Nobody Likes An Over-Sugared Infant

It's been a real week!

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

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

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

Election Shmellelection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know

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

Just A Thought

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Several reasons:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go me!