to me made my head swim.

I saw him once after that it very, very far from pleasant.

So Gary Allen wherever you are please go DIAF. As for me I've been doing penance for my vanity for two and a half years now. The karma police totally got me.

Creepy Dan

2009-07-02T12:00:00.001-05:00

To continue on with my horrendous dating history I give you Dan.

Dan is a nice guy, a complete dork, but that kind of turns me on. What can I say, I'm easy. I met Dan in the basement of our Public Administration building. Dan drops his books. I help pick them up.

Are we seeing a pattern here folks? Callie sees someone who needs help, Callie helps, Callie gets trapped into an awkward conversation and an unwanted date.

I give Dan my number, he seems normal. He calls me that night, we meet in the outside picnic area on campus. He pulls out his wallet and proceeds to show me pictures of his 12 cats. They are all professionally done.

I get out of that situation as quickly as I can. I avoid Dan's calls. (As you can see I'm AWESOME and confronting any type of situation head on) Dan stops calling. I feel relief.

I'm working at the dorm cafe one night and a co-worker (Emily for clarity's sake) comes to the back storeroom and tells me someone wants to see me. I go out.

There is Dan - with more pictures of his cats. I like cats, I really do. In fact I have two. I do not like cats enough to have professional portraits done of them and then carry them around with me. I give Dan an awkward smile and tell him they are wonderful.

Emily tells Dan that he's creepy and weird and he needs to leave, especially as he shouldn't have been able to get into our card-swipe in only dormitory.

Dan leaves. I hug Emily.

Scary Mike

2009-07-01T12:00:00.002-05:00

My past has been full of interesting characters. The most interesting, complex, and terrifying have been my dates. Especially in college. My roommate Dani and I would give nick-names to all of my dates as soon as I got home from them. She always got the play by play.

Scary Mike was my first experiment in college dating. I met him as I was walking from the cafeteria. He had a huge full beard, long biker hair, and was built like an alcoholic, over-the-hill linebacker. He was walking to the tin buildings across campus for an art class. He had three huge canvases (canvi?) and the wind was blowing hard. One flew out of his hand and I went to catch it.

The picture was a watercolor with a flaming scull and naked women.

I still walked with him to class carrying the picture for him. He asked me for my number and I actually gave him the real one. This was before I found that hot line number that gives the guy the brush off for you and then lists different suicide options.

He called the next day and we had lunch a few days later. He was still scary so I decided to avoid him until he lost interest. He called me twice a day for two weeks and one day I saw him in the bushes of my dorm watching me walk to class.

The next night I was walking back to the dorm alone from dinner with some friends and I see Mike. I grab a campus newspaper and try to hide my face. It doesn't work as it's almost impossible to pretend to read a newspaper while walking down a curvy sidewalk. Plus, walking down said sidewalk with an enormous newspaper does tend to attract attention.

He sees me and asks how I am, why I haven't called and proceeds to go into detail about the horrible things that have happened to him since we last spoke. I feel terrible for him and agree to go for a walk.

I know what you're all thinking: RUN CALLIE, RUN LIKE THE WIND.

We went for a walk, down to the dark unlit pond. We sit under the willow tree on a picnic bench. We talk. He starts molesting my ear.

I'm not even kidding. It's traumatizing. He devours the thing and I'm just sitting there not moving at all. My brain is screaming at me to get up, to tell him to stop slathering my ear with spit. Finally I tell him to stop. He does. We talk some more. He molests my ear again.

My ear must be extremely beautiful because that seemed to be all he was interested in thank God.

I finally tell him that I need to get home because Dani is probably locked out of the room as she NEVER carried a key. He protests and slobbers on my ear some more. I get up, we walk back. We walk through the theatre hall, past the long lines of people waiting to enter Dora the Explorer LIVE. He tries to hold my hand, I pretend that I like children and do the "aw how cute hand movement" to keep from getting trapped by his greasy palm.

We get to my dorm, I run inside and straight into an extremely angry Dani, who has indeed been locked out of our room.

I tell her the story. She makes me call him immediately and tell him that I'm getting back together with an imaginary boyfriend and to never call me again.

I see him occasionally on campus in the bushes but he never says anything.

A few days later a weird rash shows up on my ear and down my neck.

He gave me ring-worm. It took 4 months for it to clear up.

Office Contests

2009-06-30T12:00:00.000-05:00

I won an office contest last week. Everyone turned in pictures of themselves from 1984. Then these pictures were circulated and we had to guess who was who.

I was born in 1985 so I felt left out. I offered to give them a picture of a spermatozoa but the contest coordinator felt that the picture would be inappropriate.

They did let me make guesses though and I have to say I totally kicked ass. There were only five people who got them all right. They drew names for the prizes and I got a Rubik cube.

I hate Rubik cubes. I've never even come close to completing one and I've never had any desire to really try. I did, however, decide to display it on my desk space with pride.

Someone has been messing with my Rubik cube.

They keep mixing the colors! The colors need to match.

I don't even want to imagine the carnage that will await me when I get back from vacation next Monday. Blue, green, white, yellow, red, orange, mixed together all willy-nilly.

What if they start messing with Louie the Lightning Bug! Oh the humanity! These people obviously have no moral compass.

Brain Wracking

2009-06-25T12:00:00.000-05:00

So I've been trying my hardest to think of ANYTHING to write about because I know me. If I stop for more than a week I just won't start up again. Days will turn into weeks, weeks into months and before long I won't even be able to remember the password for this site.

The trouble is, I can't think of anything to post about. I'm too busy with work to get into any kind of situation, I've got very boring plans every night and the only really exciting thing that happened to me in the last two days was that I got The Sims 3 yesterday.

So, yes. My life and the observations that go with it are too boring to saddle you with.

Maybe I'll think of something tomorrow.

Ugly Feet

2009-06-19T12:00:00.000-05:00

I have ugly feet. Well, my feet themselves aren't ugly. But the things they do are. They shed a ridiculous amount of skin at all times of the year. They refuse to become smooth and callus-less. They get blisters from my shoes constantly. My toes grow dark black hair. I'll also admit to trimming my toenails down much farther than they should be just because I can.

Honestly, can feet get any more disgusting than that? People wonder why I always wear socks . . .

Surprise!

2009-06-11T12:00:00.000-05:00

So I'm driving around my tiny town looking for a free air pump to fill my tires last night at 10:00 in the evening. I find one, do my thing, buy some gas, flirt harmlessly with the clerk who has sort of adorable cauliflower ears (seriously, it made him look adorable) - all the while checking my blackberry messages in one hand and my personal email on my iPhone in the other. I get back in the car and decide to give the parental units a call.

I call, talk to Daddy, mention that I'll be seeing them on Saturday and how I can't wait. When he says, oh we'll be seeing you sooner than that we're coming up tomorrow.

Uhh - what? Yeah, so they're visiting my youngest sister's new college which is about an hour away from where I live and they'll be staying the night at my house. That's fine normally. I LOVE when they come to visit because they do it so rarely. However, I'm in the middle of several big home projects, haven't cleaned my house in like a month, and need to mow my lawn. Ugh - so I was up until about 1 or 2 last night trying to get at least some semblance of order into my home. I'm also getting off work an hour early in hopes of doing a mad lawn dash to cut down the dandelions.

All I can say is when they get here they better be in a good mood and happy to see me or I'll be busting some heads.

Who's a what now?

2009-06-10T12:00:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been dreading something. I mean really dreading something, enough so that you screen your calls, avoid everything to do with whatever your issue is, get angry, really angry, pout, stomp your foot, justify your avoidance to everyone, even yourself?

Well, I was/did. The funny thing about situations like that, they are never as bad as you know that they will be. In fact, for me they usually turn out better than I could have imagined.

I've always been a pretty lucky person. I'm not saying bad things never happen to me; they do quite often. However, I cannot even think of a time when that bad thing didn't lead to something better.

My sisters had a terrible car accident - we've all grown so much closer and more appreciative of each other.

I'm stuck in a terrible job, while working that job someone comes in and offers me a better one.

My car self-destructs on a 4 lane highway during rush hour - I get myself a brand-spanking new car (with the associated car payments of course. You can't have EVERYTHING)

I become terrified that my SO is getting freaked out about our future, he brings up where we will live when we get married in a few years.

It's a funny kind of life. It's also pretty full of win.

Picture Whore

2009-06-09T12:00:00.000-05:00

I hate having my picture taken. I really, really hate it. I'm a chubby girl, I don't like seeing my double chin in pictures and my hair always look strangely flat. So I avoid them whenever possible.

However, when it comes to pointing a camera at myself and taking MySpace style pictures, I'm all up in that shiz. That picture in my logo - that's a picture of me taking a picture of me through the rearview mirror of my car. I've got pictures of me in my bathroom, in my hallway, on the couch, at the computer. Everywhere.

I take damn good pictures of myself too. You'd think with all of my practice, use of angles, and just knowledge of my body, that I'd be able to at least look like a normal human being in pictures.

Sadly that's just not the case:

See what I mean?

What kind of picture whore can't take a good picture?

Physically and Mentally Well?

2009-06-08T12:00:00.000-05:00

So my iPhone seems to have come through it's traumatic toilet experience with only slight damage. Everything is working perfectly once I unlock the phone. However, when the phone is locked sometimes the screen lights up for no reason and I get a notice about an attachment not meant for the iPhone being plugged in. If those are the only issues I can totally live with that. I'm super grateful because the more I thought about spending $200 on a replacement the more I decided that I couldn't do it. I would have just stopped in at my nearest US Cellular and gone back to life pre-iPhone. It wouldn't have been a fabulous life, but it would have been an adequate one.

I spent my Saturday at a HUGE NHRA (I think those are the initials) Drag Race in Joliet, IL. I got up at 4:00 am, I don't get up at 4:00 am for Christmas so my getting up to go see some cars go fast proves how very in love I am with CG. I wasn't even very grumpy, which I'm pretty sure was a mind over matter thing in that I really don't want anyone to see the real morning "me" until I've got them in a place where they cannot leave me (related by blood or marriage) once they witness the dragon-lady that is me when I don't get my full 8 hours on a normal sleep schedule.

When I got home late that night I was expecting a big Katie (my beagle mix) mess. I was pleasantly surprised. Not only had she refrained from tearing my bathroom to shreds she hadn't had an accident or anything. Wonders never cease.

My Sunday involved my half-assed attempt at cleaning while my mind was screaming "just lay down for a little bit, you deserve a lazy day," sadly by about 4 pm that little voice won out and I spent the rest of the evening watching Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth *insert naughty comment here*. Mr. Darcy is my hero, I would totally smex him up right, but only after I sexored Edmund from Mansfield Park as played by Johnny Lee Miller. *sigh*

Physically Ill

2009-06-04T12:00:00.000-05:00

Everyone who knows me knows how attached I get to inanimate objects. When I get something I hold on to it - FOREVER.

Those porcelain dolls I collected, until a bunch of daycare kids chopped all their hair off and wrote on their faces, making them completely worthless: packed away with special care and stored in my attic.

Those Barbie plastic figures that I got from McDonalds in the early 90's - still got 'em.

All of the save-able flowers that CG (Current Guy) has ever given me - around my home and in my keepsake box.

T-shirts from Middle School - organized by year in my spare closet.

So when I dropped my 1st Gen iPhone in the toilet last night I saw my life flash before my eyes.

If any of my high school friends are reading this you'll remember my sick attachment to my Razor phone. I kept that phone until some asshole stole it and made prank calls to everyone in my phone book. Even then, after I got it back I couldn't part with it, I finally gave it to a cousin who used it until a few months ago.

For two years that iPhone has been my life. I've used it for everything and even when I had no reception (which, although I hate to admit it, was pretty often) I carried it around like a security blanket. I have over 200 pictures on it, tons of music, texts from friends, singing voicemails, email that I only check over the phone.

I'm heartbroken, completely devastated. I know most of my information can be salvaged and there's even a slim chance that my phone will start working again after I give it a few days to dry out.

I'm literally sick just thinking about it. I don't want another 1st Gen, I want MY 1st Gen! *pout*

So I'm praying to the god of technology to save me from myself and from paying $190 for a new phone.

Post Secret

2008-12-01T12:00:00.000-06:00

My favorites and a personal one.
Look up Post Secret for more.

Sad Pandas

2008-03-28T12:00:00.000-05:00

It could be boredom, it could be confusion, it could just be that I don't have a therapist at the moment. Whatever the reason I'm here. I doubt I'll make too many posts as I tend to blog like I live my life. I'm very energetic about it for a few days/weeks and then get bored and go watch tv or play Oblivion.

Yes I'm awesome.

I get super emo a few times a month and like to poke fun of myself whenever it happens.