And I'll Feel Fiiiiiine. Because I'll Be Drunk.

In the long shot case that the Mayans aren't totally full of shit, I plan to spend the next 35-45 hours naked, drunk and aroused as much as possible. I know what you're thinking, "This sounds like a regular Thursday to Friday activity for her." but not necessarily. What I'm thinking is "how am I going to get through that 8:30am job interview bombed?". But that's neither here nor there.

Also, I have a black tie party tomorrow night and my bf has so nicely agreed to pretend it's New Year's Eve at midnight while doing a little private countdown and kiss just in case that's when it's supposed to all go down. If not, I'm slapping his face and stomping on his foot to somehow make him grateful to be alive. He'll laugh or get really pissed, but either way, I survived the Mayan mass death prediction, so I'm basically invincible and don't care.

In other relevant news: I'll be playing every version of this on repeat. Loudly.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzsMB7rgisE

Dave has the right idea here. Because as my bf so eloquently put it with a straight face "That's how I'd like to die. I'd like to come and go. Get it?"  Yes....I get it. And I like where you're going with that.

It's The Little Things!

Here's a list of things I want for Christmas. Or any old time.

1. An envelope of cash. $600 or more. Anything less is unacceptable.

2. To be able to eat all the Edward's key lime pie I can fit in my gullet without getting a huge ass.

3. A full-time writing job that pays like a full-time drug dealing job.

4. For my boyfriend to start wearing a seat belt without me having to tell him. Even when we're going "just around the block" (which isn't true if we're on the freeway)

5. Summer to return. Whenever I choose.

6. Gainful employment. That doesn't make me want to scratch my eyes out.

7. For people to stop using senseless tragedies as a reason to post political drivel on facebook. That's what the elections were for.

8. All the blue cheese and apricots in the world.

9. One of my neighbors to get chickens and put me in charge of egg gathering because I'm obsessed with that chore at the Prairie.

10. A snow cone maker.

11. Shared custody of Winnie.

12. To pick one night a month where my nails get done, my body gets waxed, and my tattoo gets removed while I sleep. (Once the tattoo is gone, replace that with spray tanning)

13. Toned armpits.

14. Sex and the City to start over somehow. No, not The Carrie Diaries.

15. A close friendship with Michelle Obama. Like, where we watch Workaholics and eat Vito's together!

Only 7 more days if you want to get all these under my tree! If you get me all 15, Margarita cones for everyone!!!

I See London, I See Fance

So, yesterday. I get up and I'm fretting about running errands and making it to my lunch date and then up to see the boy in time and if I really need an oil change and what to pack and if I'm going to be getting a call about a job and when my new debit card will show up and what to eat and not be bloated and if Katie will get picked up from school on time all sorts of other bullshit when I stop to get gas.

I'm done pumping and I'm screwing on my gas cap when something moves and catches the corner of my. It's a man going into the Speedway to pay. His body is just half of a torso, arms and his head and he's on a sort of skateboard. As I'm walking to the door he just entered, thoughts start to flood my head like "How is he living? Where are his vital organs, how do they all have room in that space? Does he still need to eat?" and other logistics based nonsense. When I open the door and go in to pay, he's having a discussion with the girl at the counter about how gas prices shot up 20 cents. And instantly, there were no more science-based questions, I just wanted to discuss that too because what the fuck, gas prices, why did you go up? I found it interesting that in one second, my brain went from pity and curiosity over the most obvious subject at hand to empathy and frustration over a shared subject. (Also, I told him gas was always cheapest in Maumee and he said its too inconvenient to drive over the bridge to save 6 cents and I agreed, but that's neither here nor there)

We talked for a second about the area and where he always sees gas prices and on what days and then he headed on out to his big black truck to pump his 60 bucks of diesel. I paid as well and headed back to my car. When I drove away, I waved at him and I was instantly back to thinking about his situation again.

First of all, it gives you a great big ass perspective check on the shit you worry about daily. Even unemployment and searching for the right job seems insignificant compared to having no body below your rib cage. I also wondered if every day he gets up and worries about the looks he'll get or the questions he'll be asked. How inconvenient it is when it rains or snows. But then I started to think to myself "That guy does not seem like the kind of person who goes around each day pissed about what he doesn't have, that's for damn sure". I really started to consider all the things he gets to know with his hands that the rest of us rarely do if at all.

What's it like to touch pavement on a sunny day and feel that warmth straight out of your air conditioning. What spring grass feels like in your hands in the morning with dew still on it. The crunchiness of gravel. The cool smooth of ceramic tile. The temperature of a summer mud puddle. The crumple of fall leaves when they get to that papery stage on the ground. The seem on a curb where the concrete is molded together. The graininess of different threads of carpeting. The powdery, fluffy, wonderful feeling of light snow on top of biting cold black ice.

I no longer wanted to meet him again to ask him where his stomach is located. I wanted to inquire about all of those things. Things that I now want to randomly touch when I get the chance because my curiosity is peaked in an envious way rather than a pity party or logical way.

And maybe how often he sneaks a peek up skirts or smirks about men who refuse to take the time to match their socks, but then again, that's neither here nor there. :)

Nobody Likes An Over-Sugared Infant

It's been a real week!

I don't even make time for this blog and I just started a new one for the magazine. It's time to get real and begin making my love of writing and all things creative and my love of gainful employment start sleeping in the same bed together. Right now, they have a sort of bunk bed situation going on and that's just not good enough. I'm thinking of sticking them in a nice queen size... maybe I'll toss them a few beers first... light a sultry-scented candle. Before you know it, their feet will touch, then perhaps their hands. Someone dares the other to spoon them and that's all she wrote! Well, figuratively. Literally, it should be the beginning of some writing, but now we're just splitting hairs.

One day, I hope they make a sexy decision, get it on, and the baby they produce is a paycheck for doing something I really enjoy and feel good about at the same time. But not too good, I'd like there to be an element of naughtiness. Like I'm slowly, nonchalantly walking away with a baby's candy or something, you know?

That baby has already had too much sugar anyway. Plus, I haven't had lunch.

Election Shmellelection

I know I should be blogging about being a Democrat and women's and gay rights and all things good in the world and how the country will burn down in flames if Mitt wins and all that legit jazz, but three things are fact right now.

1. I'm lazy. I should also be looking for jobs. And I can't even bother to really type a body to this blog; it's a copy/paste hack job that's all over the place! I'll try to mix some politics in if I can.
2. I have been writing for The Loop for days straight now so I wanted some nonsense time with these itchy fingertips.
3. I don't feel the angst I should about the world because I'm happily dating.

On the other hand, I feel quite a bit of emo angst about that because I have been trying to teach myself not to count my chickens before they hatch regarding boys and happiness. (or before the pound dog eats them. Sorry, inside joke) But you know what? Fuck those chickens. I'm going to count every last one of them over and over and will them into existence for a little while. I'm going to sing to them and shine a light on them and if they hatch, great! Hey guys, look at all these chickens! If they don't, God makes more chickens. Unlike glaciers, when the Republicans ignore the environment and they melt and the oceans flood and shit, there will definitely be more chickens. (see what I did there?)

The only way to get rid of chicken loss (and terrible foreign policy) fear is to be inspired. And the only way for me to get inspired sometimes is through song. I was leaning toward Sara Evans "As If" regarding my little chickens (who are unfortunately Conservative, yet understanding that I'm liberal), but nobody screams hope (and forward-moving America and health care reform) like... Taylor Swift. Plus, the second I heard the line start "on a Wednesday, in a cafe" I teared up. Because that's exactly the day it happened. (also the day we'll learn who won the election, so that's convenient)

Also, I hope if Obama is reelected, he makes the same surprised face that Taylor Swift makes when she wins awards, but that's neither here nor there. Just enjoy these lyrics that make me smile and please send your good vibes to my chickens. (and go vote tomorrow. Unless you're a Republican. In that case just stay home and eat pancakes.)

Took a deep breath in the mirror
He didn't like it when I wore high heels
But I do
Turned the lock and put my headphones on
He always said he didn't get this song
But I do, I do

Walked in expecting you'd be late
But you got here early and you stand and wave
I walk to you
You pull my chair out and help me in
And you don't know how nice that is
But I do

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid
I think it's strange that you think I'm funny cause he never did
I've been spending the last 8 months
Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end
But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

He said he never met one girl
Who had as many James Taylor records as you
But I do
We tell stories and you don't know why
I'm coming off a little shy
But I do

But you throw your head back laughing like a little kid
I think it's strange that you think I'm funny cause he never did
I've been spending the last 8 months
Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end
But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

And we walked down the block to my car and I almost brought him up
But you start to talk about the movies that your family watches
Every single Christmas and I won't talk about that
And for the first time, what's past is past

Cause you throw your head back laughing like a little kid
I think it's strange that you think I'm funny cause he never did
I've been spending the last 8 months
Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end
But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again

I know

I'm just blogging to say I know I should be blogging more. But I'm riding a wave of hardcore happiness right now that doesn't leave a lot of time time for writing. And I actually have a job writing. Yay, happiness!! Fucking up all the other shit and making us not care!

Just A Thought

The saying goes a little something like "If you love someone, let them go. If they come back to you, they're yours forever".

But, perhaps it should go "If someone fucks up bigtime and sucks, tell them to get lost and disappear. If they come back, they're probably just temporarily bored and want to see if you'll pay attention to them again".

It's like I'm Oprah. If Oprah made spectacularly idiotic life choices and loved Busch Light.

This Blog Is Sort Of.... The Lube 419.

You might guess that I didn't just rub Vaseline all over my body post-shower like it was regular old lotion.... but you'd be wrong. And wouldn't YOU feel silly.

In other, more relevant news: THE LOOP 419 IS NOW IN PRINT!! (Also, http://theloop419.com/) I'm a semi-legit writer now. It used to be I'd write to get where I was going... I never thought it would take me anywhere.

(If you don't know what movie that slightly altered quote is from, you should probably stop life and don't come back to this blog until you figure it out)

Can You Believe Heidi And Seal Are Splitsville? Me Either!

Right before I go on a date, especially one with a stranger, I like to Pin my ass off on Pinterest and look at a gossip site.

Several reasons:

1. I can say "Oh, I cook this all the time" when we order something because I know I just pinned a recipe similar to it. Lying is key. Especially to strangers.

2. I see 34,781 wedding photos. This gets my head right. Be the ball, Danny.

3. I have already lied out about 6 different hideous outfits. I can pin a few that I like and turn around and pick something similar out of my closet that doesn't scream "I'M NERVOUS! AND CAN'T DECIDE WHICH PERSONALITY TO CONVEY TO YOU! ALSO, I HAVE LOTS OF T-SHIRTS."

4. Maybe he knows about and wants to discuss Miley's haircut.

5. He definitely knows about and maybe wants to discuss Kate Middleton's nudie shots.

6. Pinning, for me, is the equivalent of talking out loud. If I went ape shit on Autumn recipes and emo quotes, maybe I won't spin out of control, seemingly trying to reach some daily word quota with this dude.

7. He looks a little like James Van Der Beek. I have to see pics of JVDB to judge if he looks enough like him that I'm willing to let a racist comment or 2 slide.

8. I feel slightly cultured when I look at thumbnails of Greece and the Maldives. Enough to say "I'd like to visit Greece. And the Maldives"

9. If he's boring as shit, I can silently get myself excited to come home and learn more about that yummy looking breakfast casserole.

10. Pinning is less sweaty than jacking off. For the most part.

Small Half Yelp Sort of Moan or Gasp Noise. Also Referred To As "Steve Noise"

I will blog (probably, if I don't get too lazy or "busy") more about camping later, but for now I just wanted to throw out into the world that I was cleaning up the camp site, while the boys slept and the fried mushroom lover was using the bathroom, and I turned around to a snake crawling straight on through the very place where we had all been partying just a few precious hours earlier.

I didn't scream. I didn't faint. I didn't run. Huge strides have clearly been made in the war against being a huge pussy.

Go me!

Fuck, I Miss Living At Home. FREE FOOD.

So, I try to use this blog for good more than evil, but there are times when I can just not resist. It's the only place besides the bar I release my filter even a little anymore as an "adult".

I know a girl who recently left home in dramatic fashion at 18 to go live with her 23 year old boyfriend in his mom's house. This is typical behavior in the lands around my hometown. In fact, my friends and I actually go in search of facebook pages that are left open to the public describing these events in amazing ghetto lingo we like to call "tawkin". We make fun of them, hash out how and when the babydaddy will show back up, predict their future and ultimately...feel better about our own lives. It's a real treat. (Anything other than working AT work usually is) Anyhoo, this particular girl's life has been very different from the typical trashmonsters posting this rubbish. A lot more money and a new car since she was 16. Not too shabby. This was her boyfriend's recent facebook status.

"I may not be going to college or have gone to college but I do have a PhD its called a working mans PhD witch has taught me the value of dollar and that's why I have what I have and don't rely on my parents for everything witch makes them more proud of me that I dont rely on them. Also I love my girlfriend (whose name I shall leave out of the blog) :)" (<---- but that smiley face was real and stays put)

I will make the following statements and readers can be the judge.

1. I don't think this guy is a "bad person". Which my readers know is the worst thing I think you can say about someone. I think he's young and dumb and going through an emotionally idiotic time. We've all been there. For me, it was called 18-30.

2. He lives with his girlfriend in his mother's house.

3. His girlfriend's parents still pay for her cell phone, medical insurance, medicine, etc.

4. His girlfriend drives his car or his mom's car to wherever she needs to go.

5. His girlfriend is not currently employed by a business.

6. Someone pays for his girlfriend's food, the roof she lives under, clothing, toiletries, and future schooling.

7. Among other things, he does not understand the use of "which" from "witch". And I don't think you're a self-made man at 23 when your mom still does your laundry. (just my personal opinion there)

7.5 He did not need that second reiteration that he doesn't rely on his parents. It made it even more evident.

8. This was one incredible run on sentence. And here's my biggest point: I'm not even judging. I still get help from my parents and I'm a grown-ass woman. I don't look down upon those who take what their parents offer, especially when their parents have more than most. I do hope they don't abuse it. What I really don't think this guy realizes is that he gave an inadvertent Tyson-style uppercut to his girlfriend in that status. She depends on everyone for almost everything right now. And rightly so, she's 18, but believes she's totally independent, which is a hoot! When I first read it, I actually thought he was bashing the shit out of her via social network by calling her out and then saying he loved her at the end. Like "My parents are proud of me. I can totally take care of myself, but everyone has to take care of you. Oh, but I love you, smiley face for added sarcasm"

That... honestly would have made more sense.

Oh, to be young again! Sweet youth and the brawny, righteous power of the internet! Hold on to that self-assuredness now, Philosophy Doctor Working Man. Because someday, you will look back on this time and cringe. At least I hope you do.

And PS, no. I can't understand why my fonts magically change and refuse to change back after I copy and paste from somewhere else. I would ask my parents, but I want them to be proud that I eventually figure it out on my own. If I ever do. Which is doubtful. Sorry, mom and dad. I love you. :(

Tacky Tent Toast

Let's raise a glass,

And drink to the lass,

Whose name is Christine Gose.

She belittled our tent,

Which she gave up for Lent,

To stop us, she was not close.

Though she talked a big game,

And said our beer tent was oh-so-lame,

But to capacity this bitch is so close.

So stick it in your ass

This tent's got class

In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

-Allan Presley, Poet Laureate of the Marcellus Bluegill Frolic

What's The Time? It's Time To Get GILL.

You know what time it is?? NO? That's because you only know or care if you're from Marcellus, Michigan. IT'S BLUEGILL FROLIC TIME, YA'LL!!!

Can't wait for church fish fry, fire station chicken, corn dogs galore, elephant ears til vomit threatens to ruin the party, then spending at least a half a week's pay on beer tent tickets. I haven't entered the arm wrestling competition yet, but that's because I don't want people to start training harder, Rocky montage style, sensing my arrival.

And the most important part of it all; enjoying smiles, hugs, gut-crushing laughter and hardcore baby lovins with my friends and family for a whole weekend while celebrating the town that made us who we are. Or aren't (in a good way). Man...what a difference a year can make. I am one happy little hillbilly!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaAAD6YA1wc

This should help you get in the mood to frolic!!

Gold Medal Abs, Motherfuckers

Whenever I talk about the rock-hard, megahuge boner Ryan Lochte gives me, men feel the need to say shit like "You know he's dumb, right? Like... not just dumb, but maybe literally has-severe-brain-trauma-fucking-dumb". It's not just one person either, if there's a group of guys, they'll ban together to let me know how Ryan Lochte's brain just isn't up to snuff. One guy actually brought up videos on youtube to show me just how ridiculous I am for professing my eye lust for Lochte.

Um.... so? If his brain has whatever those little dips are called between the hip and tummy, then he's a GD GENIUS in my book.

MENSA called. They want their hearts back. You know? Because he stole them. So they let him in. Just... never mind. All my blood is flowing to other parts.

Every Siren Is A Symphony

My dreams have been even more cray than usual lately. Being me, I can't help but read into them.

Night before last, some sort of pushy mafia STEPS TO THIS and tries to force me to to give them things I don't owe them. Then they take it to the next level, and I have to run out of a house in semi-formal wear, dragging a little girl that belongs to that family with me to save her from them. Just as I start to get her to safety, I turn to see them REALLY ratchet up the crazy and kill a pregnant lady with a machine gun. I basically turned on the wheels at that point and damn near pulled the little girl's arm out of the socket running away with her. When I realize there's not enough places for us to hide, I skid out around the corner of a house, drop down and pull up a few pieces of lattice that close in the underside of a deck, shove her through the hole and crawl in after her hoping nobody saw us. I tell her she has to be as quiet as possible and we're not moving until they're all gone. Then I wake up. WTF.

There are several different ways to break this monstrosity down right now, but I'm not going to into them. I was just pumped as fuck at how well I could run in heels, how heroic I was to actually save someone else besides myself, and how smart was to think to hide where city woodchucks do.

Last night. The dream actually starts out hilariously. Somehow, I'm extremely good friends with the Kardashian sisters. (Khloe obvs being my fave) I have to go to some sort of family picnic with them. On the way to said picnic, they explain to me I have to meet and make friends with their surrogate father (besides Bruce?) who happens to be Larry David. Oh, and they call him Lawrence. Upon arrival at the party, they have made their hellos and I spot Larry. I introduce myself while calling him Larry, and after he compliments my outfit and actually say "you're killing it", he has the nuts to correct me and say "No, it's Lawrence for these girls". Then I turn around and I somehow have the bigger nuts to say "I'm not one of these girls." Then I smile my best "sorry I'm not sorry, motherfucker" smile and stride out of there. For no reason at all. The poor guy just wanted to be called Lawrence. What is my problem?

Khloe wasn't even mad though. (duh) She and I end up back at some apartment, and we're having a grand old time. A guy I may or may not be sweet on shows up. For some odd reason, we start to have these extremely physical competitions involving very elaborate obstacle courses. Feats of strength! It's all too complicated to try to describe, but it ends with us sprinting out toward this cliff that you can't actually tell is a cliff. Before I know it, he's leapt off and I'm right behind him. And I don't just jump, I jump off that mofo like I'm about to take flight. Then... I look down. And it flashes through my brain that I'm far too high to survive the impact to the water. But I pedal my legs and wave my arms to give me optimal chance for landing without shattering my life and at the last second, I flex my legs straight down and grasp my nose as hard as I can like I'm a veteran member of the Coast Guard. I plunge into the water... and smile. A big huge smile that I was probably embarrassingly doing in my sleep. I unfurl and kick my way back up to the surface. When I arrive, the intro to Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall by Coldplay starts blasting, (yes, I'm so weird, my brain scored and soundtracked my own dream) my face is no longer one of shock, it has morphed into a sly grin of "yeah, meh, I jump off shit like that all the time." and he doesn't seem surprised at all. He's pleasantly looking at me as if he had no doubt I would make that jump flawlessly. The music quiets a little, then he suggests we swim across the cold, choppy, grey channel we're currently treading water in because "I'm hungry, do you want to get lunch or something?". Of course I want lunch. Thanks for asking. Paddle paddle kick kick.

I have no idea what any of that means.... but

Maybe I'm in the black, maybe I'm on my knees
Maybe I'm in the gap between the two trapezes
But my heart is beating and my pulses start
Cathedrals in my heart

Now that song will be in my head all day.

Oh, You Won A Gold Medal? I Got Sunflowers for TWO DOLLARS

So. No big deal. Just walking around the Perrysburg Farmer's Market in my US Soccer shirt, carrying my adorbs red flowery umbrella while it sprinkles. You know, just mixing it up, talking to florists, farmers, bread bakers. Telling them I need their cards because I'd like to write about them for a new local publication. Just feeling cultured as shit and happy as a little bird in a puddle. Bought some sunflowers and tuberose for Kate Spade (new name for twin set) who is sick. As usual. Smelling them and singing all the way to her apartment as the clouds part and the rain clears up.

Just chilling on her couch now. Breeze blowing through the screen. Discussing dudes. Sharing stories. Giggling. Crushing.

Fuck yeah, life. I'm livin' you! Livin' you goooood.

Friends Listen to Gavin DeGraw in the Dark....

I. Absolutely. Love. This. Summer. Pretty much everything about it. Hence, why I am not writing much. I have a lot to write about, there aren't enough hours in the day (or night, wink wink) to fit it all in, but I'm also writing magazine articles for The Loop, so... that's really the only time I designate to thinking in the editorial sense. I'm jotting things down in my little silky book in my purse, or on random post its, or I'll laugh and beg someone to facebook message me to "hahah remind me i'mma blog about that shit!" from a bar or patio. Then I'll just... go on living my life.

I figured I had to get something down tonight as every other night of this week (and pretty much all of August) is planned out. CTL is taking me to Gavin DeGraw tomorrow, Thursday night dinner and article meeting, Friday Linny or HB make outs or scouting. Saturday Northview. Sunday fishing... the list goes on. It's bad enough I'm simultaneously watching PLL and doing this! That's double dipping at it's finest. I just have no empty time on my hands...

And I couldn't be more happy about it.

This Is Extremely Beautiful. And Very True.

I Sorta Miss Blogging. Let's Update.

The feel of grass under my feet. The feel of a dog licking my face. The sound of crickets at night. The look of a pretty color on my toenails. The satisfaction after working out. The excitement of finding adorable shoes on clearance. The crunch of sweet corn in my mouth. The release after a huge laugh. The anticipation before a date. The cuteness of a new friend's hug. The comfort of an old friend's hug. The wind across my shoulders with the windows down on a drive. The glee of spotting a woodchuck standing up in the weeds. The feel of rain on my skin after a hot week. The smell of the corn field on a humid night. The pop of a gun as I fire off a shot. The smell of steak on the grill. The feel of accomplishment after yard work. The feel of satin on my skin after a shower. The warmth of a great snuggle. The ahhhh of the first drink of cold beer after spicy food.

Damn, it has been a great summer so far.

Let It All Go

Put your hands in the water
Watch them go under
Put your hands to the light
Watch the light come through
And I will let you go
And I will let you go

Put your time on the table
See who'll sit down with you
Give your love to the ones
Who offer you bruise
After bruise, after bruise
And I will let you go
And I will let you go
And I will let you go

How we play fight
As we dance slow
The smile you make
Saying yes meaning no
Is so grey, so faint
The words stray in your mouth
With an ache

I'm standing in water
With the light on my shoulder
The weight of the doubt
Turned me to glass
I'm through living in question
Dreaming the answers
No more paving the present
With pain from my past
And I will let you go
And I will let you go
And I will let you go
And I will let you go

Dear Readers,

All 2.5 of you.  I have no idea why some blogs are posting, then disappearing. Or why certain blogs are telling me they are posted and then showing up at different times. Probably the same reason my phone is only accepting about 3/4 of the texts sent to me, giving me picture texts sometimes a week later, my facebook is continuously telling me I have a new message in my inbox and my Skype sometimes runs in slow motion:

I'M AWESOME AT TECHNOLOGY. Life is full of challenges, let's just embrace this together.

RIP MCA

A few years ago, I was dating a guy. (I know, weird.) I don't know if we were out on a date or on the phone, but at some point early on, we had a conversation about childhood and music. I told him a story about the first albums my sister and I bought. One of if not the first album my sister purchased was Beastie Boys Licensed To Ill.

At the time, I was pretty busy grooving to Phil Collins, Chicago 17 and Lionel Richie. And loving it. Then I heard Paul Revere blasting out of our dining room. I was entranced. Our parents exposed us to plenty of different music, but I really had never heard rap. My sister listened to RATT, and Dokken on the reg, for crying out loud, I had no idea what the hell she was doing with this record. Though, there was a rock edge to it. And borderline pop. It was dreamy. I wanted it. I wanted every song to play all the time. (My parents, and definitely my grandparents, disagreed.)

I told this boy this story. About how I fell in love with the Beasties and those songs that I was listening to still sounded brand new when I later bought them on cassette and then again on CD. And then again on CD when that first CD had a tragic accident in a friend's Ford Escort. I told him I was still always jealous that she had that record. She got to tear the plastic off a brand new Beastie Boys Licensed to Ill vinyl and I knew my parents wouldn't let us both have it, that we would have to share, and my sister shared her records about as well as she shared the hidden booze in her room or her Van Halen posters.

A few weeks after we had this little exchange, I went to see him and as we were walking up to his place, he said "its here! close your eyes". He had a present for me. I closed my eyes and sat down and he handed me a large, flat, padded envelope. I had no idea what it was and when I tore it open and pulled out a Beastie Boys Licensed to Ill album, I screamed. I held it back, because I didn't want to look like a lunatic, but I really wanted to cry holding that thing. It represented more than something I wanted when I was a little girl. It was like holding a piece of my childhood that survived the wildfire that growing up spreads across the landscape of your life.

That album is now displayed in my room on my bookshelf to remind me of great things. The music on it, my childhood envy and awe, and the fact that boys actually listen sometimes. I need to frame it, but I love picking it up and handling it every once in a while.

Just like I did every time Jennifer wasn't looking. :)

20 Reason To Watch Roadhouse.

Dalton stitches his own shoulder. Shirtless guy dancing at Double Deuce. There's chicken wire to protect the band. Who's lead singer is a blind slide guitar player. Mullets galore. Dalton doesn't fly. But he does wear mock turtlenecks. Giant bar fight. The Doc's hair. Brad Wesley's 3 wheeler. Monster truck. Guy with the cross earring. That knows pool stick martial arts. Sam Elliot is "the best". And has long hair. The strip tease that included matching satin heels and ended in giant white panties. The half-face shiner that followed. The aerobics being done while "hiding" said shiner. Full blown 80's sex scene. Sooooooo many roundhouses.

What are the chances that a guy wearing a silk blazer with shoulder pads is going to kick ass?

150 fucking percent!

Duck, Duck, Dead Cat

I'm leaving the house last night to have a cocktail. I'm heading up the street from my house and I see something moving across it in the darkness. I can tell it's a living creature and it's low to the ground, but taller in the front and sort of waving in the back. The first thing I think is "Oh gross. One of the little lacrosse bullies (my neighborhood child gang) has a huge pet lizard the scaled bastard is on the loose!", but as I get closer, I recognize the tall part of the reptile beast. It's not a lizard at all, or even one animal. It's a mama duck leading a trail of 4 babies across the street in the night. I damn near explode with happiness.

I cover my mouth as I'm squealing. I consider canceling drinks so I can follow them around to see they make it safely somewhere. I grip my door handle thinking I'll just get out and scoop them up and make them pets. I consider going back to my house to make giant signs to place around the neighborhood reading SLOW! WE HAVE DUCKS!, but I decide these are all bad ideas that would most likely frighten the babies and get the mama to beak me to death.

I end up having a few drinks, but can barely concentrate on anything BUT those damn ducks. On my way home, I drive painfully slow just in case. As I pull in my driveway, I see one of the cats that lives in the neighborhood in the driveway next door. Normally, I'm trying to save them or the raving mad Pomeranian that apparently keeps escaping from one of my neighbors, but let's face it... baby ducks > cats.

I need some meow mix and rat poison. Kidding! Or am I.....

Lifening

A hand upon my foreheadA joke and then a laughWaking up in your armsA place to call my own
This is all I ever wanted from lifeThis is all I ever wanted from lifeThis is all I ever wanted from life
Ireland in the World CupEither North or SouthThe fan club on the jukeboxThe birds and yes the bees
This is all I ever wanted from lifeThis is all I ever wanted from lifeThis is all I ever wanted from life
Words of reassuranceBut only if they're trueJust some simple kindnessNo vengeance from the Gods
This is all I ever wanted from lifeThis is all I ever wanted from lifeThis is all I ever wanted from life
To share what I've been givenSome kids eventuallyAnd be for them what I've hadA father like my dad
This is all I ever wanted from lifeThis is all I ever wanted from lifeThis is all I ever wanted from life
To share what I've been given

It's The Little Things

I don't think anyone can understand how happy I am that:

1. JVDB is back on TV. And on a show I totes heart.

2. My yard, house and armpits (combo of Old Spice and slight BO) smell of summertime coming.

3. My roommate and I now regularly talk to each other like Muppets.

Except you, blog readers. You always get me.

Science And Progress Do Not Speak As Loud As My Heart

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start
Running in circles, coming up tails
Heads on a science apart

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to the start.

Daaaaaamn, He Fine

When people don't get my James Van Der Beek (JVDB) obsession, I wonder, sometimes silently, sometimes loudly, what the fuck is wrong with them.

He's the perfect combination of boy and man! He looks great in a tux. He looks great in a t-shirt. He appears to have the ideal amount of chest hair. Not so much he's a gorilla, but not so little you wonder if it's plugs. He likes redheads, he makes cute babies. He has mischievously squinty eyes on top of artfully crafted face scruff, for God's sake!

I'm a fan of 3 things in a dude:

1. Blue Eyes

2. Proper Grammar (knowing the difference between 'your' and 'you're' will do)

3. And the ability to consistently make me laugh without annoying the shit out of me in the process.

If you have all of these things (and you are also handsome and old enough to legally buy me an alcoholic drink), I will go on at least one date with you.

JVDB not only possesses all of these qualities, but he was also Dawson and Mox. One guy pined after his childhood love for most of his life, but then bedded the sassy cougar, the other was stand-up enough to resist the whip cream bikini to keep his nerd girlfriend and then spit out "I don't want your life" to his coach (or dad, I can't remember) and I believed him! I believed he didn't want that life! And now, he has a new career out of making fun of his old, successful career.... the man is a genius!

As far as I'm concerned, if he doesn't wear all-white tennis shoes, beat her (where bruises show) or constantly ask for hand jobs when she's SO tired, his wife is the luckiest girl on planet Earth. That Bitch.

I mean... come on, man... he's dreamy as all hell...

Aaaand This Just Became A Dream Journal

I sold my LA apartment and cried. My mom, Grandparents and friend Tyler came to help me move. I assigned Tyler to carry the heavy 70's style TV complete with decorative wood casing, but then decided I didn't need it. He was useless (as always). As I cried to my old lady landlord that I loved living there and felt very safe, I asked her if she had any buildings in Chicago I should check out. She said yes, and Brooklyn, and for a split second I thought to myself "Brooklyn? Maybe I want to move there instead?".

Next thing I know, my bed is still intact and I'm making out with Justin Timberlake and its headed STRAIGHT for sexual intercourse. He's much less smooth and commanding as I thought he would be in the bedroom. He's sort of the TJ I remember from working on NSync videos, but with even less swag. And.... and incredibly weird shaped penis. I'm shocked, but I decide to just keep going because.. meh, it's JT. This isn't going anywhere, just enjoy his FutureLoveSexSounds and go on with life. When he asks for a condom, I secretly think "is it even going to work on that weird ass thing?" but again, I proceed. Just as it's about to happen, I hear this incredibly weird noise and JT looks up in shock at some weird midget outside my window that just looked in and moved on. Out loud I say "I'm really going to miss LA" and we go on about our business. I don't really remember the actual act or him leaving so we're probably still in a relationship in dreamland.

Next thing I know, I'm holding a baby, he loudly shits in my arms. I sigh and say "This kid just filled his pants". He now has a baby nurse and she's anxiously staring him down because she wants to take him and fix the stink problem, but I sort of gently yank him back and say "I've got it, I've changed thousands of diapers." almost rudely because I'm annoyed she's even there. I cart him away upstairs to get him fresh buns before he realizes he's chilling is his own excrement and tries to cry about it. Next thing I know, his mother is behind me saying she can't wait to see how weirded out I get by this as if I haven't been changing shitty diapers since 6th grade. (yeah, I had to take care of babies before I ever kissed a boy, foreshadowing anyone??) I ask her how that's even possible and she says "Because you've changed mostly girls, he has actual balls." I lie him down, look down at his still smiling face and say to her "If you can handle the adult kind, the baby kind should be a breeze" and I get down to business. Meanwhile, my non-boyfriend is busy telling me to hurry up because it's time to go drink and I tell him "JUST GO WITHOUT ME!" and I have no idea why I'm being so rude, but it doesn't help because all he does is leave the room and start calling my phone to say the same thing. I look down at the STILL smiling babyface and say "maybe he needs his shitty pants changed too. But more violently". The baby enjoys this and claps.

The baby nurse comes in and looks down and me while I all-too-loudly say "All done!" in her face. While standing the baby up to do some assisted walking.

And that's the kind of dreams you have when you eat McDonald's, frozen pizza and Hibachi all in one day, folks. I'm going to keep that pattern up!

Rando Commando

1. Whenever I watch Steel Magnolias, I get the urge to move to a small Southern town, adopt a drawl, marry the first nice guy available and start popping out fat babies while I stay perfectly slim.

2. So, basically, someone pitched "I want to do the movie Taken, but with a woman looking for her son and in a tv show instead of a movie and call it Missing" and someone said "Yeah!"

3. I'm VERY excited for Spring. Today was one of those warm, breezy, happy days where you think anything and everything is possible and you just know great things are coming blah blah blah. I haven't seen a robin or a woodchuck yet, but the sun warmed my smiley little face all day long and I can smell rain in the air so good enough. For now.

4. Books: I just finished reading Water For Elephants and I am SO said it's over. I can't find my copy of Hunger Games to re-read it before seeing the movie. Not amused by that. Have no idea who I loaned it to. I'm also a tad miffed that the movie The Lorax is now some sort of comedy.... that book is not a comedy.

5. If strawberries and bananas were so meant to be together, which they clearly are, why do they grow in different regions of the world? I want a strawberry patch and a banana tree in my back yard, dammit!

Leeniekins

When we were 6, I loved her long braid. Pretty sure she was the only one of all the girls I know that never got head lice from the scummies in elementary.

When we were 8, I was so jealous she won a pink cake with sprinkles at a school fundraiser. Which was great, because she had cut that braid off and was having a bad day.

When we were 10, I moved near her and we got to ride the same bus. She would come to my house and we'd build forts. We would sled for hours on end. We would explore all around the fields, jumping on round bales and once we snuggled down between them thinking that would be a pretty awesome fort spot until she jumped out and started rolling around on the ground. I was asking her what was wrong and as she was scrambling away on hands and knees yelling "MOUSE!" I saw the scared little thing climb out of her snow boot and run back into the safety of the bale.

When we were 11, we ran through the woods at 6th grade camp at night and she hurt her ankle. I remember being happy my Dad had showed up to stay the 2nd half of the week. But after camp, I got taken to a new house because my Mom and Dad had separated.

When we were 12, she held me while I sat crying when my Dad told me he he was marrying someone else.

When we were 13, she would sit with me laughing and gossiping about boys while I flushed my feeding tube out and mixed up my powder for that night's intake.

When we were 14, she was the first person I asked to be brought to the hospital after my surgery. She sat in my hospital room and told me all about what was going on at school.

When we were 15, she was my driver's ed partner. Even though I had to sit on a pillow to see and be able to reach the pedals at the same time, she wasn't that scared to ride with me.

When we were 16, I snuck out of a house for my first time with her. And she always went out last and back in first in case we got caught. She was a sneaking whiz.

When we were 17, she was the first call I made when I lost my virginity. 5 minutes after the act.

When we were 18, we got in a borderline fist fight on a football field. We certainly did have our share of disagreements over the years.

When we were 20, I was at her house when my Mom tracked me down to tell me my Grandma had died after surgery. And she held me again crying on her kitchen floor and rushed me to the bathroom to throw up.

When I was 21, she bought me my first birthday shot.

We are 35. She is still around. We haven't run through woods in a while, but she still buys me shots. And the last time I told her I was going to cry, we were in Whole Foods and she looked at me with such profound sadness and I knew if I had, she would have held me right there in front of the bakery counter.

She is tried and true. There is not one thing I can't share with her. She's right there to support me or tell me I'm crazy or tell me she thinks I'm wrong, but whatever her opinion, she has always delivered it with love and compassion. (accept the time she punched me in the head) Even when going through a hard time herself, she's there to cheer me on and help me out in any way she can.

She's always up for an adventure or she's always up to stay in and laugh til all hours of the night. But the most important thing is she's always there. She is tried and true, that's for damn sure.

And she's a birthday girl tomorrow. I love you, Leenie. You have made this a thoroughly enjoyable 35 years and I hope I've done the same for you.

MIRACLE ALERT

Several miracles have happened within the last 24 hours:

1. I went to the bar on a week night after 8pm. And I may make it 2 in a row. I don't want to call it a res-erection (see what I did there?) or anything, but I'm feeling it. One can only act their age for so long.

2. Speaking of my age, a man slightly over my age introduced himself to me and then asked my friends about me after I bounced from the bar. This has never happened in Ohio. Ever. Not anyone within 5 years of my age ever hits on me. I mean, he's 40 so borderline elderly and about to die in my eyes, (or he probably thinks I'm 25) so nothing may come of it, but its still a milestone. And he's a doctor. Not even "in sales" as all 40 year olds in Ohio are.

3. I successfully opened a bottle of wine, all by myself, without the cork getting broken in half or shredded into approximately 67 pieces. No wonder that old man thinks I'm hot, I finally became a real woman!

4. I found my checkbook. hahahah checks! Who even uses those anymore?? I also found my 2 little Kermits and almost cried. They have been "missing" in my closet for a long time. I love those little green bastards and now they sit in my room next to my perfume and say good day to me.

5. Today I saw Burger Lady not only bring snacks and a normal lunch of sandwich, pudding and chips instead of utilizing her premium membership at Arby's, but this food included AN APPLE. I wonder if handling a raw piece of fruit made her feel like she was bonding with nature in the most intimate way. Now, she may have just stolen a 5th grader's lunch, but hopefully not. Hopefully she's turning a new corner. Before you know it, she and I will be swapping quinoa recipes on Pinterest!

Or she'll just keep on hating me. But, you never know!

Balls. I Forgot A Big One..

35.5 Pray. Pray all the time. Small prayers, big prayers. Whether it's that Crosby is injury free, or you wake up from your surgery, or your Dad drives safe at night, or your little sister is happy and healthy, for strength to cope with stress, or the sandwich artist at Subway just sneezed on your sub from allergies and not the flu... pray. To whoever or whatever makes you feel stronger or connected. Pray.

And pray that I don't fall down drunk tonight on the streets. That's always a good one to start with.

I'm Not Aware Of Too Many Things. I Know What I Know If You Know What I Mean

People keep asking me if I feel any older now that I'm 35. Not in the slightest. I mean, aside for the dull pain of my bones turning to dust, but that's pretty manageable. I don't know if I have anything real to share, or if I've learned anything valuable. But here are some pearls for your smarts necklace.

1. Save your money. Every little bit (or big bit) you can. Because whether you need it for a surgery or a last minute Mexico drunkfest, you'll never miss all that other dumb shit you bought with it.

2. You are what you eat. You actually are. Eat well. If you think your body runs pretty awesome on McDonald's and pasta, wait til you put some vegetables and water in it. You won't regret it. Sure, treat yourself. Just don't treat yourself with shit for years at a time.

3. Hair is flammable. Extremely. Fucking. Flammable. All the hair on your body. Please be careful in college.

4. If you think guys love bitches, it's because they do. But if you think being a bitch to control a guy's mind will make you happy, underneath, it won't. And you'll become as uncaring about everything as you are about him. Don't be pathetic, have your self respect, but be nice. Care. And if he wants someone else because they're a "better challenge", then let him go. And burn his fucking clothes.

5. Find something that soothes you. Music, art, reading, movies, yoga, whatever. Have something that you can do all by yourself that makes and keeps you calm. You will need it in times of loneliness or anger.

6. Find something that inspires and excites you. And do that. Often. If you can make money off of it, awesome. But don't turn it into something that exists to provide your living. Keep it fun.

7. When you fuck up, and you will, just learn to say you're sorry. Even if it wasn't your fault, even if there's an explanation, just say it. There is a difference between being a martyr and taking responsibility to move forward. People just want to hear that you're sorry. They like that in their ears.

8. Get buck wild. Find one, unconditional, solid, North Star of a friend to hold your kite string tight and just fucking go for it. I'm not talking drugs and prostitution (necessarily), and remember there are people on the planet that look up to you, don't do it in front of them, but have some fun. Have a lot of fucking fun.

9. Don't give so much of a shit what people think and say. Who the fuck do they think they are anyway?

10. It's never a bad idea to keep a clean pair of underwear around. Glove compartment, purse, trunk. Because you may get your unexpectedly early lady time. Or hook up some night. Orrrr you may shit yourself.

11. Tell people THANK YOU. Get them little gifts, send them a card, text, email, whatever. Appreciation is underrated. Even when it's random.

12. Have one person you can tell absolutely every single thing to and hear every single thing from. If they still like you and you still like them, this is your best friend. Hold on to them. Make many friends, but keep this one close.

13. Play. Play a sport, play an instrument, play the stock market, play cards, play board games, play hide and seek, wrestle around. And do one, more or all of these your whole life. Keep a playing mind and body.

14. Seduce someone. Learn the power of your sexuality so you know how to wield it mercifully.

15. Experiment. Dabble. Eat weird food, do weird things, be friends with weird people. Diversity is very good for the soul. Nobody likes an ignorant bore.

16. Eat an entire Edward's Key Lime Pie by yourself. Even if it takes you a week. (It takes me about 3 days. Have elastic pants handy.)

17. Whether your parents are the nicest people alive or complete assholes. Tolerate them.

18. Cry. If you're happy, if you're sad, let it out. Don't make a spectacle, try not to do it in a professional setting, but have yourself a good ol bawlfest. It's refreshing. Snot will happen. But who doesn't get a raging boner from a snot-faced girl?

19. Smile at people you pass. Even if you know they're dicks.

20. Make a fool of yourself. For love or a child's laughter. These are the 2 best reasons I've done it.

21. Pay attention to nature. Feel awakened by a sunrise, love every second of a sunset, find shapes in the clouds, stomp through crunchy leaves, make out with someone in the rain, stay up and watch the lightning, lie down in grass and watch the ladybugs, search for 4 leaf clovers, skip rocks, swim in lakes, stare at the ocean. Puke in a parking lot. Just get outside.

22. Travel. Not just to vacation spots. Go to random towns, random bars, random grocery stores, cheap hotels, see the country you live in as a tourist just as you would a foreign place.

23. Paint your fingers and toes, you dirty tramp. Paint em up!

24. Slow down when driving. Where do you really need to go that fast?! Tickets and accidents are for assholes. And let people in on the freeway. That one extra car length will not be the 20 feet that ruins your day.

25. Be compassionate. Learn to be compassionate every step of the way.

26. Find your porn. Whether it's soccer, naked fatties, girl on girl, whatever's clever. Find your porn and when you're stressed and you can't think of anything that would feel better than punching a bitch, jack it instead. Not only does it tire you out, but orgasms oxygenate your brain. This is true shit, I watched a study on the Discovery Channel. You want a fresh perspective on something? Sleep or sex. I know which one I would choose.

27. But speaking of sleep, do that for big decisions. Sleep one night. See what the morning brings.

28. Be good to animals. Feed some chickens, pet a horse, hold a bunny, walk a dog, don't tell a goat it's ugly (to it's face). Just be kind to them. They deserve it.

29. FLOSS.

30. Hold a baby until it falls asleep in your arms. You will never forget that. I have never experienced anything better than caring for a child.

31. Being family is not just about blood, DNA or a piece of legal documentation. The love that binds you is what makes you family.

32. Show affection. Hug, kiss, touch, hold hands, give noogies to the people you care about. For one reason or another, they will be absent from your life. For a period of time or forever. And you will always wish you had hugged them or kissed them more or had the memory of smell from being closer to them. Hug and kiss. Just do it. Even if they say they hate it. Smother the shit out of them.

33. Forgive. Know that forgiveness frees up your spirit to take on or enjoy other things. Forgiveness isn't about taking shit, or taking blame, or being a stinky hippie, or giving in or being weak. Is about understanding that mistakes, no matter how big or small or hurtful, are a part of life. And you'll make some of your own some day.

34. Find the happiness in everything. When it seems there is none to be found, make it. And if all else fails, put on some Stevie Wonder and Steve Winwood. The Steve's will help.

35. Love and laugh. With everything you've got. You will not regret it, I promise you.

And I would know, I'm half way to 70. I'm wise like whoa.