After all this time, here is a brief list of the things JD still doesn't understand about me:
1. Why I would ever set foot in a TJ Maxx, mid-range chain restaurant (aside for the California Pizza Kitchen in Somerset) or a campground.
2. That I CAN ski, I just prefer not to as I hate being cold and sliding downhill.
3. How Busch Light doesn't actually kill me upon entering my mouth.
4. Why I get furious when he constantly begs me to go see a movie....at 10:30 on a week night. Also, how I could possibly deny him fingering me in the theater when he's bored during a movie I choose.
5. How I own so few 100% cashmere sweaters and blazers.
6. Why I use an alarm to wake up. Why I choose to show up on time for work. Or at all.
7. Why I get irritated if he takes his 2 hour lunches at the strip club.
8. How I don't want to stay up until 2am watching Dexter with him regularly.
9. Why I would ever turn on the ringer of my phone. Also, how I don't lose my phone once a week.
10. The names of my parents.
11. Why I hang up when he leaves me on hold for longer than 5 minutes.
12. Why I don't take a vacation to Florida with him for the entire month of February.
13. Why I ask him to wear his seatbelt and to not drive 20 mph over the speed limit.
14. How "I JUST had a heart attack" doesn't still work on me when he does something wrong.
15. Why the waist of my yoga pants comes up so high.
16. That it takes me longer than 15 minutes to be showered and ready for a party.
17. How I still tolerate him.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Monday, September 22, 2014
If PLSs Are Basic, I Don't Even Want To Be Bad.
I have had a splendid time in my day judging girls, but this whole Basic Bitch/Bad Bitch fight has to get sorted out. You know why? Because it's fall and I want to do a bunch of really basic ass shit and I consider myself a straight up Bad Bitch for life.
You know what makes someone Basic? Doing something because everyone else does it. If you're kicking it in the Midwest with chunky highlights or an inverted bob and some chandelier earrings, you basic, girl. You need to get your shit sorted and look at some magazines and exit 2004. Those things can't even be considered classic, they're just no bueno. Do not be afraid of what the other moms at daycare would say, they're Basic as Fuck too. It's totally ok to try out that look you saw on Kate Hudson that one time. Now, if you know the basic things you're wearing are tragically uncool, have given it some extra thought and decided "You know what? This is how I look best and I'm gonna run with this! Tunics and puffy vests forever!" then, strut those mom jeans, girl. STRUT. With pride. We can't all look cutting edge all the time! I wear loafers every second someone doesn't forcefully take them off my feet and though the people around me collectively sigh every time they see them coming, I think I look like Michael fucking Jackson, but cooler and a better dancer. So fuck everyone. I woke up like dis.
It's now fall. The most Basic time of year. What honestly tends to cause all of us to look slightly basic in this season is the changing weather. It's not always easy to look fierce as hell when it's 40 degrees and raining. Sometimes one must wear some chore boots and a parka and carry around a latte because it's necessary. Now, can those be American flag or rose print chore boots and a lace bomber jacket instead? Sure they can, if you're me and you want to piss off your very tasteful and conservative loved ones. Go for it! I live to see the cringing.
And you know what else?? If I want to wear a chunky turtleneck sweater and vintage riding boots and stand in a pumpkin patch taking a selfie while drinking apple cider, I'm going to fucking do it. I'm going to do it ALL DAY LONG. In fact, I'll post whatever GD Instagram I choose. Fall foliage in Grosse Pointe? You bet. The back of my dude's head as he reads the newspaper with #adorbs? Fuck yes. My first PSL (and if you don't know what that stands for, just quit life now) held up against a cloudy sky? You bet! Cornfield-lined dirt roads? Fuck yes again. It's not like I'm getting fake nails with French manicures, for fucks sake, it's just some simple seasonal clichés! They're tradition! Still Bad Bitch Status.
And while I'm at Pure Barre, in my chore boots and Patagonia, while sipping a latte and taking a selfie and tagging myself there I will still be #flawless.
You know what makes someone Basic? Doing something because everyone else does it. If you're kicking it in the Midwest with chunky highlights or an inverted bob and some chandelier earrings, you basic, girl. You need to get your shit sorted and look at some magazines and exit 2004. Those things can't even be considered classic, they're just no bueno. Do not be afraid of what the other moms at daycare would say, they're Basic as Fuck too. It's totally ok to try out that look you saw on Kate Hudson that one time. Now, if you know the basic things you're wearing are tragically uncool, have given it some extra thought and decided "You know what? This is how I look best and I'm gonna run with this! Tunics and puffy vests forever!" then, strut those mom jeans, girl. STRUT. With pride. We can't all look cutting edge all the time! I wear loafers every second someone doesn't forcefully take them off my feet and though the people around me collectively sigh every time they see them coming, I think I look like Michael fucking Jackson, but cooler and a better dancer. So fuck everyone. I woke up like dis.
It's now fall. The most Basic time of year. What honestly tends to cause all of us to look slightly basic in this season is the changing weather. It's not always easy to look fierce as hell when it's 40 degrees and raining. Sometimes one must wear some chore boots and a parka and carry around a latte because it's necessary. Now, can those be American flag or rose print chore boots and a lace bomber jacket instead? Sure they can, if you're me and you want to piss off your very tasteful and conservative loved ones. Go for it! I live to see the cringing.
And you know what else?? If I want to wear a chunky turtleneck sweater and vintage riding boots and stand in a pumpkin patch taking a selfie while drinking apple cider, I'm going to fucking do it. I'm going to do it ALL DAY LONG. In fact, I'll post whatever GD Instagram I choose. Fall foliage in Grosse Pointe? You bet. The back of my dude's head as he reads the newspaper with #adorbs? Fuck yes. My first PSL (and if you don't know what that stands for, just quit life now) held up against a cloudy sky? You bet! Cornfield-lined dirt roads? Fuck yes again. It's not like I'm getting fake nails with French manicures, for fucks sake, it's just some simple seasonal clichés! They're tradition! Still Bad Bitch Status.
And while I'm at Pure Barre, in my chore boots and Patagonia, while sipping a latte and taking a selfie and tagging myself there I will still be #flawless.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Now I Want A Slice Of Pizza And A Latte
Holy balls, been a month since I blogged. Back to my old ways again. Too busy with the 3 dimensional people.
Every year on 9/11 I write about that day. Maybe I did it because it was one of the scariest days of my life. Maybe I did it because I was grateful I was alive and everyone I cared about made it out safely. I'm not sure. I don't want to write about it anymore. So many of the posts read "never forget", well how could you? If you experienced that day the way a lot of us did, forgetting is not an issue. That fear and sorrow and uncertainty is burned on you forever. But I don't want to relive that day anymore just to remember.
The last time I was in New York, it was a really beautiful, mild, sunny weekend. We were strolling around and laughing and I was taking one billion pictures, natch. I remember staring up at the new tower SO bright in the sunshine and walking by the site of the others. So many years later, that day is still very evident in that area. They don't need reminding and they will certainly never forget. It's very heavy.
What I think about most with New York is just happily walking around, slight buzz from day drinking, laughing, arm in arm with him while wearing the new grey jacket I just bought, really enjoying the city. Drunk out of my mind on champagne grinding in the club. Leaning my head on him in a cab. I remember watching kids blowing bubbles in Central Park. I think I still have pictures of them on my phone. It's a happy place. A bustling, loud, Starbucks covered, booming laughter, neighborhood bar joking, candlelit cocktails, be whoever you want, blending into the bricks happy place for me. I feel very relaxed and at home in that city.
Those are the kinds of things I never forget.
Every year on 9/11 I write about that day. Maybe I did it because it was one of the scariest days of my life. Maybe I did it because I was grateful I was alive and everyone I cared about made it out safely. I'm not sure. I don't want to write about it anymore. So many of the posts read "never forget", well how could you? If you experienced that day the way a lot of us did, forgetting is not an issue. That fear and sorrow and uncertainty is burned on you forever. But I don't want to relive that day anymore just to remember.
The last time I was in New York, it was a really beautiful, mild, sunny weekend. We were strolling around and laughing and I was taking one billion pictures, natch. I remember staring up at the new tower SO bright in the sunshine and walking by the site of the others. So many years later, that day is still very evident in that area. They don't need reminding and they will certainly never forget. It's very heavy.
What I think about most with New York is just happily walking around, slight buzz from day drinking, laughing, arm in arm with him while wearing the new grey jacket I just bought, really enjoying the city. Drunk out of my mind on champagne grinding in the club. Leaning my head on him in a cab. I remember watching kids blowing bubbles in Central Park. I think I still have pictures of them on my phone. It's a happy place. A bustling, loud, Starbucks covered, booming laughter, neighborhood bar joking, candlelit cocktails, be whoever you want, blending into the bricks happy place for me. I feel very relaxed and at home in that city.
Those are the kinds of things I never forget.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
I Gotta Go See About A Girl
What a deep and terrible loss to the world. Robin Williams. I mean, you just had to stare at the guy. It seemed that life shot out of him in a million different ways.
I don't understand mental illness. I really don't. I try, because I know I have friends that suffer from it, but I really fail. I don't understand how you can't make yourself stronger, better. I'm naïve, stubborn and full of myself, so I guess I thank God for that. I truly believe I can fix anything that is wrong with me. Little help from doctors and surgeons and friends at times, of course, but beyond that, I can make myself stronger and better. That's just the way my brain works.
But, I also know how deeply loved I am. Even in moments when I'm pissy and down or feeling lonely even in a big room of people. Even when I'm being bratty. I know that I am loved and cherished beyond what I can even understand and that I am someone's daughter, someone's sister, someone's friend, someone's example, and the love of someone's life and if I hurt, they hurt. I know that's how I feel about my loved ones.
I always felt that I was put on this earth to make people laugh, make them feel cared about, make them smile, take care of them, make sure they know that someone thinks about them even if they don't hear it every day. I avoid what feels bad to me and I soak in love and laughter like a human sponge. I can't get or give enough love. I really can't. I'm not always graceful about it as I have a lot of my mother in me, but I feel it at all times.
And I'm not one to put my sadness out there all the time for the masses on social media or anything, but when I'm sad I just say it out loud. "I'm so sad right now". Something about saying it, to someone, in the room with you, really releases it from you. And that friend will either be like "Get your shit together" or they'll say "I know you are, I am too, it will get better.". And it does a little in that moment. And I instantly feel that.
If you're sad, tell someone. Because there are a lot of people like me in the world that will want to help you feel better. Or at the very least, (if I'm having a day that I'm more like my mother than my father) we'll tell you to get your shit together. It is a true miracle that we are all even here, walking around, so be kind to each other and support each other and put as much happiness into each other as you can because it's truly all that matters. At the end of it all, nobody is going to give a single fuck about what you had or how cool you thought you were, they're going to remember how you made them feel. Give yourself away, freely, openly. Fall in love with as many people, places and things as possible because we are here for a blink. Make it a good blink.
I don't understand mental illness. I really don't. I try, because I know I have friends that suffer from it, but I really fail. I don't understand how you can't make yourself stronger, better. I'm naïve, stubborn and full of myself, so I guess I thank God for that. I truly believe I can fix anything that is wrong with me. Little help from doctors and surgeons and friends at times, of course, but beyond that, I can make myself stronger and better. That's just the way my brain works.
But, I also know how deeply loved I am. Even in moments when I'm pissy and down or feeling lonely even in a big room of people. Even when I'm being bratty. I know that I am loved and cherished beyond what I can even understand and that I am someone's daughter, someone's sister, someone's friend, someone's example, and the love of someone's life and if I hurt, they hurt. I know that's how I feel about my loved ones.
I always felt that I was put on this earth to make people laugh, make them feel cared about, make them smile, take care of them, make sure they know that someone thinks about them even if they don't hear it every day. I avoid what feels bad to me and I soak in love and laughter like a human sponge. I can't get or give enough love. I really can't. I'm not always graceful about it as I have a lot of my mother in me, but I feel it at all times.
And I'm not one to put my sadness out there all the time for the masses on social media or anything, but when I'm sad I just say it out loud. "I'm so sad right now". Something about saying it, to someone, in the room with you, really releases it from you. And that friend will either be like "Get your shit together" or they'll say "I know you are, I am too, it will get better.". And it does a little in that moment. And I instantly feel that.
If you're sad, tell someone. Because there are a lot of people like me in the world that will want to help you feel better. Or at the very least, (if I'm having a day that I'm more like my mother than my father) we'll tell you to get your shit together. It is a true miracle that we are all even here, walking around, so be kind to each other and support each other and put as much happiness into each other as you can because it's truly all that matters. At the end of it all, nobody is going to give a single fuck about what you had or how cool you thought you were, they're going to remember how you made them feel. Give yourself away, freely, openly. Fall in love with as many people, places and things as possible because we are here for a blink. Make it a good blink.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Things I'm Super Fucking Over
- Hormones.
- Pepperoni
- Cuticle care
- Prenatal vitamins
- My phone vibrating
- Cintas invoices
- The smell of my laundry room
- Shitty SYTYCD routines
- Eyebrow maintenance
- Pellegrino
- Texas
- Ebola
- Spring mix
- Cramping
- Appointments of any kind
- Pepperoni
- Cuticle care
- Prenatal vitamins
- My phone vibrating
- Cintas invoices
- The smell of my laundry room
- Shitty SYTYCD routines
- Eyebrow maintenance
- Pellegrino
- Texas
- Ebola
- Spring mix
- Cramping
- Appointments of any kind
Thursday, July 17, 2014
High On Pills At Work
Dear Mr. Spina,
The Office of Melissa Johnson sincerely thanks you for your recent inquiry into the health and well being of her mouth. Her dental procedure went very well and, after several "pill parties", she is feeling much better! The working order of said mouth for certain "activities" is on a TBD basis for now, but should be up and running quite soon, and we appreciate your patience in this matter.
An EXTRA thanks is extended to you for choosing, for once, not to take the Lord's name in vain during your already profanity-laced jokefest regarding the manner in which Ms. Johnson injured her mouth. She has been listening to Take Me To Church by Hozier at your request on repeat, and yes, the lyrics are lovely and very fitting, a nice comfort in this trying time.
Again, Ms. Johnson is very grateful for your continued support and concern.
All The Very Best,
Melissa's Future New Assistant - Whose First Day Is August 4 (and I imagine this is how she'll write my emails)
PS: Ms. Johnson has declined your request to "take some of the pills off her hands".
The Office of Melissa Johnson sincerely thanks you for your recent inquiry into the health and well being of her mouth. Her dental procedure went very well and, after several "pill parties", she is feeling much better! The working order of said mouth for certain "activities" is on a TBD basis for now, but should be up and running quite soon, and we appreciate your patience in this matter.
An EXTRA thanks is extended to you for choosing, for once, not to take the Lord's name in vain during your already profanity-laced jokefest regarding the manner in which Ms. Johnson injured her mouth. She has been listening to Take Me To Church by Hozier at your request on repeat, and yes, the lyrics are lovely and very fitting, a nice comfort in this trying time.
Again, Ms. Johnson is very grateful for your continued support and concern.
All The Very Best,
Melissa's Future New Assistant - Whose First Day Is August 4 (and I imagine this is how she'll write my emails)
PS: Ms. Johnson has declined your request to "take some of the pills off her hands".
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
A Good Old Fashioned Yank & Tweet
Definitely considering live tweeting my tooth being pulled today while I'm all gassed up. I don't know my dentist's policy on this, but he seems to really like me and I wore a low-cut tank top today so I have a feeling he'll say yes. For what he's charging me, he should really allow this. In fact, I should be able to dictate tweets to a dental assistant who should simultaneously be taking pictures and Instagraming them with filters of her choosing.
Last time I was on gas I remember having a fucking great time. In fact, every time I'm quite heavily sedated or medicated, I have a ball. After my last surgery, I was hitting on a male nurse WHILE HE WAS HOLDING A BEDPAN UNDERNEATH ME. Sexy as hell. Adam Newman found it rather hilarious. I assume the nurse was turned on and had a raging boner as most men do when a woman is urinating in front of them.
Fuck inhibitions when you've got pharmaceutical grade drug brain, y'all. Ride that wave!
Last time I was on gas I remember having a fucking great time. In fact, every time I'm quite heavily sedated or medicated, I have a ball. After my last surgery, I was hitting on a male nurse WHILE HE WAS HOLDING A BEDPAN UNDERNEATH ME. Sexy as hell. Adam Newman found it rather hilarious. I assume the nurse was turned on and had a raging boner as most men do when a woman is urinating in front of them.
Fuck inhibitions when you've got pharmaceutical grade drug brain, y'all. Ride that wave!
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