Last year, I made a few resolutions that I actually STUCK TO. I got in shape and kept up with it, I got finances more in order, I got a job I love. It truly feels great. Though 2013 started out rough and had it's ups and downs, I think I can honestly say it was one of the happiest years I remember and that I was the most "true to myself" that I can recall in adulthood.
In keeping with how great I feel now, I want to make even more resolutions, but this year I want them to be more focused on my inner self than my bank account or my professional standing. Those things are fine and on their way, I need to keep this little vessel sailing straight.
1. Wait. There is one purely work resolution and that is to CLEAN MY OFFICE. Seriously... this place is the seventh circle of paperwork hell and it needs straightened out and maintained. Ok, moving on.
2. Don't buy stock in negativity, even if I think it's funny. I'm not going to forward any negative links or laugh at someone's appearance. I did a decent job of this in 2013 and it really felt good.
3. Really PUSH myself in Pure Barre. I have been lately and before I even realized it was happening, I was making it all the way through thigh work. They keep telling us "if it's not challenging you, it's not changing you" and they're right. Its amazing to feel my body do things it couldn't before. Plus, I am having a tough time fitting my calves into my jeggings now, so I'll wear more dresses!
4. Love my parents more. Love my little sisters more. I have a lot of love to give. There's no reason to keep it for myself. I overflow with love. I need to let it fall over people that need it.
5. Give more little, random, meaningful gifts. If I see something that reminds me of someone, get it for them. I never regret spending that money.
6. Get less stuff for myself. Last night I had a freak out about "stuff". LESS STUFF.
7. Perpetuate my happiness. Lift people up. Extend what I find beautiful about myself to others. And if I'm not feeling it that day, take from what I find beautiful about those around me. Be more Beyoncé!!!
8. Don't perpetuate negativity. Listen, try to understand, but also try to give people the fair and positive spin on things. Don't stir any pots, attempt to turn them down to simmer.
9. Don't be so hard on myself. My mind, body and heart can't do it all. I think they can, I take on as much as I think possible, but sometimes it's just TOO much. Be ok with letting people down sometimes. I have to realize I just can't make everyone happy. And I have to stop killing myself by trying. Those who care will understand. I need to understand.
10. Let things go that need to be gone. Let people go who are bad for me so I can give that energy to the good people. Stop responding to awful texts. Stop giving time to lost causes. Stop blaming myself for things that are so far out of my control. Let things goooooo. Wish love and light for people and then move on.
11. REALLY delight in good stuff. Roll around in it, love it. Be Ride or Die for my man, let new friends know how lovely it is to have met them, let old friends know how happy I am they're still in my life, whatever good things come my way, cause them to flourish by putting the best energy I can into them.
12. Take deep breaths. Meditate more. Listen to my inner voice and trust it. Be true to myself. Be alone with my thoughts in the quiet more often. I don't always have to be in the center of a hurricane.
13. Wear pink lip gloss, wear lingerie under my jeans, sing louder in the car.
14. Dance more. And look at birds more. Birds are really happy little things.
15. Radiate love and happiness. Lead by example. Follow my heart.
Monday, December 30, 2013
Friday, December 27, 2013
And I'm Not Even On Any Drugs....
It has been such a great holiday season so far. It really has. Just so happy and full of love and laughs. Every day has been a joyful new adventure with my family or great time with friends or reconnection with someone or meeting a new pal.
Sometimes I get scared to really delight in things because I feel like I set myself up to be upset of it all disappears, but if you don't roll around in your joy while you have it, what's the point?? And I have had more joy in the last few months than any one girl deserves. That's not something to be scared of, that's something to celebrate.
It's incredible to see how much things and people can turn around and change in the span of a year. How everything that was weighing you down before can turn into what makes you float only 365 days later.
Life is incredible, isn't it? The moment you let it take over, you become what you are supposed to be.
Sometimes I get scared to really delight in things because I feel like I set myself up to be upset of it all disappears, but if you don't roll around in your joy while you have it, what's the point?? And I have had more joy in the last few months than any one girl deserves. That's not something to be scared of, that's something to celebrate.
It's incredible to see how much things and people can turn around and change in the span of a year. How everything that was weighing you down before can turn into what makes you float only 365 days later.
Life is incredible, isn't it? The moment you let it take over, you become what you are supposed to be.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Over Shoes?
Yesterday I had a complete mental breakdown over attempting to match heels to a sparkly navy dress. I ended up with teal suede round-toe pumps and I had to ask at least 6 different people, both strangers and friends, if they agreed that this would look good. Every one of them kept saying yes, but I kept asking more people. I sent out picture texts.
Over shoes. Shoes! I am now so insane that I spent over 2 hours in one store worrying about one holiday outfit that nobody, including myself, will remember because we'll all be way too drunk.
Over shoes. Shoes! I am now so insane that I spent over 2 hours in one store worrying about one holiday outfit that nobody, including myself, will remember because we'll all be way too drunk.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Legos Though, You Guys. Legos.
When I was a little girl, I was a complete weirdo.
I very much preferred the company of adults (specifically senior citizens) because they were smarter, had better stories and indulged me. I thought other children were loud, dumb and couldn't take direction. I had a big, wild imagination and I thought other children were near-sighted and didn't bring much to the table. I wasn't mean to them, I just sort of stayed away. In my comfort zone. This is all true, I assure you. I was a freak. In the best way.
I enjoyed conventional toys, but usually not in the way they were meant to be played. I liked Barbies, but I thought they were too big to do anything cool. I enjoyed taking random pieces of my Grandma's material and making them "wrap dresses". I was DVF before I ever knew it!! I loved my Muppet figurines, but I would build them houses out of different household items. I made the raddest condos out of VHS tapes and Sesame Street books. My architecture was Grade A. I was the Frank Lloyd Wright of the 2nd grade and I was totally unaware.
I was completely obsessed with Legos. I mean obsessed. Beyond. I loved to build. I would get the theme Lego sets (Robin Hood was my fave) and I would first build the models to scale using the instructions, but after a while playing that way, I'd reconstruct the fortresses exactly the way I wanted them. How I didn't grow up and seek out an engineering degree is a frickin tragedy.
The point I was coming to is starting to get lost as I reminisce about my toys....my parents and grandparents and older sister really championed my insanity. I never realized how valuable that was until I grew up and could look back. They didn't even necessarily spur me on, but they were patient with me, I was obsessive compulsive and they really tried to deal. They told me I was weird, but that weird was good. They told me I was smart and they let me have these insane play structures all around our house. They kept art supplies flowing, the told me my drawings were amazing. I remember hearing my mother talk about me to her friends as if she thought I was a genius. I loved it. I never thought about what was "normal" or worried about what I looked like or things looked like. I just wanted it to be fun and functional and specific to my imagination. I was a perfectionist in my play craft. I really was. The more accolades I received from my loved ones, the more I liked to impress them with my next adventure in play.
As I grew older, the trappings of adolescence took hold. Insecurities sprung from their normal places and I started to lose my imagination. I discovered boys and popularity and all the pitfalls that came with those. Again, I didn't realize it at the time, but I was conforming more and more to what people thought I should be. I was lucky enough to know my peers my entire life, so I maintained shreds of weirdness here and there, but never the freedom of expression of my early childhood. Never.
Sometimes it makes me sad when I can pinpoint the moments that started to wash away my former nerdy, confident self, but mostly, I just feel very, very lucky that I had a family and friends who cheered me on, showered me with love, understanding and compliments on my creativity. They let me be who I was and they told me that person was great. Even when I was very sick and probably very scary looking, there were no comments on my appearance, there were no looks of fear in their eyes, they kept me focused outward and kept my spirits as high as my self-opinion. The me reflected on their faces was special and made them happy. Even when I was too tired or weak to play, they'd snuggle up next to me and put crayons and paper in my lap so I could keep making things. I must have exhausted them and they never let it show.
The only way I can ever think to repay them is doing the same with the people around me and hopefully, my children some day.
I very much preferred the company of adults (specifically senior citizens) because they were smarter, had better stories and indulged me. I thought other children were loud, dumb and couldn't take direction. I had a big, wild imagination and I thought other children were near-sighted and didn't bring much to the table. I wasn't mean to them, I just sort of stayed away. In my comfort zone. This is all true, I assure you. I was a freak. In the best way.
I enjoyed conventional toys, but usually not in the way they were meant to be played. I liked Barbies, but I thought they were too big to do anything cool. I enjoyed taking random pieces of my Grandma's material and making them "wrap dresses". I was DVF before I ever knew it!! I loved my Muppet figurines, but I would build them houses out of different household items. I made the raddest condos out of VHS tapes and Sesame Street books. My architecture was Grade A. I was the Frank Lloyd Wright of the 2nd grade and I was totally unaware.
I was completely obsessed with Legos. I mean obsessed. Beyond. I loved to build. I would get the theme Lego sets (Robin Hood was my fave) and I would first build the models to scale using the instructions, but after a while playing that way, I'd reconstruct the fortresses exactly the way I wanted them. How I didn't grow up and seek out an engineering degree is a frickin tragedy.
The point I was coming to is starting to get lost as I reminisce about my toys....my parents and grandparents and older sister really championed my insanity. I never realized how valuable that was until I grew up and could look back. They didn't even necessarily spur me on, but they were patient with me, I was obsessive compulsive and they really tried to deal. They told me I was weird, but that weird was good. They told me I was smart and they let me have these insane play structures all around our house. They kept art supplies flowing, the told me my drawings were amazing. I remember hearing my mother talk about me to her friends as if she thought I was a genius. I loved it. I never thought about what was "normal" or worried about what I looked like or things looked like. I just wanted it to be fun and functional and specific to my imagination. I was a perfectionist in my play craft. I really was. The more accolades I received from my loved ones, the more I liked to impress them with my next adventure in play.
As I grew older, the trappings of adolescence took hold. Insecurities sprung from their normal places and I started to lose my imagination. I discovered boys and popularity and all the pitfalls that came with those. Again, I didn't realize it at the time, but I was conforming more and more to what people thought I should be. I was lucky enough to know my peers my entire life, so I maintained shreds of weirdness here and there, but never the freedom of expression of my early childhood. Never.
Sometimes it makes me sad when I can pinpoint the moments that started to wash away my former nerdy, confident self, but mostly, I just feel very, very lucky that I had a family and friends who cheered me on, showered me with love, understanding and compliments on my creativity. They let me be who I was and they told me that person was great. Even when I was very sick and probably very scary looking, there were no comments on my appearance, there were no looks of fear in their eyes, they kept me focused outward and kept my spirits as high as my self-opinion. The me reflected on their faces was special and made them happy. Even when I was too tired or weak to play, they'd snuggle up next to me and put crayons and paper in my lap so I could keep making things. I must have exhausted them and they never let it show.
The only way I can ever think to repay them is doing the same with the people around me and hopefully, my children some day.
Monday, December 9, 2013
How Can I Possibly Ever Be Attracted To A Man Who Eats Ribs That Way??
I think the phases you go through with the people you love are the best parts of relationships.
Like...one minute you're looking at someone with utter contempt, just all 'how DARE he wear that blue sweater I know his ex bought him to this dinner, that sweater is kindling!' inside your head, but the next minute, he corrects the Starbucks barista to inform her you do not want whip cream on that gingerbread latte and you think 'eh, he's not so bad'.
There's a particularly busy week and you're so relieved he's off doing his own thing and you're not having to deal with constant fits about ridiculous things that don't concern you, but then there's a Thursday night where your bed is cold and you think 'I'd be ok with him eating snacks in this bed right now even though I despise when people eat snacks in my bed' and you almost call him, but you realize that's not how grown folks act and go to sleep instead.
Sometimes, you look at him and internally rage out all 'When was the last time this asshole worked out?? Is he just living on pizza? And his SKIN!! JUST PUT LOTION ON YOURSELF, HOW HARD IS THAT?!!' and then he's wandering around in his tux searching for his striped socks and you're all 'He's very handsome and I look very nice next to him in a sparkly dress.'
I also enjoy those days when I am essentially done with this person all together; yelling, flailing, resolute in my decision to walk away and throw a lit match behind me and then within the next hour I'm having sex with them and all is forgiven.
In those times when I actually know what just went on inside a bathroom because I heard the noises event though I was downstairs using a hair dryer and I have a nose, but then I'm still full-on attracted to a person and ready to do unspeakable things to their body, those are the times I know I'm capable of anything in love. A-ny-thing.
Like...one minute you're looking at someone with utter contempt, just all 'how DARE he wear that blue sweater I know his ex bought him to this dinner, that sweater is kindling!' inside your head, but the next minute, he corrects the Starbucks barista to inform her you do not want whip cream on that gingerbread latte and you think 'eh, he's not so bad'.
There's a particularly busy week and you're so relieved he's off doing his own thing and you're not having to deal with constant fits about ridiculous things that don't concern you, but then there's a Thursday night where your bed is cold and you think 'I'd be ok with him eating snacks in this bed right now even though I despise when people eat snacks in my bed' and you almost call him, but you realize that's not how grown folks act and go to sleep instead.
Sometimes, you look at him and internally rage out all 'When was the last time this asshole worked out?? Is he just living on pizza? And his SKIN!! JUST PUT LOTION ON YOURSELF, HOW HARD IS THAT?!!' and then he's wandering around in his tux searching for his striped socks and you're all 'He's very handsome and I look very nice next to him in a sparkly dress.'
I also enjoy those days when I am essentially done with this person all together; yelling, flailing, resolute in my decision to walk away and throw a lit match behind me and then within the next hour I'm having sex with them and all is forgiven.
In those times when I actually know what just went on inside a bathroom because I heard the noises event though I was downstairs using a hair dryer and I have a nose, but then I'm still full-on attracted to a person and ready to do unspeakable things to their body, those are the times I know I'm capable of anything in love. A-ny-thing.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Too Fast. Too Furious....Too Soon, Bro.
Ok. I've never been known for being particularly sensitive where these matters are concerned, but does anyone else think the media is making just a little TOO big of a deal out of Paul Walker's death?
Yes, he was young, gorgeous, talented, a father, and apparently very generous, but it's not like he was a ginormous celebrity or a definitive actor in our time. Is it just a slow news week or something?
I mean, James Gandolfini was a ridiculously gifted actor that crossed genres, was a total philanthropist, especially for veterans and played one of the greatest TV characters ever written and his death wasn't even this sensationalized. And he dropped dead on a vacation. Paul Walker was in a speeding Porsche. I mean, we've all been there, but if I die while my dude is racing through the streets, a few people are going to roll their eyes, you know?
Meh. Maybe I'm just PMSing. AGAIN. Month after month with this bullshit. Ugh.
Yes, he was young, gorgeous, talented, a father, and apparently very generous, but it's not like he was a ginormous celebrity or a definitive actor in our time. Is it just a slow news week or something?
I mean, James Gandolfini was a ridiculously gifted actor that crossed genres, was a total philanthropist, especially for veterans and played one of the greatest TV characters ever written and his death wasn't even this sensationalized. And he dropped dead on a vacation. Paul Walker was in a speeding Porsche. I mean, we've all been there, but if I die while my dude is racing through the streets, a few people are going to roll their eyes, you know?
Meh. Maybe I'm just PMSing. AGAIN. Month after month with this bullshit. Ugh.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
"Mom! Did You Always Know The Work "Milk" Has An L In It??!"
People keep inviting me to do these weirdo lists on Facebook, which I keep refusing along with their Candy Crush and Super Slots requests, but I like the lists in USWeekly, so I'm gonna blog one. Because...introspection belongs in lists....
25 things about me.
1. I gave my mother several very serious bouts of false labor. I was stubborn from the get-go.
2. In first grade, I spelled 'milk' like 'miwk' because that's how I said it and I sounded it out. Later that day I got mad at my mother for letting me say it like that at home because "it's WRONG, mom".
3. I was asked by my school if I wanted to skip 3rd and 4th grades. I declined. I was quite smart before I discovered a social life.
4. I am always attracted to the color grey. Grey clothes, shoes, wall color, furniture, eye shadow. I love all different shades of grey. Allllll 50 shades.
5. My favorite poet is Robert Frost. I can never decide if my favorite poem is Fire And Ice or The Road Not Taken. I don't own ONE Robert Frost poetry book and that pains me.
6. I can not hear the song Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon without wanting to get totally wild. And the bridge of Locked Out Of Heaven by Bruno Mars where he sings "ohohohoh yeahyeahyeah can I just stay here, spend the rest of my days here" gets turned up to ear-shattering levels in my car. It makes me throw my head back.
7. I am completely obsessed with Pudge the Cat. Like...obsessed. We tweet at each other.
8. I used to have to take breaks during thigh/quad work in Pure Barre and I was perfection at booty work. Now it's the opposite. I get through thighs/quads pretty easily and my booty is challenging me!
9. Angel by Thierry Mugler and La Vie Est Belle by Lancôme are my longest running perfumes to date. Still love them both every time I put them on.
10. Starbucks is like a drug to me. Chai lattes in particular.
11. How Long Will I Love You by Ellie Goulding and Turning Page by Sleeping At Last are my current favorite love songs.
12. I used to dislike walnuts and now I can't stop eating them. Sometimes I stand around and drip honey on them first. It's so weird.
13. It's been a year since I got my iphone and I can still barely work it. I feel the most difficult part is actually making a phone call.
14. Pictures of bunnies and/or babies make me insanely happy. Like, happy tears happy. http://www.buzzfeed.com/ellievhall/this-touching-video-of-a-premature-babys-first-year-will-mak and this is the most touching video I have ever seen. Ever.
15. I have seen the sun set over the Caribbean, sun rise over the Grand Canyon, been in a rain storm IN a rain forest in Hawaii, participated in Hands Across America, walked through a New Orleans cemetery at night, held 2 baby chimps, etc etc. I've had a cool life and I smile about it every day.
16. A boy once kissed me under a street lamp in a snow storm at midnight. I wasn't even dating him, he was a friend who just stole it and said "I have always wondered what that would be like since I met you" and it was, to this day, the most romantic kiss I have ever had.
17. I hate peas. HATE.
18. I love pizza. Like, can't resist pizza no matter how hard I try.
19. Writing, drinking (coffee or vodka) and listening to music (all at the same time, preferably) are my favorite things to do besides sex and snuggling.
20. I ask salons to dye my hair brown all the time and they refuse because "this color can never be replicated again, lady!"
21. I can shoot an arrow both left and right handed.
22. I'm positive I have seen an alien. I went into shock afterward.
23. I love road trips. Or trips of any kind. I'd travel and write full time if I had the balls to just give things up and do it.
24. I try to quit swear words all the time. It never fucking works.
25. I get really teary eyed and weird when I realize the best days of my life are still ahead of me because I'm not married and not a mom yet. <3 p="">
PS, while I was writing this, Locked Out Of Heaven came on and you can bet that sweet ass I cranked it up in my office.
25 things about me.
1. I gave my mother several very serious bouts of false labor. I was stubborn from the get-go.
2. In first grade, I spelled 'milk' like 'miwk' because that's how I said it and I sounded it out. Later that day I got mad at my mother for letting me say it like that at home because "it's WRONG, mom".
3. I was asked by my school if I wanted to skip 3rd and 4th grades. I declined. I was quite smart before I discovered a social life.
4. I am always attracted to the color grey. Grey clothes, shoes, wall color, furniture, eye shadow. I love all different shades of grey. Allllll 50 shades.
5. My favorite poet is Robert Frost. I can never decide if my favorite poem is Fire And Ice or The Road Not Taken. I don't own ONE Robert Frost poetry book and that pains me.
6. I can not hear the song Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon without wanting to get totally wild. And the bridge of Locked Out Of Heaven by Bruno Mars where he sings "ohohohoh yeahyeahyeah can I just stay here, spend the rest of my days here" gets turned up to ear-shattering levels in my car. It makes me throw my head back.
7. I am completely obsessed with Pudge the Cat. Like...obsessed. We tweet at each other.
8. I used to have to take breaks during thigh/quad work in Pure Barre and I was perfection at booty work. Now it's the opposite. I get through thighs/quads pretty easily and my booty is challenging me!
9. Angel by Thierry Mugler and La Vie Est Belle by Lancôme are my longest running perfumes to date. Still love them both every time I put them on.
10. Starbucks is like a drug to me. Chai lattes in particular.
11. How Long Will I Love You by Ellie Goulding and Turning Page by Sleeping At Last are my current favorite love songs.
12. I used to dislike walnuts and now I can't stop eating them. Sometimes I stand around and drip honey on them first. It's so weird.
13. It's been a year since I got my iphone and I can still barely work it. I feel the most difficult part is actually making a phone call.
14. Pictures of bunnies and/or babies make me insanely happy. Like, happy tears happy. http://www.buzzfeed.com/ellievhall/this-touching-video-of-a-premature-babys-first-year-will-mak and this is the most touching video I have ever seen. Ever.
15. I have seen the sun set over the Caribbean, sun rise over the Grand Canyon, been in a rain storm IN a rain forest in Hawaii, participated in Hands Across America, walked through a New Orleans cemetery at night, held 2 baby chimps, etc etc. I've had a cool life and I smile about it every day.
16. A boy once kissed me under a street lamp in a snow storm at midnight. I wasn't even dating him, he was a friend who just stole it and said "I have always wondered what that would be like since I met you" and it was, to this day, the most romantic kiss I have ever had.
17. I hate peas. HATE.
18. I love pizza. Like, can't resist pizza no matter how hard I try.
19. Writing, drinking (coffee or vodka) and listening to music (all at the same time, preferably) are my favorite things to do besides sex and snuggling.
20. I ask salons to dye my hair brown all the time and they refuse because "this color can never be replicated again, lady!"
21. I can shoot an arrow both left and right handed.
22. I'm positive I have seen an alien. I went into shock afterward.
23. I love road trips. Or trips of any kind. I'd travel and write full time if I had the balls to just give things up and do it.
24. I try to quit swear words all the time. It never fucking works.
25. I get really teary eyed and weird when I realize the best days of my life are still ahead of me because I'm not married and not a mom yet. <3 p="">
PS, while I was writing this, Locked Out Of Heaven came on and you can bet that sweet ass I cranked it up in my office.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Ain't No Party Like A Movie Theater Lobby Twitter Waiting Partay!!!!!
So, last night I'm waiting for The Fresh Prince of Grosse Pointe to show up to a movie after our separate work out classes. The movie we agreed on started at 8:25pm so naturally I bought tickets for the 9:05pm show as he really has little to no knowledge on how clocks work and he cares even less than he knows. Now that I'm very well-versed in his total and utter disregard for punctuality, and benefit from it when I don't feel like getting out of bed for brunch on Sundays, it is almost admirable. I have to assume the watch he wears every day is basically a prop. I'm not even sure it has a battery in it; I don't recall ever hearing it ticking and he often wears it in the shower. Anyway...
I'm chilling in the theater waiting for him and I happened scroll through Twitter. I ended up being the crazy girl, sitting on a bench, crying her eyeliner off while laughing. I'm not sure what it is about Monday nights that makes people funnier than normal, but it was a good time. When he finally arrived (at 8:40pm because he also has NO idea that it takes longer than 15 minutes from Birmingham to Novi, but I digress, the dude will never learn and I pick my battles wisely) I asked him if he'd like me to read him some of the highlights, but as he has zero patience for snarky social media when he's hungry, he just kissed my cheek and wandered off to buy pretzels and inquire about the probability of getting a frozen coke cocktail. Priorities.
I thought I would share some of the sick shit I decided was comical and/or noteworthy:
Ike Barinholtz @ikebarinholtz (an actor and writer for The Mindy Project)
I can only assume that Papa John has photos and or video of Peyton Manning eating out an old cat or something
Christine Teigen @chrissyteigen (model, wife of John Legend, Twitter champion) I don't care what you have to say about miley that bikini line is ingrown fucking free and I respect it
Girls @girlsHBO (the show) "Why don't you place just one crumb of basic human compassion on this fat-free muffin of sociopathic attachment? See how it tastes"
Ike Barinholtz @ikebarinholtz (again, because he's fucking hilarious) I think we can all agree that "Phillybuster" would be a great name for a cheese steak restaurant in Washington DC
Jenni Konner @campsucks My blood type is smoothie
Bosh The Type @BoshTheTypee (a parody account of Drake The Type profiling black men. It's great) Bosh the type of nigga to call Wade and say "I just wanted to hear your voice"
Christine Teigen @chrissyteigen (I said she was a champion) I've been in hundreds of airport bathrooms, but congrats to Newark, NJ, who takes the title of "only restroom that needs a fucking eye wash" (I would have to agree with this and add in certain terminals of LaGuardia)
Dane Cook @DaneCook (comedian, duh) If you meet a guy and he doesn't stare at your tits...something is really, really wrong with your tits.
These are just a few, and maybe I'm the only person that finds them funny, but I'm awesome so you should really laugh at whatever I laugh at. A little tip from me to you.
I'm chilling in the theater waiting for him and I happened scroll through Twitter. I ended up being the crazy girl, sitting on a bench, crying her eyeliner off while laughing. I'm not sure what it is about Monday nights that makes people funnier than normal, but it was a good time. When he finally arrived (at 8:40pm because he also has NO idea that it takes longer than 15 minutes from Birmingham to Novi, but I digress, the dude will never learn and I pick my battles wisely) I asked him if he'd like me to read him some of the highlights, but as he has zero patience for snarky social media when he's hungry, he just kissed my cheek and wandered off to buy pretzels and inquire about the probability of getting a frozen coke cocktail. Priorities.
I thought I would share some of the sick shit I decided was comical and/or noteworthy:
Ike Barinholtz @ikebarinholtz (an actor and writer for The Mindy Project)
I can only assume that Papa John has photos and or video of Peyton Manning eating out an old cat or something
Christine Teigen @chrissyteigen (model, wife of John Legend, Twitter champion) I don't care what you have to say about miley that bikini line is ingrown fucking free and I respect it
Girls @girlsHBO (the show) "Why don't you place just one crumb of basic human compassion on this fat-free muffin of sociopathic attachment? See how it tastes"
Ike Barinholtz @ikebarinholtz (again, because he's fucking hilarious) I think we can all agree that "Phillybuster" would be a great name for a cheese steak restaurant in Washington DC
Jenni Konner @campsucks My blood type is smoothie
Bosh The Type @BoshTheTypee (a parody account of Drake The Type profiling black men. It's great) Bosh the type of nigga to call Wade and say "I just wanted to hear your voice"
Christine Teigen @chrissyteigen (I said she was a champion) I've been in hundreds of airport bathrooms, but congrats to Newark, NJ, who takes the title of "only restroom that needs a fucking eye wash" (I would have to agree with this and add in certain terminals of LaGuardia)
Dane Cook @DaneCook (comedian, duh) If you meet a guy and he doesn't stare at your tits...something is really, really wrong with your tits.
These are just a few, and maybe I'm the only person that finds them funny, but I'm awesome so you should really laugh at whatever I laugh at. A little tip from me to you.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Jackie
I'm not really sure why, but I have always felt very affected by the JFK assassination. I wasn't alive, my mother and father were in grade school. My family doesn't really discuss it or seem that scarred by it.
Maybe it starts with Jackie. I could literally look at pictures of Jackie Kennedy all day long. She seemed to embody human grace at all times. One second, a regal woman in a ball gown, the next a mother in a shift dress letting her children play in the White House fountain. She was everything all at once.
It could be the absolute devotion she showed to her marriage; to a husband who was reportedly insensitive and unfaithful to her. Still, her commitment to her man, his career, her children, her privacy and American dignity in general are unparalleled. And it's funny, at the time my obsession with her began, I would have never pictured myself dating a JFK type, but boy, did that turn out differently. Aggressive side-part, charm and charisma all day long up in these parts. But far too many skeletons peeking out of his closet to be a politician, thankfully.
I think what honestly attaches me most to them and to her is the utter shock and grief that must have pressed down on her this day 50 years ago. They say that when you experience stress or hard times with a man, it bonds you closer together. The Kennedy's had their share of stress long before that day in Texas. They had come through it together. Still smiling. Still united. And then in one instant....to look over and see your husband clutching his bleeding neck. To go from attempting to help him or understand what's happening to watching a bullet crash into his head right before your eyes. Holding him shattered and bleeding to death in your lap. Watching his body rushed into the hospital. Watching his casket loaded into a hearse. Watching his Vice President sworn into his spot before you have even changed your suit or washed his blood off your legs. Knowing a nation has to deal with an enormous loss and change, but you have to be pulled together enough to tell your children that they lost their father. I honestly can not imagine. And when I try, my eyes fill with tears.
The media speaks of the assassination often as "Innocence Lost" or "The Fall of Camelot". In some ways, it really was, but in other ways I feel the opposite. Jack Kennedy was not innocent. But his wife loved him anyway. She loved him and supported him tirelessly and fought to keep their matters private and their marriage intact and then she had to watch close up as a bullet killed him. The more time you spend with a man you love, the more defensive of him and devoted to him you become. To watch the object of your profound dedication murdered beside you is one of the absolute worst things I can imagine. And Jackie Kennedy is a testament to the strength of a woman to not crumble in the wake of November 22, 1963.
Maybe it starts with Jackie. I could literally look at pictures of Jackie Kennedy all day long. She seemed to embody human grace at all times. One second, a regal woman in a ball gown, the next a mother in a shift dress letting her children play in the White House fountain. She was everything all at once.
It could be the absolute devotion she showed to her marriage; to a husband who was reportedly insensitive and unfaithful to her. Still, her commitment to her man, his career, her children, her privacy and American dignity in general are unparalleled. And it's funny, at the time my obsession with her began, I would have never pictured myself dating a JFK type, but boy, did that turn out differently. Aggressive side-part, charm and charisma all day long up in these parts. But far too many skeletons peeking out of his closet to be a politician, thankfully.
I think what honestly attaches me most to them and to her is the utter shock and grief that must have pressed down on her this day 50 years ago. They say that when you experience stress or hard times with a man, it bonds you closer together. The Kennedy's had their share of stress long before that day in Texas. They had come through it together. Still smiling. Still united. And then in one instant....to look over and see your husband clutching his bleeding neck. To go from attempting to help him or understand what's happening to watching a bullet crash into his head right before your eyes. Holding him shattered and bleeding to death in your lap. Watching his body rushed into the hospital. Watching his casket loaded into a hearse. Watching his Vice President sworn into his spot before you have even changed your suit or washed his blood off your legs. Knowing a nation has to deal with an enormous loss and change, but you have to be pulled together enough to tell your children that they lost their father. I honestly can not imagine. And when I try, my eyes fill with tears.
The media speaks of the assassination often as "Innocence Lost" or "The Fall of Camelot". In some ways, it really was, but in other ways I feel the opposite. Jack Kennedy was not innocent. But his wife loved him anyway. She loved him and supported him tirelessly and fought to keep their matters private and their marriage intact and then she had to watch close up as a bullet killed him. The more time you spend with a man you love, the more defensive of him and devoted to him you become. To watch the object of your profound dedication murdered beside you is one of the absolute worst things I can imagine. And Jackie Kennedy is a testament to the strength of a woman to not crumble in the wake of November 22, 1963.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
A Hundy.
Today is my 100 Club day at Pure Barre. I know it seems stupid to a few people, but it's just miraculous to me.
I thrive on devotion. I really do. But I thrive on my devotion to other people, never to myself; it's what defines me in a very real way. This class is the first time I really devoted something all to me.
I really never knew how rewarding it would be to spend a bunch of money, make time in my schedule and show up in stretch pants and a tank top to this class. I loved it, first thing for sure, but I didn't know then that I would become almost dependent on it. I took a break for 2 months to save money for a wedding flight, a trip to New York and to just try working out on my own as well. What a joke. I wish I had never taken that break. But it made sense in a different way and solidified my belief in and devotion to this class and myself.
Aside for all the "fun" stuff this class provides like hearing all the best new music first, joking around during warm up, the cute outfits, the fun challenges the instructors make up to get you to more classes, the hanging out with all the girls afterwards or on weekends for tailgates, there is the absolute focus. The watching yourself transform inside and out. I may not have realized it without the break. I came back after 2 months and it was like starting over. I had no idea how much strength I had already built.
During many classes, when one of the instructors walks around, she wills you through certain stages with her words. They'll call you out by name with encouragement and compliments. They really coach you through. Some of my favorite phrases are "You have only 20 more seconds here, you can do anything for 20 seconds", "Your mind will give up before your body, your body will not stop", "If you're not challenging, you're not changing, you're here for that shake, get your muscles there". But my absolute favorites are "You are SO much stronger than you know, stay in it!" and the best..."This is an hour ALL for you You'll get out of it what you put into it.".
I didn't pay a lot of attention to that sentence when I first started, but I realize its importance now. As I dedicate SO much of my time to other places and definitely other people, it is so crucial to have time each day for me and I can't think of a better way to make myself stronger and stronger. When I'm there, I'm not worried about anything else but my body and my mind. I'm not worrying about what others think of me, where else I could be, the money I'm spending, none of it. I'm putting my mind to the muscle I'm working or stretching and listening to the music and instructor, attempting to perfect my form or feel the move a little deeper.
I truly never expected the validation I feel in watching my body change and get stronger and more able and flexible. I'm definitely more toned, that's great to look at and feel, but I'm also more centered, my balance is better, my mind pushes me farther in other areas, I have more energy AND more patience, I don't feel guilty when I want ice cream because I know what I'm capable of for one hour a day in Pure Barre.
Most of all, I feel beaming pride. A lot of people sit around saying "Yeah, I'm going to run, I'm going to change my body when I get time", but the thing is, you think you have time. But you don't. You think you're healthy, but you're not. You have not one second on earth that is guaranteed to you, why not just get up and do it now? See what your body is capable of? I used to be that person. And now I'm the person who rearranges plans to make it to class because I want to leave and see my hamstrings bigger or feel extremely stretched and relaxed or just know my commitment to myself is intact. It makes me a better person. It makes me incredibly excited to know I've kept myself going for 100 classes and I'm STILL pushing and learning and struggling to get through sets. I've come this far and I have very far to go. It's thrilling. It makes me proud of myself and my devotion to everyone and everything else stronger because I know how strong I am.
Plus, lets not kid around, my ass is OUTSTANDING. And only getting better. Bonus!
I thrive on devotion. I really do. But I thrive on my devotion to other people, never to myself; it's what defines me in a very real way. This class is the first time I really devoted something all to me.
I really never knew how rewarding it would be to spend a bunch of money, make time in my schedule and show up in stretch pants and a tank top to this class. I loved it, first thing for sure, but I didn't know then that I would become almost dependent on it. I took a break for 2 months to save money for a wedding flight, a trip to New York and to just try working out on my own as well. What a joke. I wish I had never taken that break. But it made sense in a different way and solidified my belief in and devotion to this class and myself.
Aside for all the "fun" stuff this class provides like hearing all the best new music first, joking around during warm up, the cute outfits, the fun challenges the instructors make up to get you to more classes, the hanging out with all the girls afterwards or on weekends for tailgates, there is the absolute focus. The watching yourself transform inside and out. I may not have realized it without the break. I came back after 2 months and it was like starting over. I had no idea how much strength I had already built.
During many classes, when one of the instructors walks around, she wills you through certain stages with her words. They'll call you out by name with encouragement and compliments. They really coach you through. Some of my favorite phrases are "You have only 20 more seconds here, you can do anything for 20 seconds", "Your mind will give up before your body, your body will not stop", "If you're not challenging, you're not changing, you're here for that shake, get your muscles there". But my absolute favorites are "You are SO much stronger than you know, stay in it!" and the best..."This is an hour ALL for you You'll get out of it what you put into it.".
I didn't pay a lot of attention to that sentence when I first started, but I realize its importance now. As I dedicate SO much of my time to other places and definitely other people, it is so crucial to have time each day for me and I can't think of a better way to make myself stronger and stronger. When I'm there, I'm not worried about anything else but my body and my mind. I'm not worrying about what others think of me, where else I could be, the money I'm spending, none of it. I'm putting my mind to the muscle I'm working or stretching and listening to the music and instructor, attempting to perfect my form or feel the move a little deeper.
I truly never expected the validation I feel in watching my body change and get stronger and more able and flexible. I'm definitely more toned, that's great to look at and feel, but I'm also more centered, my balance is better, my mind pushes me farther in other areas, I have more energy AND more patience, I don't feel guilty when I want ice cream because I know what I'm capable of for one hour a day in Pure Barre.
Most of all, I feel beaming pride. A lot of people sit around saying "Yeah, I'm going to run, I'm going to change my body when I get time", but the thing is, you think you have time. But you don't. You think you're healthy, but you're not. You have not one second on earth that is guaranteed to you, why not just get up and do it now? See what your body is capable of? I used to be that person. And now I'm the person who rearranges plans to make it to class because I want to leave and see my hamstrings bigger or feel extremely stretched and relaxed or just know my commitment to myself is intact. It makes me a better person. It makes me incredibly excited to know I've kept myself going for 100 classes and I'm STILL pushing and learning and struggling to get through sets. I've come this far and I have very far to go. It's thrilling. It makes me proud of myself and my devotion to everyone and everything else stronger because I know how strong I am.
Plus, lets not kid around, my ass is OUTSTANDING. And only getting better. Bonus!
Thursday, November 14, 2013
It Never Is
Sometimes I think I see her.
I'll see a long blond ponytail swinging ahead of me walking in a crowd and I'll speed up a little...
I'll be waiting for my drink at Starbucks, staring around the place as usual, and I'll hear her name called and look to see if it's her picking up a vanilla latte. It never is.
A lot, in Pure Barre, I'll hear an instructor call out a compliment to her name and I'll break concentration to turn and see if, for some insane reason, it's her in my class. No idea why she would ever be there, so far away, but if she were, she'd most definitely be getting shout outs.
Every now and then I'll be out at dinner and I'll hear someone speaking loudly, quickly and then laugh and I'll turn just to make sure. That person will make eye contact with me and we'll both smile, but its never her.
Definitely in airports. I keep thinking as I wait for flights, I'm going to be sweeping my eyes across the others in terminals waiting to board and lock eyes with her. But that doesn't ever happen.
When I'm picking out nail colors. Or putting on too much eyeliner. When someone speaks like her or rolls their eyes in the same way. When I need shoe advice. Or when I tell myself to take off one sparkly thing before leaving the house. When I put on perfume I know she would hate. When I want to talk about TV shows. When I shop for jeans. When I hold a baby. When I know I need tough love.
Sometimes its a happy, warm feeling. Sometimes its a desperate, sad, longing feeling. Sometimes it just feels like a void. It's no longer an angry feeling. Toward her, anyway. Sometimes I think it would be easier if she really had died instead of just feeling like she did. I realize that's awful, but what the head knows and the heart feels doesn't always match up logically.
Le Sigh.
I'll see a long blond ponytail swinging ahead of me walking in a crowd and I'll speed up a little...
I'll be waiting for my drink at Starbucks, staring around the place as usual, and I'll hear her name called and look to see if it's her picking up a vanilla latte. It never is.
A lot, in Pure Barre, I'll hear an instructor call out a compliment to her name and I'll break concentration to turn and see if, for some insane reason, it's her in my class. No idea why she would ever be there, so far away, but if she were, she'd most definitely be getting shout outs.
Every now and then I'll be out at dinner and I'll hear someone speaking loudly, quickly and then laugh and I'll turn just to make sure. That person will make eye contact with me and we'll both smile, but its never her.
Definitely in airports. I keep thinking as I wait for flights, I'm going to be sweeping my eyes across the others in terminals waiting to board and lock eyes with her. But that doesn't ever happen.
When I'm picking out nail colors. Or putting on too much eyeliner. When someone speaks like her or rolls their eyes in the same way. When I need shoe advice. Or when I tell myself to take off one sparkly thing before leaving the house. When I put on perfume I know she would hate. When I want to talk about TV shows. When I shop for jeans. When I hold a baby. When I know I need tough love.
Sometimes its a happy, warm feeling. Sometimes its a desperate, sad, longing feeling. Sometimes it just feels like a void. It's no longer an angry feeling. Toward her, anyway. Sometimes I think it would be easier if she really had died instead of just feeling like she did. I realize that's awful, but what the head knows and the heart feels doesn't always match up logically.
Le Sigh.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Hindsight....Is Carrie Bradshaw Actually Just A Childish Bitch?....
So.
I'm not trying to knock how great the series was. I really love the writing; some of it is so easy to relate to, funny and inspiring, at the very least, thought-provoking. But I have to say....watching Sex & The City years later, I'm really rethinking a lot of shit that went down.
Put down the knife, wipe the scowl, let me explain....
1. WTF is with the smoking? We just accepted it as it was part of Carrie's character, but bitch is RUDE about it. It's not as if she's only smoking in bars or outdoor areas, she lights up at dinner in a restaurant, at dinner parties, at a professional photo shoot?? Pretty gross. Pretty frickin' gross. Even if smoking laws were more relaxed back then.
2. The episode where Carrie throws the bitchfit at the Upper East Side party?? WTF?! "Ugh, I hate Park Avenue. It's like a foreign country". Fine. You don't have to spend much time there, you're a guest of Big's, there's free booze. Just keep your judgmental yap shut, or make conversation, but don't act like an asshole when the cokehead host asks you to please smoke on the balcony instead of inside her gorgeous townhouse. It's not a big deal. Sure, she's anal and probably ridiculous, but you're not moving in. Oh! and then you're there with your boyfriend whom you desperately want to love you, and you're pissed so you refer to him as "some guy" to the waiter, who you also let expose his crotch tattoo to you in view of a fancy party. Carrie, get your shit together. This is not acceptable behavior for a smart woman in her thirties. This is petulant. I won't even bother to throw in the part where you end up taking the waiter home with you...slut. And you know, this is sort of Carrie's attitude throughout the series!!! She's a total games player. Seriously. Use your words. You're a writer! Why did we justify so much of her behavior? I don't get it now.
3. In this same episode, Miranda really screws herself with pressuring Steve about the firm dinner. If she knows the dude is a poor bartender, present the opportunity to attend the dinner to him differently. "Hey, my Firm dinner is this week, it's going to be pretty fancy and boring, I'd love for you to go, but if you don't feel comfortable, or don't have anything to wear, I totally understand, I'll meet up after to give you a beej." Not "You have a gold cord suit? Fuck. Just fuck. You're scummy." She set him up to feel inferior, he didn't just bust it out on her. I mean, he could have said "This is a great idea, wanting to buy me this suit and all, I just don't feel comfortable with it, I'll get one somewhere else, I'll go to the next firm dinner, you fancy bitch, you.". But dudes don't want to admit defeat. Steve breaking up with her at her door before the dinner, dick move. But she set him up to feel shitty so maybe he wanted to show her some payback.
4. Don't get me wrong, the episode when Harry sees Charlotte at the party and asks her to marry him totes made me blubber, still does to this day. But Charlotte screaming in his face "Set the date! Do you know what people think when they see us on the street together?! Set the date!!" I mean... honestly, how does Harry forgive her for saying that??! To know your mate sees you as incredibly physically below them, and that everyone knows it and is also judging them, and points that out to you as a reason you should marry them??? How do you just brush that away? I guess worse things can be said over the course of a relationship, but shit. That's awful. Just truly awful.
5. Samantha is honestly the most logical and real character on this show. Sure, she is supposedly the power whore, but at least she owns it. And aside for all the sex, in public, she's actually quite a lady. Owning your potent sexuality doesn't make you a bad girl. She doesn't play games with men, she doesn't play games with her friends, she puts it all out there - win or lose. She handles her sexuality with strength and a bit of comedy and she handles her struggles with grace and poise. Maybe she wasn't "the star" because she's not that complicated and as women, we don't like to admit that we like complication. She's incredibly secure and tolerates her bits of vulnerability the best she can and for some reason, she's downplayed because she's so outwardly sexual.
I still love this series and I can watch it overandoverandover, but I'm saying, the older I get, the more I see Carrie as a bit of a childish, indecisive mess and less of a heroine. I still think she's a great character because she's interesting, but someone to aspire to? mmmmm maybe in your twenties. Hopefully, by your thirties, you'll realize that smoking all over everyone, attempting to trick and cajole your boyfriend into calling you his soul mate, and over-thinking every.single.emotion you have is just not...fabulous.
I'm not trying to knock how great the series was. I really love the writing; some of it is so easy to relate to, funny and inspiring, at the very least, thought-provoking. But I have to say....watching Sex & The City years later, I'm really rethinking a lot of shit that went down.
Put down the knife, wipe the scowl, let me explain....
1. WTF is with the smoking? We just accepted it as it was part of Carrie's character, but bitch is RUDE about it. It's not as if she's only smoking in bars or outdoor areas, she lights up at dinner in a restaurant, at dinner parties, at a professional photo shoot?? Pretty gross. Pretty frickin' gross. Even if smoking laws were more relaxed back then.
2. The episode where Carrie throws the bitchfit at the Upper East Side party?? WTF?! "Ugh, I hate Park Avenue. It's like a foreign country". Fine. You don't have to spend much time there, you're a guest of Big's, there's free booze. Just keep your judgmental yap shut, or make conversation, but don't act like an asshole when the cokehead host asks you to please smoke on the balcony instead of inside her gorgeous townhouse. It's not a big deal. Sure, she's anal and probably ridiculous, but you're not moving in. Oh! and then you're there with your boyfriend whom you desperately want to love you, and you're pissed so you refer to him as "some guy" to the waiter, who you also let expose his crotch tattoo to you in view of a fancy party. Carrie, get your shit together. This is not acceptable behavior for a smart woman in her thirties. This is petulant. I won't even bother to throw in the part where you end up taking the waiter home with you...slut. And you know, this is sort of Carrie's attitude throughout the series!!! She's a total games player. Seriously. Use your words. You're a writer! Why did we justify so much of her behavior? I don't get it now.
3. In this same episode, Miranda really screws herself with pressuring Steve about the firm dinner. If she knows the dude is a poor bartender, present the opportunity to attend the dinner to him differently. "Hey, my Firm dinner is this week, it's going to be pretty fancy and boring, I'd love for you to go, but if you don't feel comfortable, or don't have anything to wear, I totally understand, I'll meet up after to give you a beej." Not "You have a gold cord suit? Fuck. Just fuck. You're scummy." She set him up to feel inferior, he didn't just bust it out on her. I mean, he could have said "This is a great idea, wanting to buy me this suit and all, I just don't feel comfortable with it, I'll get one somewhere else, I'll go to the next firm dinner, you fancy bitch, you.". But dudes don't want to admit defeat. Steve breaking up with her at her door before the dinner, dick move. But she set him up to feel shitty so maybe he wanted to show her some payback.
4. Don't get me wrong, the episode when Harry sees Charlotte at the party and asks her to marry him totes made me blubber, still does to this day. But Charlotte screaming in his face "Set the date! Do you know what people think when they see us on the street together?! Set the date!!" I mean... honestly, how does Harry forgive her for saying that??! To know your mate sees you as incredibly physically below them, and that everyone knows it and is also judging them, and points that out to you as a reason you should marry them??? How do you just brush that away? I guess worse things can be said over the course of a relationship, but shit. That's awful. Just truly awful.
5. Samantha is honestly the most logical and real character on this show. Sure, she is supposedly the power whore, but at least she owns it. And aside for all the sex, in public, she's actually quite a lady. Owning your potent sexuality doesn't make you a bad girl. She doesn't play games with men, she doesn't play games with her friends, she puts it all out there - win or lose. She handles her sexuality with strength and a bit of comedy and she handles her struggles with grace and poise. Maybe she wasn't "the star" because she's not that complicated and as women, we don't like to admit that we like complication. She's incredibly secure and tolerates her bits of vulnerability the best she can and for some reason, she's downplayed because she's so outwardly sexual.
I still love this series and I can watch it overandoverandover, but I'm saying, the older I get, the more I see Carrie as a bit of a childish, indecisive mess and less of a heroine. I still think she's a great character because she's interesting, but someone to aspire to? mmmmm maybe in your twenties. Hopefully, by your thirties, you'll realize that smoking all over everyone, attempting to trick and cajole your boyfriend into calling you his soul mate, and over-thinking every.single.emotion you have is just not...fabulous.
Monday, October 21, 2013
But, The Cronut Line Was Too Long *Sad Face*
I finally did it. I finally visited New York.
No work, no agenda, nothing to do but soak in the city with two of my best friends. I will never forget looking out the plane window and instantly recognizing the shape of Manhattan and the only light being the glare from the rising sun bouncing off the Freedom Tower. It was a major moment.
I really found it to be a louder, more crowded, more aggressive, more diverse, chicer version of Chicago. WHICH IS FANTASTIC. Don't get me wrong, I love Chicago intensely, but it's almost a 3rd home for me at this point, I can navigate it with ease.
New York felt new and scary and overwhelming. I love still getting that feeling as an adult. Sometimes you don't know if anything can shock you, intimidate you, or impress you anymore. Good to know how wrong I was.
I don't know that I have what it takes to be a true New Yorker; I'm far too sentimental. I do envy them though, they're tough. It's a humbling place that makes LA look like an elementary school play. It's pushy and angled and harsh and smelly and bustling and smart-assed and hypocritical and snobby and packed yet accepting of you, no matter what you want to be. Unless you want to be a little bitch and walk slowly.
Obviously, I loved it. I'm already looking at plane tickets to return.
No work, no agenda, nothing to do but soak in the city with two of my best friends. I will never forget looking out the plane window and instantly recognizing the shape of Manhattan and the only light being the glare from the rising sun bouncing off the Freedom Tower. It was a major moment.
I really found it to be a louder, more crowded, more aggressive, more diverse, chicer version of Chicago. WHICH IS FANTASTIC. Don't get me wrong, I love Chicago intensely, but it's almost a 3rd home for me at this point, I can navigate it with ease.
New York felt new and scary and overwhelming. I love still getting that feeling as an adult. Sometimes you don't know if anything can shock you, intimidate you, or impress you anymore. Good to know how wrong I was.
I don't know that I have what it takes to be a true New Yorker; I'm far too sentimental. I do envy them though, they're tough. It's a humbling place that makes LA look like an elementary school play. It's pushy and angled and harsh and smelly and bustling and smart-assed and hypocritical and snobby and packed yet accepting of you, no matter what you want to be. Unless you want to be a little bitch and walk slowly.
Obviously, I loved it. I'm already looking at plane tickets to return.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
INDCP
I think about my Grandma all the time.
It's really incredibly strange to think I haven't seen her in 16 years because she is as clear as can be in my head. I remember her skin and her hair, the texture of both. I remember what holding her hand felt like. I remember she smelled like Oil of Olay and Lancôme Tresor. I remember her facial expressions and her smile and her laugh. Man, she got mad at me a lot when I was a teenager!
It's weird that when I think of her, little specific moments come to my head. Her in her white shorts. Her sitting at the kitchen table writing in her journal. Mostly, I remember her standing against the front wall of Menard's waiting to pick me up from work one day. That always sticks out and I can't figure out why. Maybe because it was one of the last times I saw her.
She was so petite and proper and the best caretaker in the world. I think of her all the time now when I get into bed with dirty feet or talk too much on the phone or do anything in general that she disliked.
A few days ago, I stood in a window with a mirror and tweezers to pluck at my face and I stopped in my tracks because I remember her doing exactly the same thing. I was even holding them at exactly the same angles that she used to. Sometimes I wonder if that means I'm programmed just like her. She hadn't had children by my age either. Maybe that's why I don't. Maybe I'll follow her exactly and I'll be a good caretaker and I'll be calm in my old age and I'll think of everyone else before myself. I'll worry too much and I'll obsess about my hair and clean sheets. I'll constantly play cards, make really good chili and tell my grand kids I love them and they need to slow down more.
Sounds about right. I hope.
It's really incredibly strange to think I haven't seen her in 16 years because she is as clear as can be in my head. I remember her skin and her hair, the texture of both. I remember what holding her hand felt like. I remember she smelled like Oil of Olay and Lancôme Tresor. I remember her facial expressions and her smile and her laugh. Man, she got mad at me a lot when I was a teenager!
It's weird that when I think of her, little specific moments come to my head. Her in her white shorts. Her sitting at the kitchen table writing in her journal. Mostly, I remember her standing against the front wall of Menard's waiting to pick me up from work one day. That always sticks out and I can't figure out why. Maybe because it was one of the last times I saw her.
She was so petite and proper and the best caretaker in the world. I think of her all the time now when I get into bed with dirty feet or talk too much on the phone or do anything in general that she disliked.
A few days ago, I stood in a window with a mirror and tweezers to pluck at my face and I stopped in my tracks because I remember her doing exactly the same thing. I was even holding them at exactly the same angles that she used to. Sometimes I wonder if that means I'm programmed just like her. She hadn't had children by my age either. Maybe that's why I don't. Maybe I'll follow her exactly and I'll be a good caretaker and I'll be calm in my old age and I'll think of everyone else before myself. I'll worry too much and I'll obsess about my hair and clean sheets. I'll constantly play cards, make really good chili and tell my grand kids I love them and they need to slow down more.
Sounds about right. I hope.
Monday, October 7, 2013
She Makes Me Wanna Work, B*tch
Can we PLEASE talk about Britney being back in actch??!!
I mean. I almost can't deal. I need to make a list to organize my thoughts.
1. Her song sounds fresh with techno-newness, but it's still "so Britney" as well.
2. She's totally back into the phase where she wears statement t's, sweats and the high blond ponytail everywhere she goes just in case there's an impromptu dance rehearsal.
3. Now on to the video....can we just? I mean.
4. There's totes a twinkle in her eye during the dance routine parts. You can tell she missed organized dancing with other simple bitches behind her SO MUCH.
5. Her bod looks super legit for someone with two kids that once survived on only Cheetos and Frappuccinos. (not that there's anything wrong with that)
6. When she's between the two white walls and she sinks her booty down and does the really fast "turning my head to the side to look away from you" thing. So Brit.
7. When she's kneeling down in the shark pool with the pink dress on and she arches her back and tilts her head off to the side while singing "keep it movin higher" and also conveying that she gets you think she's sexy, but she needs to sing right now. So. Fucking. Brit.
8. When she gives the sexy death stare right into the camera, leaving you wondering how you can pledge your soul to her for safe keeping and naughty time as well. SO FUCKING BRITNEY, YOU GUYS!
9. It seems like forever ago when I had to write her an open letter begging her to get her shit together and now there are memes about how "If Britney could survive 2007, I can get through Thursday", you know what I mean? It's not just a comeback, it's a super-crazy sexy "I never left, whores" all up in your face.
10. I can't WAIT until MTV starts whipping up Britney specials for us to watch the glory of rehearsals and prep for her Vegas show.
I mean. I almost can't deal. I need to make a list to organize my thoughts.
1. Her song sounds fresh with techno-newness, but it's still "so Britney" as well.
2. She's totally back into the phase where she wears statement t's, sweats and the high blond ponytail everywhere she goes just in case there's an impromptu dance rehearsal.
3. Now on to the video....can we just? I mean.
4. There's totes a twinkle in her eye during the dance routine parts. You can tell she missed organized dancing with other simple bitches behind her SO MUCH.
5. Her bod looks super legit for someone with two kids that once survived on only Cheetos and Frappuccinos. (not that there's anything wrong with that)
6. When she's between the two white walls and she sinks her booty down and does the really fast "turning my head to the side to look away from you" thing. So Brit.
7. When she's kneeling down in the shark pool with the pink dress on and she arches her back and tilts her head off to the side while singing "keep it movin higher" and also conveying that she gets you think she's sexy, but she needs to sing right now. So. Fucking. Brit.
8. When she gives the sexy death stare right into the camera, leaving you wondering how you can pledge your soul to her for safe keeping and naughty time as well. SO FUCKING BRITNEY, YOU GUYS!
9. It seems like forever ago when I had to write her an open letter begging her to get her shit together and now there are memes about how "If Britney could survive 2007, I can get through Thursday", you know what I mean? It's not just a comeback, it's a super-crazy sexy "I never left, whores" all up in your face.
10. I can't WAIT until MTV starts whipping up Britney specials for us to watch the glory of rehearsals and prep for her Vegas show.
Friday, September 27, 2013
The 10 Stages Of Me Seeing A Snake At Work
There I was....sitting on the ground enjoying the sunshine....
- "SCREEEEEEEEAAAAAAM! OH FUCKING GROSS! SCREAM!" (out loud)
- *Scrambling backward while attempting to stand up, basically crab walking while having a bobblehead, trying to unsee what I just saw*
- "Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ewwwwwww" (out loud with eyes closed quickly walking away)
- 'HOW did this happen on the very last garden day of the summer?' (inner dialogue)
- 'Do I even WANT a garden next year? I mean, this is bullshit' (inner dialogue)
- 'What kind of snake WAS that? Was it an adult or a baby? Why was it so shiny?' (inner dialogue)
- *Looks at hands and feet to check that no other snakes, bugs, amphibians attached themselves to me. Burst in door of kitchen*
- "YOU GUYS I JUST SAW A SNAKE OUTSIDE *tear drips down face* AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO GO TAKE CARE OF IT!" (Said out loud, received with laughter from co-workers)
- 'I hate all of these jerks. I bet they would have pissed themselves a little bit too.' (inner dialogue)
- *Looks down one more time to MAKE SURE no other snakes made it in the door with me some how, shivers*
- "SCREEEEEEEEAAAAAAM! OH FUCKING GROSS! SCREAM!" (out loud)
- *Scrambling backward while attempting to stand up, basically crab walking while having a bobblehead, trying to unsee what I just saw*
- "Ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ewwwwwww" (out loud with eyes closed quickly walking away)
- 'HOW did this happen on the very last garden day of the summer?' (inner dialogue)
- 'Do I even WANT a garden next year? I mean, this is bullshit' (inner dialogue)
- 'What kind of snake WAS that? Was it an adult or a baby? Why was it so shiny?' (inner dialogue)
- *Looks at hands and feet to check that no other snakes, bugs, amphibians attached themselves to me. Burst in door of kitchen*
- "YOU GUYS I JUST SAW A SNAKE OUTSIDE *tear drips down face* AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO GO TAKE CARE OF IT!" (Said out loud, received with laughter from co-workers)
- 'I hate all of these jerks. I bet they would have pissed themselves a little bit too.' (inner dialogue)
- *Looks down one more time to MAKE SURE no other snakes made it in the door with me some how, shivers*
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Dual Cassette Deck?! Luxury!!!
I remember my very first cognizant experience with anger not paying off.
I was living in the farm house on 90th avenue and I had the entire upstairs to myself. (I ended up having many introductory adulthood lessons in this room, including the loss of my virginity, but that's not what this story is about.) I had a really big bedroom with tons of space and 2 beds and in the corner was my favorite thing I owned: a sweet, by 90's teenager standards, stereo with remote control.
This was long before I found pleasure in shopping for endless amounts of clothing, shoes, make up and accessories I didn't need. I really didn't have a lot of use for many material things, I was totally involved in other pursuits. (so much smarter back then). The stereo was a gift, in fact, I didn't even ask for it. I got it because I would leave whatever previous radio I had on all night and my dad didn't like that so he looked for one with a remote that I could time and turn off. I loved it. I loved it so hard. This stereo made mix tapes like nobody's biz and played Prince and Boyz II Men or Open House Party with John Garabedian at decibels offensive to most human ears while I perfected "spiral curls" on many an occasion. Anyway...
One day, and the best part is that I don't remember what it was even about, I got so angry that I snatched the remote off the table holding the stereo and fast pitched that mofo into the wall so hard it exploded. It was one of those moments in life you read about where I didn't even know what I was doing until it was over. I basically blacked out with madness. And this used to happen to me quite often. My temper was such that I would seriously physically lash out and act a fool. I slapped people, threw glasses, kicked people out of cars in the middle of nowhere; I was like a Real Housewife of New Jersey before they knew what table flipping was! When my breathing slowed slightly and consciousness slid back into my brain, I looked down at the remote shrapnel and realized I had only hurt myself in that situation. Nobody was there to witness the display, nobody else used that remote, I didn't teach anyone a lesson with this act. Not even myself at the time.
I'd go on to have several more spectacular outburst in the future before finally getting choked out by my best friend and learning my lesson, but I really never forgot sitting on my floor picking up pieces of plastic and rubber buttons and gluing it all back together. I felt idiotic. And regretful. And I decided breaking my own shit was not the best way to express myself. Slapping people was still an option, but my stuff? Nope.
It has been literally at least 2 decades since this happened and I can remember it like yesterday. Now, when my fingers curl around a champagne flute in rage or I can feel my shoulders start to tense and my breathing start to rise and the blood vessels in my cheeks filling up with warmth from the incredibly stupid things that happen around me, I remember how I almost had to actually get out of bed to turn of Boyz II Men and I shut that shit down. I can't remember the last time I had "an incident" even though sometimes I get cute-crooked-smiled-at after a particularly infuriating comment in anticipation of just such an event. Way to be, me!
(I also sprayed perfume on my cat in this room and thought I almost killed him with it, but he went on to lead a really long life. Way to be, Mr. Cat!)
I was living in the farm house on 90th avenue and I had the entire upstairs to myself. (I ended up having many introductory adulthood lessons in this room, including the loss of my virginity, but that's not what this story is about.) I had a really big bedroom with tons of space and 2 beds and in the corner was my favorite thing I owned: a sweet, by 90's teenager standards, stereo with remote control.
This was long before I found pleasure in shopping for endless amounts of clothing, shoes, make up and accessories I didn't need. I really didn't have a lot of use for many material things, I was totally involved in other pursuits. (so much smarter back then). The stereo was a gift, in fact, I didn't even ask for it. I got it because I would leave whatever previous radio I had on all night and my dad didn't like that so he looked for one with a remote that I could time and turn off. I loved it. I loved it so hard. This stereo made mix tapes like nobody's biz and played Prince and Boyz II Men or Open House Party with John Garabedian at decibels offensive to most human ears while I perfected "spiral curls" on many an occasion. Anyway...
One day, and the best part is that I don't remember what it was even about, I got so angry that I snatched the remote off the table holding the stereo and fast pitched that mofo into the wall so hard it exploded. It was one of those moments in life you read about where I didn't even know what I was doing until it was over. I basically blacked out with madness. And this used to happen to me quite often. My temper was such that I would seriously physically lash out and act a fool. I slapped people, threw glasses, kicked people out of cars in the middle of nowhere; I was like a Real Housewife of New Jersey before they knew what table flipping was! When my breathing slowed slightly and consciousness slid back into my brain, I looked down at the remote shrapnel and realized I had only hurt myself in that situation. Nobody was there to witness the display, nobody else used that remote, I didn't teach anyone a lesson with this act. Not even myself at the time.
I'd go on to have several more spectacular outburst in the future before finally getting choked out by my best friend and learning my lesson, but I really never forgot sitting on my floor picking up pieces of plastic and rubber buttons and gluing it all back together. I felt idiotic. And regretful. And I decided breaking my own shit was not the best way to express myself. Slapping people was still an option, but my stuff? Nope.
It has been literally at least 2 decades since this happened and I can remember it like yesterday. Now, when my fingers curl around a champagne flute in rage or I can feel my shoulders start to tense and my breathing start to rise and the blood vessels in my cheeks filling up with warmth from the incredibly stupid things that happen around me, I remember how I almost had to actually get out of bed to turn of Boyz II Men and I shut that shit down. I can't remember the last time I had "an incident" even though sometimes I get cute-crooked-smiled-at after a particularly infuriating comment in anticipation of just such an event. Way to be, me!
(I also sprayed perfume on my cat in this room and thought I almost killed him with it, but he went on to lead a really long life. Way to be, Mr. Cat!)
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
"You Guys Were Really Good With Boxes...I Mean REALLY Good."
Last night I had a dream that all the plumbing techs at my business were moving my mom from one house to another. She was refusing to participate because she was busy resurrecting a relationship with one of her old boyfriends. I got all pissed off and yelled at her and told her she needed to help because we didn't know where she wanted her things. (I also added in that I hated his goatee, but that is about as irrelevant as this entire blog)
This was an intensely weird start to a dream. But not nearly as weird as the part where we all had to sleep in the same room for some reason and I was in a bed between 2 of them trying my absolute hardest not to touch either.
In fact, it got the weirdest when I came in this morning, saw all of the techs gathered to receive their paperwork and decided to actually tell them about said dream. I pulled a Louie and swapped out "we all had to bed down together like animals" for "you ended up having to camp in my back yard". This didn't make it any less awkward that I was telling a group of grown men I had a dream they were all in. I do not look nor do I sound a thing like Judy Garland, so it wasn't even a little bit endearing.
Finally, after a long pause following my story, one of them spoke up with "Um...is this the part where you tell us we have to move your mom?" and another asked "Wait, is your mom even moving?...or are YOU moving?" which lead to several of them asking questions about what this dream meant, how it would affect them, and if there was incentive-based pay involved.
Moral of the story here is: if you expose the sicko depths of your subconscious to your field staff, you will inevitably end up in a conversation about Obamacare and new power tools.
I'm sure this is relatable to EVERYONE.
This was an intensely weird start to a dream. But not nearly as weird as the part where we all had to sleep in the same room for some reason and I was in a bed between 2 of them trying my absolute hardest not to touch either.
In fact, it got the weirdest when I came in this morning, saw all of the techs gathered to receive their paperwork and decided to actually tell them about said dream. I pulled a Louie and swapped out "we all had to bed down together like animals" for "you ended up having to camp in my back yard". This didn't make it any less awkward that I was telling a group of grown men I had a dream they were all in. I do not look nor do I sound a thing like Judy Garland, so it wasn't even a little bit endearing.
Finally, after a long pause following my story, one of them spoke up with "Um...is this the part where you tell us we have to move your mom?" and another asked "Wait, is your mom even moving?...or are YOU moving?" which lead to several of them asking questions about what this dream meant, how it would affect them, and if there was incentive-based pay involved.
Moral of the story here is: if you expose the sicko depths of your subconscious to your field staff, you will inevitably end up in a conversation about Obamacare and new power tools.
I'm sure this is relatable to EVERYONE.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Why Can't I Dream About Flying Or Winning A Chili Cook-Off?
Saturday night I had a dream about cats again. This time, there were only 2 cats; one yellow and one calico. They were both overweight, cuddly and they had zero interest in running away from me. They were adorable with smooshed in faces and kept meowing and pawing at me for my attention. When I'd pick them up, they'd just go totally limp with the relief of cuddling. I also had the good sense to have a carrier for them this time, which they happily hopped into whenever asked.
I woke up yesterday not thinking much about this. I was in autumn happiness mode and focused on what was happening around me, getting dinner plans in order, begging for a tomato sauce recipe, sipping a pumpkin latte, eating candied pecans, deciding if I want seasonally scented candles or the usual spa-like smells, watching football and fretting about how I was going to slot one billion hours of Breaking Bad in to catch up in time for the series finale. You know, important stuff.
Last night, when I woke up to a call at an inhumane hour, I gave little attention to the chat as I was only half conscious. Upon hanging up I realized, out loud, "The cats don't represent kids! They're adults!" and then fell back asleep. A peaceful, dreamless, cuddly sleep.
When I remembered my breakthrough this morning, I analyzed it for a hot minute while shaking my head and smiling. There is one prominent fact here: whether cute and cuddly or manic and escape-driven, even when they're as sweet and happy as one can possibly be, cats are still cats. They are still barf machines who shed on your favorite slacks...... and shit in a box.
I woke up yesterday not thinking much about this. I was in autumn happiness mode and focused on what was happening around me, getting dinner plans in order, begging for a tomato sauce recipe, sipping a pumpkin latte, eating candied pecans, deciding if I want seasonally scented candles or the usual spa-like smells, watching football and fretting about how I was going to slot one billion hours of Breaking Bad in to catch up in time for the series finale. You know, important stuff.
Last night, when I woke up to a call at an inhumane hour, I gave little attention to the chat as I was only half conscious. Upon hanging up I realized, out loud, "The cats don't represent kids! They're adults!" and then fell back asleep. A peaceful, dreamless, cuddly sleep.
When I remembered my breakthrough this morning, I analyzed it for a hot minute while shaking my head and smiling. There is one prominent fact here: whether cute and cuddly or manic and escape-driven, even when they're as sweet and happy as one can possibly be, cats are still cats. They are still barf machines who shed on your favorite slacks...... and shit in a box.
Friday, September 20, 2013
What Is Your Soup Du Jour?? That Sounds Good. I'll Have That.
THE SEVERAL REASONS I'M OLD. THIS IS ROCK SOLID PROOF, PEOPLE
1. What the fuck is "the Cloud"? It seems made up. Isn't it just a website? Don't make it sound like it's a literal cloud! I'm learning, but reluctantly. I thought I was big shit for downloading music after every other 11 year old on the planet.
2. I don't know the difference between The Wanted and One Direction. I can't name their songs, I don't know the members' names, and I don't think any of them are remotely attractive. Related note: NSYNC reuniting was the best thing I can remember happening to me in the last 5 years.
3. I DO think Ben Affleck is the most handsome man on the planet. Because... you know, he seems like a good dad and a super cool husband and his career is shaping up nicely.
4. I do not know the difference between: Victoria Justice, Miranda Cosgrove, Either brunette girl on Modern Family or Ariana Grande. The only reason I know Selena Gomez's identity is because of her ridiculous relationship with Bieber. Who seems awful.
5. Staying up until 3am and driving home at 5am from Detroit is no big deal anymore because old people rarely sleep for fear of death happening from slowed breathing.
6. I am finally ok with separate sides of the bed with no touching after falling asleep. It alllll makes sense now! Snuggles are for when you're awake and can easily regulate your body temperature.
7. I love soup. I fucking love it.
8. Candy seems like revolting chemicals smashed together in jewel shapes.
9. I can not resist a great turtleneck sweater. Or a pair of loafers. I get really excited about a great pair of slacks and I go ape shit for tweed.
10. Loud unexplained noises infuriate me. I seriously turn red when there's a beeping anywhere.
11. I'm all about IFC movies. Every single one of them looks interesting.
12. The little mini jingle that comes on before an HBO show is very comforting to me.
13. I prefer blouses to t-shirts. That finally happened.
14. Any color eye shadow not found in nature is pretty much out of the question.
15. I take a small mirror and tweezers to stand in a window and eliminate facial hairs and I can remember my grandmother doing the EXACT same thing. I just do it with an iPhone on speaker. (I just figured out how to do that.)
1. What the fuck is "the Cloud"? It seems made up. Isn't it just a website? Don't make it sound like it's a literal cloud! I'm learning, but reluctantly. I thought I was big shit for downloading music after every other 11 year old on the planet.
2. I don't know the difference between The Wanted and One Direction. I can't name their songs, I don't know the members' names, and I don't think any of them are remotely attractive. Related note: NSYNC reuniting was the best thing I can remember happening to me in the last 5 years.
3. I DO think Ben Affleck is the most handsome man on the planet. Because... you know, he seems like a good dad and a super cool husband and his career is shaping up nicely.
4. I do not know the difference between: Victoria Justice, Miranda Cosgrove, Either brunette girl on Modern Family or Ariana Grande. The only reason I know Selena Gomez's identity is because of her ridiculous relationship with Bieber. Who seems awful.
5. Staying up until 3am and driving home at 5am from Detroit is no big deal anymore because old people rarely sleep for fear of death happening from slowed breathing.
6. I am finally ok with separate sides of the bed with no touching after falling asleep. It alllll makes sense now! Snuggles are for when you're awake and can easily regulate your body temperature.
7. I love soup. I fucking love it.
8. Candy seems like revolting chemicals smashed together in jewel shapes.
9. I can not resist a great turtleneck sweater. Or a pair of loafers. I get really excited about a great pair of slacks and I go ape shit for tweed.
10. Loud unexplained noises infuriate me. I seriously turn red when there's a beeping anywhere.
11. I'm all about IFC movies. Every single one of them looks interesting.
12. The little mini jingle that comes on before an HBO show is very comforting to me.
13. I prefer blouses to t-shirts. That finally happened.
14. Any color eye shadow not found in nature is pretty much out of the question.
15. I take a small mirror and tweezers to stand in a window and eliminate facial hairs and I can remember my grandmother doing the EXACT same thing. I just do it with an iPhone on speaker. (I just figured out how to do that.)
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Deja Vu Like A Mofo.
It's so insane what your head and your heart choose to remember or forget. I mean, not insane, but its pretty wild. The things you can talk yourself into or out of are endless. The capabilities of our emotions and our senses to help them along, its all so fascinating.
One day you can think you feel one way, and the next day, you've completely turned a corner. You find yourself heading under the same bridges and streetlights, the same streets with different leaves blowing down them one year later. It's almost like you don't remember the course of actions that got you back there. You're smelling the same perfume and the same soap smell mix together and even the textures of a floor on your feet or a counter top on your fingertips is a memory, but it's right under you in real time.
You slip into conversations and behaviors and there's an actual point where you think "Wait, did no time at all pass? Did I just imagine all of that other stuff?", but you know time passed and you know things were real in between then and now. You let yourself just sort of drift right back to that skin and that face. You find yourself slipped beneath that big, fluffy white comforter watching a movie, laughing and talking, arguing about people you know and hockey for hours on end.
A lot of "experts" would say this isn't healthy. They'd label it "dangerous territory". But where is the danger, really? In letting yourself feel feelings at the risk of being let down? Because, let me save you the trouble of that fear; people will let you down. Hard. A lot of the time, when you least expect it, that's when it happens. Just like that happiness that snuck up on you and exposed all the confusing old feelings. We don't save ourselves from pain. Unless you call being numb safe, but that's really just starving ourselves of the happiness too. Emotions will happen to us no matter what we fucking tell ourselves. People will let us down, we'll let people down and we'll let ourselves down. Its never going to stop happening.
I kept denying myself the opportunity to feel a connection again because I thought it was bad news. But this morning, when I was on my way home and it was still dark, this HUGE yellow moon still hung in the sky soooooo beautiful and I was so incredibly glad I didn't cheat myself out of that sight and a day of happiness. I don't know if it will repeat itself or not, I have no idea what's in my future, that's the nature of life and it's certainly the nature of my life in particular.
But isn't that what makes it great? The pain and the love swirling all together? Because you really can't have one without the other.
One day you can think you feel one way, and the next day, you've completely turned a corner. You find yourself heading under the same bridges and streetlights, the same streets with different leaves blowing down them one year later. It's almost like you don't remember the course of actions that got you back there. You're smelling the same perfume and the same soap smell mix together and even the textures of a floor on your feet or a counter top on your fingertips is a memory, but it's right under you in real time.
You slip into conversations and behaviors and there's an actual point where you think "Wait, did no time at all pass? Did I just imagine all of that other stuff?", but you know time passed and you know things were real in between then and now. You let yourself just sort of drift right back to that skin and that face. You find yourself slipped beneath that big, fluffy white comforter watching a movie, laughing and talking, arguing about people you know and hockey for hours on end.
A lot of "experts" would say this isn't healthy. They'd label it "dangerous territory". But where is the danger, really? In letting yourself feel feelings at the risk of being let down? Because, let me save you the trouble of that fear; people will let you down. Hard. A lot of the time, when you least expect it, that's when it happens. Just like that happiness that snuck up on you and exposed all the confusing old feelings. We don't save ourselves from pain. Unless you call being numb safe, but that's really just starving ourselves of the happiness too. Emotions will happen to us no matter what we fucking tell ourselves. People will let us down, we'll let people down and we'll let ourselves down. Its never going to stop happening.
I kept denying myself the opportunity to feel a connection again because I thought it was bad news. But this morning, when I was on my way home and it was still dark, this HUGE yellow moon still hung in the sky soooooo beautiful and I was so incredibly glad I didn't cheat myself out of that sight and a day of happiness. I don't know if it will repeat itself or not, I have no idea what's in my future, that's the nature of life and it's certainly the nature of my life in particular.
But isn't that what makes it great? The pain and the love swirling all together? Because you really can't have one without the other.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Science Is Failing Us As Parents And Pet Owners.
I had a dream last night that I had 3 cats. A fat yellow one, a semi-fat black and white one and a little, thinner tabby. They were fucking really cute, but they were all over the place and I was constantly saving them from danger. I remember being on a tour bus and the next thing I knew, my cats had run off of it and were just roaming a parking lot and I had to search for them.
Then, the tabby (because all tabby cats look fairly similar) was lost and I accidentally picked up a different small tabby and had to turn around and go find the one that belonged to me. THEN the yellow one barfed up tuna and my friend cleaned it up. Thennnnnn one of them pooped on the floor. I remember thinking in my dream "Are these cats even worth this mess?".
I'm not sure if this dream represented my fear of having children or my fear of becoming a crazy cat lady, but either way, the real question here is this: can't science give us cats and babies that don't shit and barf everywhere??? is that SO hard, scientists?? Jeez!
Then, the tabby (because all tabby cats look fairly similar) was lost and I accidentally picked up a different small tabby and had to turn around and go find the one that belonged to me. THEN the yellow one barfed up tuna and my friend cleaned it up. Thennnnnn one of them pooped on the floor. I remember thinking in my dream "Are these cats even worth this mess?".
I'm not sure if this dream represented my fear of having children or my fear of becoming a crazy cat lady, but either way, the real question here is this: can't science give us cats and babies that don't shit and barf everywhere??? is that SO hard, scientists?? Jeez!
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
How Could You Ever Forget?
I talk about it every year. I always think I won't, I think I'm over it, but then I do. Because how can you ever be over it?
It was just so sunny. That's what I remember. It was SO early and SO sunny when my boyfriend called me at 6am. At first he tried to calmly tell me to go get all of my money out of the bank and start driving, but when I questioned this extremely unorthodox request, he yelled "We're under attack! Turn on the TV!". I ran to the living room and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was the perfect outline of a plane in the side of one of the towers of the World Trade Center. What was worse, is that about 10-15 seconds later, I watched the second plane hit the other tower.
It was surreal. It seemed like a movie. The whole 4 minutes of this phone call, I just felt were a nightmare. I wanted to just stay calm, but he was adamant I needed to get OUT of Los Angeles immediately, this isn't an accident, it's an attack on the country. When I hung up, it was playing again on TV and the people on CNN and the LA news had no idea what was going on. My boyfriend was super into politics, I wondered if maybe he was just overreacting. It was hard to keep composed. I felt like I may have been witnessing the next Pearl Harbor. I called my producer to tell her she needed to get in the office right away. We had actually been working with people in New York so I knew people were already in our building starting their day even though we were 3 hours behind them. She didn't know what was going on. I called Adam to beg him to leave the city with me, but he refused. Always has to be the hero, that one. By the time I hung up with him and called my mom, the plane had hit the Pentagon and I was officially in panic mode. I grabbed 2 pictures of my family, my baby blanket and left. I literally didn't know at that point if I would be going back there ever again. That's how scary it all felt. Was this war? Had WW3 just started?
I sped down to our offices and I just remember the sun. It was so, so, so sunny on a perfect summery fall day. And I remember how bright the sun had been on TV watching the planes crash into those buildings. I called my producer back to let her know this was real, something really bad was happening. She didn't answer. Every radio station on the way there was doing a terrible job of keeping anyone calm. They just kept saying there was no telling where the next plane would hit. I knew we had crew members on flights from New York back to LA, I was desperate to remember the flight numbers and the times, but all I could do was stare up at the sky and look for planes. I remember running up the stairs of our building and telling everyone to turn on their TVs. There were stylists in the conference room and as soon as they saw the buildings, one ran out of the office and the other started furiously dialing the phone. They both had family in Manhattan.
I was just barely staying composed. One of our Executive Producers walked out of his office and said we would probably be next. This did not help. I said we needed to find out what flights our people were on, and which ones had crashed. At that exact moment, CNN announced another plane had went down in an unknown location. I was officially over it. I was leaving the city and heading to my boyfriend in Palm Springs. I ran into our production bay, grabbed the folder with flight information in it, wrote it down on a post it, thrust the folder into my producer's hands and left.
By this time, chaos was starting to take hold of LA and people were panicked. I took the quickest route down to the freeway which happened to pass by the federal building. There were police EVERYWHERE. They were trying to control traffic and they were trying to barricade the building from the passing vehicles. I remember a female police officer trying to stop me and the car in front of me and we didn't even think about it. She literally had her hands on my hood, making eye contact with me telling me to turn around and we both kept going, bumper to bumper, we were only about 4 blocks from the 10 and we certainly weren't heading back now. Getting on to the freeway was intense. I had never seen it move like that. Literally 5 lanes in unison at around 85-90 mph. Everyone had the same idea around the same time. And nobody held anyone else up. One of the assistants called me from the office, scared, asking if she could get a ride. I told her it was impossible now, I couldn't get off the freeway even if I wanted to.
The radio stations' news was still so ridiculous and borderline fear-inducing. In their defense, nobody really knew what was going on. It was all so confusing, I mean, nobody had even heard of Bin Laden or Al Qaeda back then. Timothy McVeigh was the only terrorist whose name I knew at that time. It still didn't seem real. They announced any and all flights in this country were being grounded at any available airport. Nobody wants to think they are greatly overreacting by fleeing their city, but nobody wants to be in a building when a plane crashes near it either. And I'll tell you, you never realize how weird it is to see zero airplanes in the sky until it happens. Nothing. Just blue as far as the eye could see. Not even a jet stream. And if you did see something, it was terrifying. You prayed it was just a bird.
I finally felt pretty safe once I was about 50 miles from the city. I mean, nobody crashes a plane into Ontario, CA, right? I was still so worried about Adam and everyone who stayed, but it seemed over now or like our military was taking action at least. The only good part of this drive is when I got the call that all the people we had flying back from New York were safe. Their planes had been grounded in other cities.
They had been on top of the towers the day before while sightseeing. The day before.
It was just so sunny. That's what I remember. It was SO early and SO sunny when my boyfriend called me at 6am. At first he tried to calmly tell me to go get all of my money out of the bank and start driving, but when I questioned this extremely unorthodox request, he yelled "We're under attack! Turn on the TV!". I ran to the living room and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was the perfect outline of a plane in the side of one of the towers of the World Trade Center. What was worse, is that about 10-15 seconds later, I watched the second plane hit the other tower.
It was surreal. It seemed like a movie. The whole 4 minutes of this phone call, I just felt were a nightmare. I wanted to just stay calm, but he was adamant I needed to get OUT of Los Angeles immediately, this isn't an accident, it's an attack on the country. When I hung up, it was playing again on TV and the people on CNN and the LA news had no idea what was going on. My boyfriend was super into politics, I wondered if maybe he was just overreacting. It was hard to keep composed. I felt like I may have been witnessing the next Pearl Harbor. I called my producer to tell her she needed to get in the office right away. We had actually been working with people in New York so I knew people were already in our building starting their day even though we were 3 hours behind them. She didn't know what was going on. I called Adam to beg him to leave the city with me, but he refused. Always has to be the hero, that one. By the time I hung up with him and called my mom, the plane had hit the Pentagon and I was officially in panic mode. I grabbed 2 pictures of my family, my baby blanket and left. I literally didn't know at that point if I would be going back there ever again. That's how scary it all felt. Was this war? Had WW3 just started?
I sped down to our offices and I just remember the sun. It was so, so, so sunny on a perfect summery fall day. And I remember how bright the sun had been on TV watching the planes crash into those buildings. I called my producer back to let her know this was real, something really bad was happening. She didn't answer. Every radio station on the way there was doing a terrible job of keeping anyone calm. They just kept saying there was no telling where the next plane would hit. I knew we had crew members on flights from New York back to LA, I was desperate to remember the flight numbers and the times, but all I could do was stare up at the sky and look for planes. I remember running up the stairs of our building and telling everyone to turn on their TVs. There were stylists in the conference room and as soon as they saw the buildings, one ran out of the office and the other started furiously dialing the phone. They both had family in Manhattan.
I was just barely staying composed. One of our Executive Producers walked out of his office and said we would probably be next. This did not help. I said we needed to find out what flights our people were on, and which ones had crashed. At that exact moment, CNN announced another plane had went down in an unknown location. I was officially over it. I was leaving the city and heading to my boyfriend in Palm Springs. I ran into our production bay, grabbed the folder with flight information in it, wrote it down on a post it, thrust the folder into my producer's hands and left.
By this time, chaos was starting to take hold of LA and people were panicked. I took the quickest route down to the freeway which happened to pass by the federal building. There were police EVERYWHERE. They were trying to control traffic and they were trying to barricade the building from the passing vehicles. I remember a female police officer trying to stop me and the car in front of me and we didn't even think about it. She literally had her hands on my hood, making eye contact with me telling me to turn around and we both kept going, bumper to bumper, we were only about 4 blocks from the 10 and we certainly weren't heading back now. Getting on to the freeway was intense. I had never seen it move like that. Literally 5 lanes in unison at around 85-90 mph. Everyone had the same idea around the same time. And nobody held anyone else up. One of the assistants called me from the office, scared, asking if she could get a ride. I told her it was impossible now, I couldn't get off the freeway even if I wanted to.
The radio stations' news was still so ridiculous and borderline fear-inducing. In their defense, nobody really knew what was going on. It was all so confusing, I mean, nobody had even heard of Bin Laden or Al Qaeda back then. Timothy McVeigh was the only terrorist whose name I knew at that time. It still didn't seem real. They announced any and all flights in this country were being grounded at any available airport. Nobody wants to think they are greatly overreacting by fleeing their city, but nobody wants to be in a building when a plane crashes near it either. And I'll tell you, you never realize how weird it is to see zero airplanes in the sky until it happens. Nothing. Just blue as far as the eye could see. Not even a jet stream. And if you did see something, it was terrifying. You prayed it was just a bird.
I finally felt pretty safe once I was about 50 miles from the city. I mean, nobody crashes a plane into Ontario, CA, right? I was still so worried about Adam and everyone who stayed, but it seemed over now or like our military was taking action at least. The only good part of this drive is when I got the call that all the people we had flying back from New York were safe. Their planes had been grounded in other cities.
They had been on top of the towers the day before while sightseeing. The day before.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
I Doubt Anderson Cooper Will Travel That Far South....
So. Ariel Castro apparently choked himself out in prison.
I have tried to imagine my thoughts on that if I were one of his victims. I think the natural reaction after being freed from the suffering those girls experienced would be to want your captor to know the same feeling. Then again, to delight in that brings you do his level, does it not? Does eye for an eye ever really work? Personally, I'm not one bent on revenge. I think everyone gets what they put out there sooner or later whether we witness them get it or not.
The prosecutor had some interesting words on the situation:
"These degenerate molesters are cowards," Timothy J. McGinty said. "... This man couldn't take, for even a month, a small portion of what he had dished out for more than a decade."
I think that's thought-provoking. Or could he have been murdered? He was under protection. Doesn't that mean there's a camera viewing his cell at all times? Is there no footage of what happened? Either way, meh. Doesn't change much.
If I were one of those girls after learning of his sentence, sure, I'd be happy knowing death wasn't coming for him quickly, that he'd have to sit in a cell without being able to feed many of his compulsions, until he grew old and eventually died. Every inmate in there would know his face and we all know that prisoners don't exactly take kindly to men who commit sexual crimes against women or children. If he were ever released into the general population, I'm sure he'd get a bit of the punishment he inflicted on others.
But on the other hand, he'd also be entitled to some basic rights and privileges that his victims were not. Regular meals, TV, education, exercise, visitors, friendships, use of the Internet, etc. And most of all, protection. Even though it failed him, (or killed him if you think he was murdered) he was treated as special and he was monitored and kept separate from other inmates.
The one thing that sticks out to me about Ariel Castro is his personal statements in the courtroom. He truly didn't see himself as a monster. He's either an incredible actor, or a very sick sociopath to the nth degree. He placed blame on his victims, his upbringing, his ex-wife for her own death due to injuries she sustained by his hands, law enforcement for not finding his victims earlier, pretty much everyone besides himself. It was both disgusting and fascinating all at the same time.
So, the way I would reconcile all of this in my head if I were one of his victims is this: Ariel Castro was weaker than all three of us. He lasted only a month, in a protected cell, with plumbing and food and family visits knowing he could get a free education. Hell, he could even walk outside and feel the sun on his face. Probably once a day. But we lasted over a decade being starved, raped, beaten, traumatized and isolated, not knowing if we'd survive the next hour. We're free to live our lives as we choose and he's dead. He was so self-righteous in his courtroom speech, yet he was actually so broken, he didn't even possess the will to live. I can't imagine a worse punishment than being so mentally and emotionally damaged within your own self that you lose, one of if not the strongest human forces in existence. I'd shrug my shoulders and be relieved I wouldn't have to sit through future Dateline episodes watching him on CNN, talking about how we had "harmony". All the harmony I know exists in the thousands of tiny, white cotton fibers sewn together and wound around his neck to end his time on earth. And I seriously doubt they do interviews from hell.
I have tried to imagine my thoughts on that if I were one of his victims. I think the natural reaction after being freed from the suffering those girls experienced would be to want your captor to know the same feeling. Then again, to delight in that brings you do his level, does it not? Does eye for an eye ever really work? Personally, I'm not one bent on revenge. I think everyone gets what they put out there sooner or later whether we witness them get it or not.
The prosecutor had some interesting words on the situation:
"These degenerate molesters are cowards," Timothy J. McGinty said. "... This man couldn't take, for even a month, a small portion of what he had dished out for more than a decade."
I think that's thought-provoking. Or could he have been murdered? He was under protection. Doesn't that mean there's a camera viewing his cell at all times? Is there no footage of what happened? Either way, meh. Doesn't change much.
If I were one of those girls after learning of his sentence, sure, I'd be happy knowing death wasn't coming for him quickly, that he'd have to sit in a cell without being able to feed many of his compulsions, until he grew old and eventually died. Every inmate in there would know his face and we all know that prisoners don't exactly take kindly to men who commit sexual crimes against women or children. If he were ever released into the general population, I'm sure he'd get a bit of the punishment he inflicted on others.
But on the other hand, he'd also be entitled to some basic rights and privileges that his victims were not. Regular meals, TV, education, exercise, visitors, friendships, use of the Internet, etc. And most of all, protection. Even though it failed him, (or killed him if you think he was murdered) he was treated as special and he was monitored and kept separate from other inmates.
The one thing that sticks out to me about Ariel Castro is his personal statements in the courtroom. He truly didn't see himself as a monster. He's either an incredible actor, or a very sick sociopath to the nth degree. He placed blame on his victims, his upbringing, his ex-wife for her own death due to injuries she sustained by his hands, law enforcement for not finding his victims earlier, pretty much everyone besides himself. It was both disgusting and fascinating all at the same time.
So, the way I would reconcile all of this in my head if I were one of his victims is this: Ariel Castro was weaker than all three of us. He lasted only a month, in a protected cell, with plumbing and food and family visits knowing he could get a free education. Hell, he could even walk outside and feel the sun on his face. Probably once a day. But we lasted over a decade being starved, raped, beaten, traumatized and isolated, not knowing if we'd survive the next hour. We're free to live our lives as we choose and he's dead. He was so self-righteous in his courtroom speech, yet he was actually so broken, he didn't even possess the will to live. I can't imagine a worse punishment than being so mentally and emotionally damaged within your own self that you lose, one of if not the strongest human forces in existence. I'd shrug my shoulders and be relieved I wouldn't have to sit through future Dateline episodes watching him on CNN, talking about how we had "harmony". All the harmony I know exists in the thousands of tiny, white cotton fibers sewn together and wound around his neck to end his time on earth. And I seriously doubt they do interviews from hell.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Memory Lane Is Bumpy, Ya'll
1. I liked this guy once who was obsessed with the show LOST. Whenever he didn't ask and I wanted to hang out with him, I'd suggest we watch some LOST. Normally, we'd just end up making out. But he turned out to be a huge drunk who didn't have a checking account and kept his money in a pasta box in his cupboard like Hanna's mom on Pretty Little Liars. I also saw him kissing someone that was a rumored prostitute. I decided he probably wasn't a good idea after all.
2. Around 19 years old, I thought saltines with ketchup and mustard were a super good snack. And I wasn't even poor. No idea what was going on there.
3. When I first moved to LA, I called baklava "Jew cookies" in front of a Jew. Luckily, it was a nice Jew and she laughed before explaining to me I couldn't say things like that.
4. I was so obsessed with smelling Pine Sol that my friend once put some in a miniature bottle for me so I could take it anywhere. I'd go into a grocery store just to open it off a shelf and sniff it. I'd also pour some out of our bottle at home because "it smelled best when it wasn't brand new". People actually had to launch a Pine Sol intervention with me to get me to stop. I still miss it sometimes.
5. Every time I played with my baby dolls as a little girl, I pictured myself as a single mom and preferred it. High standards for my life, man.
6. I'm still unsure if the story of Green Eyes from 6th Grade Camp is true or a lie. I swear we really saw a wolf with glowing eyes in the woods directly before my friend Eileen fell in some ditch and twisted her ankle. Now, whenever we booze cruise past Camp Eberhart, I'm honestly still a little freaked out. I know people said it was kids with green paper over flashlights, but.... shit seemed real.
7. When I was 21, I was ridiculously obsessed with this soft ice from the Taco Bell on Westnedge in Kalamazoo that I'd go through the drive through every single day after class and order a large ice tea with extra ice and a large cup of just ice. I'd eat so much so fast that my mouth would go numb. I would also shower right when I got home so I'd have to pee in the shower almost every time because I couldn't wait.
8. I don't think I told my parents, but in my head, I was positive I lost the 3rd grade spelling bee because they didn't get me the puffy paint dress I wanted. In related news: I still tell people I won it. Some lies cannot be untold.
9. I got so fucking pissed that Jacob Robinson won the Young Authors competition at school because his mother did all of his illustrations and editing. That kid could barely spell. MY book was incredible. It was about a kid that was an orphan, but when he fell down some pothole, he was an underground king. I think it was called The Orphan King. And it was the motherfucking To Kill A Mockingbird of my 5th grade class. I told my mom to call the school and complain about Jacob. She told me to be happy with 3rd place. Fucking Jacob.
10. I was at my first boyfriend's house when I was about 17. It was time for me to go home, but he was out screwing around in his yard raking up leaves. My friend and I went out to find him and he jumped out of a tree right in front of us to scare us. Scare us, he did. I shit my pants. Like, a lot. I didn't say anything, went into his house, cleaned it up as best I could. I sat on a stack of magazines on the way home just in case anything was going to soak through on to his truck seat. I inched out backwards throwing a coat around my waste like no big ol deal and he never knew. Nobody did. I think I told the friend that was with me a few years ago. Or I just told her in this blog. Either way, I'm a pants-shitting ninja.
2. Around 19 years old, I thought saltines with ketchup and mustard were a super good snack. And I wasn't even poor. No idea what was going on there.
3. When I first moved to LA, I called baklava "Jew cookies" in front of a Jew. Luckily, it was a nice Jew and she laughed before explaining to me I couldn't say things like that.
4. I was so obsessed with smelling Pine Sol that my friend once put some in a miniature bottle for me so I could take it anywhere. I'd go into a grocery store just to open it off a shelf and sniff it. I'd also pour some out of our bottle at home because "it smelled best when it wasn't brand new". People actually had to launch a Pine Sol intervention with me to get me to stop. I still miss it sometimes.
5. Every time I played with my baby dolls as a little girl, I pictured myself as a single mom and preferred it. High standards for my life, man.
6. I'm still unsure if the story of Green Eyes from 6th Grade Camp is true or a lie. I swear we really saw a wolf with glowing eyes in the woods directly before my friend Eileen fell in some ditch and twisted her ankle. Now, whenever we booze cruise past Camp Eberhart, I'm honestly still a little freaked out. I know people said it was kids with green paper over flashlights, but.... shit seemed real.
7. When I was 21, I was ridiculously obsessed with this soft ice from the Taco Bell on Westnedge in Kalamazoo that I'd go through the drive through every single day after class and order a large ice tea with extra ice and a large cup of just ice. I'd eat so much so fast that my mouth would go numb. I would also shower right when I got home so I'd have to pee in the shower almost every time because I couldn't wait.
8. I don't think I told my parents, but in my head, I was positive I lost the 3rd grade spelling bee because they didn't get me the puffy paint dress I wanted. In related news: I still tell people I won it. Some lies cannot be untold.
9. I got so fucking pissed that Jacob Robinson won the Young Authors competition at school because his mother did all of his illustrations and editing. That kid could barely spell. MY book was incredible. It was about a kid that was an orphan, but when he fell down some pothole, he was an underground king. I think it was called The Orphan King. And it was the motherfucking To Kill A Mockingbird of my 5th grade class. I told my mom to call the school and complain about Jacob. She told me to be happy with 3rd place. Fucking Jacob.
10. I was at my first boyfriend's house when I was about 17. It was time for me to go home, but he was out screwing around in his yard raking up leaves. My friend and I went out to find him and he jumped out of a tree right in front of us to scare us. Scare us, he did. I shit my pants. Like, a lot. I didn't say anything, went into his house, cleaned it up as best I could. I sat on a stack of magazines on the way home just in case anything was going to soak through on to his truck seat. I inched out backwards throwing a coat around my waste like no big ol deal and he never knew. Nobody did. I think I told the friend that was with me a few years ago. Or I just told her in this blog. Either way, I'm a pants-shitting ninja.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Today, I Change The World. Tomorrow....I Watch Reruns Of The Hills
There are certain days when my heart/soul/brain combo is INTENSELY sensitive to everyone and everything. All words said to me evoke feelings I didn't know I had. Any article even remotely poignant sparks an interest in me to start a global revolution. Songs I have heard hundreds of times suddenly seem like brand new symphonies played by Mozart's ghost who has risen up just for this day. I decide to go back to college. I decide to marry an ex-boyfriend. I decide to adopt 3 kids from Indiana. I promise myself I'll drink more water and never procrastinate again. I swear I'll go to a Beyoncé concert next time she tours. Shit you not, I think I look like George Washington crossing the Delaware in that famous painting every time this happens. I am a juggernaut rocket ship of relevancy that absolutely can not be stopped.
I love these days. Because on other days, I eat an entire jar of salsa and watch Real Housewives of the OC.
I love these days. Because on other days, I eat an entire jar of salsa and watch Real Housewives of the OC.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
I Am Totally OK With Never Hearing These Songs Again
1. "Baby, I love your way". I have no idea who originated it, I don't care. Just get it out of my ears. Forever.
2. "Jammin" - Bob Marley. I'm sorry. I really am sorry, but.... I can't. I just can't.
3. "Get Lucky" - Daft Punk. The fact that it's so marketable that it can be played on pretty much every station in existence wore it out in about 37 seconds. NO MORE.
4. "Lights" - Ellie Goulding. You know why? Because this song came out about 2 years before it ever became popular and I'm ready for NEW stuff to be played by Ellie because she's amazing. Love her.
5. "I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You" - Savage Garden. This doesn't even make fucking sense! I wrote a ridiculous song called "White Heat Runnin' Through The Moonlight" when I was 9 years old that is better than this shit.
6. "The Cupid Shuffle" - Origins (thankfully) unknown. I don't love organized religion and I like organized dance even less. I'm sick of people taking perfectly catchy songs and making them into a damn line dance (I'm looking at you, Wobblers). Cut it out!
7. "Learning To Fly" - Tom Petty. Normally love him, something about this song irks me. No thanks.
8. "Old Time Rock And Roll" - Bob Seger. Again, big fan, but at some point every wedding DJ in the world got together and were like "This is it! This is the song that kicks off my set every time and people will DANCE". Same thing could be said for "Shook Me All Night Long", but it's sexy so I'll allow it.
9. "Redneck Crazy" - Tyler Farr. This song is a newcomer to radios everywhere and the hate portion of my brain. When I first heard it, I literally thought it was a parody song from SNL or something. I actually like country, but now every single time I turn to a country station anywhere, this song is playing. And this song can suck my dick. It's terrible and it's the very reason people hate this entire genre of music. Also, the girl from this song should call the police because dude is unstable. And pathetic.
10. Anything by Peter Frampton. WTF is that guy even doing with a microphone??? Terrible.
2. "Jammin" - Bob Marley. I'm sorry. I really am sorry, but.... I can't. I just can't.
3. "Get Lucky" - Daft Punk. The fact that it's so marketable that it can be played on pretty much every station in existence wore it out in about 37 seconds. NO MORE.
4. "Lights" - Ellie Goulding. You know why? Because this song came out about 2 years before it ever became popular and I'm ready for NEW stuff to be played by Ellie because she's amazing. Love her.
5. "I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You" - Savage Garden. This doesn't even make fucking sense! I wrote a ridiculous song called "White Heat Runnin' Through The Moonlight" when I was 9 years old that is better than this shit.
6. "The Cupid Shuffle" - Origins (thankfully) unknown. I don't love organized religion and I like organized dance even less. I'm sick of people taking perfectly catchy songs and making them into a damn line dance (I'm looking at you, Wobblers). Cut it out!
7. "Learning To Fly" - Tom Petty. Normally love him, something about this song irks me. No thanks.
8. "Old Time Rock And Roll" - Bob Seger. Again, big fan, but at some point every wedding DJ in the world got together and were like "This is it! This is the song that kicks off my set every time and people will DANCE". Same thing could be said for "Shook Me All Night Long", but it's sexy so I'll allow it.
9. "Redneck Crazy" - Tyler Farr. This song is a newcomer to radios everywhere and the hate portion of my brain. When I first heard it, I literally thought it was a parody song from SNL or something. I actually like country, but now every single time I turn to a country station anywhere, this song is playing. And this song can suck my dick. It's terrible and it's the very reason people hate this entire genre of music. Also, the girl from this song should call the police because dude is unstable. And pathetic.
10. Anything by Peter Frampton. WTF is that guy even doing with a microphone??? Terrible.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
The Woman Got Her Weave Stuck In A Fan And Still Ruled The Planet.
Sometimes, (all the time, really) you just need to fill yourself up with love. You need to totally stock your shit with love and light and positivity. You need to tell yourself that you're Beyonce even when you feel like Michelle. I mean, Michelle is pretty good. You could feel like you're the Octomom. It can always be worse. But it's not going to be if you just tell yourself it's not.
See the world through Beyonce-colored glasses. In fact, see the world through Sasha Fierce-colored glasses if that's your thing. As long as you cut out the bitchiness, lame attitude and cynicism because it's bumming me the fuck out, man.
*slides Lena Dunham-colored glasses back on face, struts away*
See the world through Beyonce-colored glasses. In fact, see the world through Sasha Fierce-colored glasses if that's your thing. As long as you cut out the bitchiness, lame attitude and cynicism because it's bumming me the fuck out, man.
*slides Lena Dunham-colored glasses back on face, struts away*
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Manifest Destiny??
I just read a BuzzFeed thread called "31 things people in Los Angeles love". Even though they were all true and extremely cliché, I just got this sad little pang down inside which then manifested itself into a pretty serious "I'm moving back to Los Angeles within 5 years" inner dialogue. My heart was saying things to my brain like "Remember how much you love The Grove? And how the weather is unbeatable? And all the really inexpensive pedicures?". That was happening. And though I haven't really missed the place that much until now, I really did love it there. And the more I think about it, the more I realize how much.
Maybe it's a phase.... or maybe it was all the excitement surrounding the Treyvon Martin riots....PMS? I guess we shall see....
Maybe it's a phase.... or maybe it was all the excitement surrounding the Treyvon Martin riots....PMS? I guess we shall see....
Sunday, May 19, 2013
If I Had A Band I Would Name It Invisible Cameltoe
It's been so long since I blogged that the site locked me out and acted like it didn't fucking remember me. NOT COOL. Really, not cool on my part. You get one boyfriend, a new job, a half-ass other boyfriend, move to a new city and state and you just forget your internet diary, man. I'll try to be better.
I don't have anything particularly awesome to speak on so I figured I'd just ramble for a few minutes, you know, to get the juices back to flowing. 'Spose I'll just.... list some recent observations of mine.
1. I need a pedicure to kick off the summer. My toes are just all fucked up, I don't even have a funny way to describe them.
2. I keep seeing random people rollerblading. Is that a thing again? Or do I have pot brownie flashbacks?
3. The Taco Bell Cantina menu is better than expected.
4. I'm one of those girls that now thinks about cute work out clothes for Pure Barre, but I'm not yet one of those girls who will spend $90 on yoga tights. I'll stick to the kind at JT Maxx.
5. I'm having a desperate love affair with TJ Maxx. And Marshall's. And HomeGoods.
6. My butt muscles have grown to the point where I need to start shopping for different brands of jeans that allow for more booty room. If not, my existing jeans yield to my glutes and pull back on my vag camel toe style. It's unfortunate.
7. I decided to go for a run/walk on the river trail tonight. Ran 3 blocks there, took 4 steps into the woods, immediately got 5 mosquito bites, went back home to shower and call it a day.
8. I want to eat ice pops. But they're just sugary water.
9. I also want ice cream. But it makes instant fat dimples on thighs.
10. Adult acne is the worst.
11. If I'm PMSing and my nail polish chips, I could literally fly into a rage or bawl my eyes out. Or both. Or eat a bowl of ice cream and feel better.
12. I thought seriously for the very first time a few days ago about wanting a dog. Then I spent the last $20 I had on a blouse, realized I would still do that even if my dog needed food, started drinking and stopped thinking about that.
13. I don't understand how restaurants keep their cooked chicken so soft and mine gets hard.... I don't get it.
14. Belly fat is really as hard to get rid of as all the magazines claim. Those fuckers. I want to walk around to every girl chugging beer and McDonald's on Michigan State's campus and smack it out of her hand with the warning "You have NO idea how hard it will be to stay in shape in 10-13 years. Don't eat this!"
15. Man, McDonald's sounds weirdly good, even after that rant. Fucking PMS.
I don't have anything particularly awesome to speak on so I figured I'd just ramble for a few minutes, you know, to get the juices back to flowing. 'Spose I'll just.... list some recent observations of mine.
1. I need a pedicure to kick off the summer. My toes are just all fucked up, I don't even have a funny way to describe them.
2. I keep seeing random people rollerblading. Is that a thing again? Or do I have pot brownie flashbacks?
3. The Taco Bell Cantina menu is better than expected.
4. I'm one of those girls that now thinks about cute work out clothes for Pure Barre, but I'm not yet one of those girls who will spend $90 on yoga tights. I'll stick to the kind at JT Maxx.
5. I'm having a desperate love affair with TJ Maxx. And Marshall's. And HomeGoods.
6. My butt muscles have grown to the point where I need to start shopping for different brands of jeans that allow for more booty room. If not, my existing jeans yield to my glutes and pull back on my vag camel toe style. It's unfortunate.
7. I decided to go for a run/walk on the river trail tonight. Ran 3 blocks there, took 4 steps into the woods, immediately got 5 mosquito bites, went back home to shower and call it a day.
8. I want to eat ice pops. But they're just sugary water.
9. I also want ice cream. But it makes instant fat dimples on thighs.
10. Adult acne is the worst.
11. If I'm PMSing and my nail polish chips, I could literally fly into a rage or bawl my eyes out. Or both. Or eat a bowl of ice cream and feel better.
12. I thought seriously for the very first time a few days ago about wanting a dog. Then I spent the last $20 I had on a blouse, realized I would still do that even if my dog needed food, started drinking and stopped thinking about that.
13. I don't understand how restaurants keep their cooked chicken so soft and mine gets hard.... I don't get it.
14. Belly fat is really as hard to get rid of as all the magazines claim. Those fuckers. I want to walk around to every girl chugging beer and McDonald's on Michigan State's campus and smack it out of her hand with the warning "You have NO idea how hard it will be to stay in shape in 10-13 years. Don't eat this!"
15. Man, McDonald's sounds weirdly good, even after that rant. Fucking PMS.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
My Two New Favorite Mini-Phrases And Their Real Meaning
Genitally Inept = Woman
Delusionally Humble = My ego
Delusionally Humble = My ego
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
FOOD AND SHOES
Bummers about moving to Michigan:
1. Not many TJ Maxx stores in the area
2. Always about 8 degrees colder and 5 inches snowier than Ohio.
3. No Poco Piatti, only one Chipotle
4. Mid Michigan is NOT set up grid-like
5. No Vito's Mediterranean pizza!!!! :(
Sweet ass shit about moving to Michigan:
1. No Ohio State fans.
2. Big Apple Bagles!
3. Grand Traverse Pie Company!
4. Way more lakes.
5. Dunkin Donuts!
6. More seafood restaurants
7. Pure Barre!
8. More hockey fans
9. A way bigger DSW shoe store
10. It's Michigan!!!
Side note: Clearly I like clothes, but I won't fit into any if I'm as big of a fat ass as the above lists states.
1. Not many TJ Maxx stores in the area
2. Always about 8 degrees colder and 5 inches snowier than Ohio.
3. No Poco Piatti, only one Chipotle
4. Mid Michigan is NOT set up grid-like
5. No Vito's Mediterranean pizza!!!! :(
Sweet ass shit about moving to Michigan:
1. No Ohio State fans.
2. Big Apple Bagles!
3. Grand Traverse Pie Company!
4. Way more lakes.
5. Dunkin Donuts!
6. More seafood restaurants
7. Pure Barre!
8. More hockey fans
9. A way bigger DSW shoe store
10. It's Michigan!!!
Side note: Clearly I like clothes, but I won't fit into any if I'm as big of a fat ass as the above lists states.
Monday, January 28, 2013
I'm About To Be Put On Trial For How Much I'm KILLING IT AT LIFE!
Ok, I honestly just have to take a minute to commemorate this moment in time because I'm absolutely CRUSHING IT AT LIFE right now. Oh, let me count the ways.
1. Became jobless in November after explaining to my former bosses how fucked up they are and that they're basically running a huge company (not to mention the souls of innocent employees) into the ground. Day before Thanksgiving - fired. Get out.
2. BUT then I rally, go home to Marcellus and work for the fam while totally reconnecting with the babyest of the baby sisters just in time for her to start her period and, guess what? SAME CYCLE AS ME! Awesome. I'm here to help you cope.
3. Got in massive passive aggressive argument with boyfriend where I basically told him to nut up or shut up and he is slowly trying to nut up. But, that being said, as he tried to pull it out of the gutter, told him "Um, take your time, I'm going to date other people" thinking "I'm not really dating other people", BUT uh, yeah. I am. Accidentally. Yeah, you read that right. A couple of random foxes just fell into my lap. Now I have to budget my time wisely.
4. Walked in to Sprint, got free iPhone. Now I'm basically connected to all humanity in a way I never knew possible.
5. After 4 interviews and a grueling 13 page personality test, I landed a kick ass job back in Michigan. If I don't fuck it all up like a snake tornado, it will only get better and better with even bigger paychecks. College?? UNNECESSARY.
6. Discovered the show GIRLS; improved my comedy and grammar in the 4.5 hours I spent watching it. Started following them all on Twitter. Done. Killed.
7. Went tanning one time, just to get a base, came out golden brown-looking like I own summer.
8. Decided to test the baldness of my tires on Guards Prairie road on CC's birthday, slid the whole way while donutting into the driveway laughing. Managed to avoid a swamp and a Ford Taurus carrying mail. Amazing. Also, drank until I blacked out and woke up with no hangover. Boom.
9. Got earlier mentioned job in a town 2 hours away with little to no plan on how to get there. Friend disguised as an angel steps up and calls me to tell me I'll be staying with her and her lawyer boyfriend in their lake house with an already-shoveled hockey rink in front of it. AND that she also set up a meeting with a future roommate for cheap rent until I want to get my own place. THANKS, UNIVERSE!!
10. Took cookies to the last day at my temp job, got handed 3 numbers on the way out from dudes that want to hit this. I won't call any of them because they're clearly beneath me in every way, but still, it's nice to know others think this perfect peach skin and waterfall of strawberry blonde silk are as fucking spectac as I do.
1. Became jobless in November after explaining to my former bosses how fucked up they are and that they're basically running a huge company (not to mention the souls of innocent employees) into the ground. Day before Thanksgiving - fired. Get out.
2. BUT then I rally, go home to Marcellus and work for the fam while totally reconnecting with the babyest of the baby sisters just in time for her to start her period and, guess what? SAME CYCLE AS ME! Awesome. I'm here to help you cope.
3. Got in massive passive aggressive argument with boyfriend where I basically told him to nut up or shut up and he is slowly trying to nut up. But, that being said, as he tried to pull it out of the gutter, told him "Um, take your time, I'm going to date other people" thinking "I'm not really dating other people", BUT uh, yeah. I am. Accidentally. Yeah, you read that right. A couple of random foxes just fell into my lap. Now I have to budget my time wisely.
4. Walked in to Sprint, got free iPhone. Now I'm basically connected to all humanity in a way I never knew possible.
5. After 4 interviews and a grueling 13 page personality test, I landed a kick ass job back in Michigan. If I don't fuck it all up like a snake tornado, it will only get better and better with even bigger paychecks. College?? UNNECESSARY.
6. Discovered the show GIRLS; improved my comedy and grammar in the 4.5 hours I spent watching it. Started following them all on Twitter. Done. Killed.
7. Went tanning one time, just to get a base, came out golden brown-looking like I own summer.
8. Decided to test the baldness of my tires on Guards Prairie road on CC's birthday, slid the whole way while donutting into the driveway laughing. Managed to avoid a swamp and a Ford Taurus carrying mail. Amazing. Also, drank until I blacked out and woke up with no hangover. Boom.
9. Got earlier mentioned job in a town 2 hours away with little to no plan on how to get there. Friend disguised as an angel steps up and calls me to tell me I'll be staying with her and her lawyer boyfriend in their lake house with an already-shoveled hockey rink in front of it. AND that she also set up a meeting with a future roommate for cheap rent until I want to get my own place. THANKS, UNIVERSE!!
10. Took cookies to the last day at my temp job, got handed 3 numbers on the way out from dudes that want to hit this. I won't call any of them because they're clearly beneath me in every way, but still, it's nice to know others think this perfect peach skin and waterfall of strawberry blonde silk are as fucking spectac as I do.
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