a silly little life

I'll be OK...Just not Today...Or Tomorrow

2022-11-10T02:27:00.004-06:00

I mentioned I got married. Well just to emphasize the name of this blog, I am sharing the silly little existence that is me.

It didn't work out for us. We tried. But 3 1/2 years later and my little family is no mas. It's heartbreaking. It's confusing. Painful, a little embarrassing and worst of all, its HARD. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would get divorced. Get this: not one person on my dad's side of the family has ever been divorced. Well, one couple--but they GOT BACK TOGETHER!

So I find myself in this predicament of feeling like a failure. But truthfully, I can look back and know that I really, really tried to make it work. I am sure he did, too, but we have different backgrounds, different love languages and the worst: different senses of humor. Killer.

Things are as amicable as can be, but we do have the occasional heated argument about having had really heated arguments! He is taking five ever to move out, so I am painfully and slowly watching the demise of my time with this man who I thought was my person. He can be so kind. He is so incredibly handy around the house, and he is handsome. I'll never say we just stopped loving each other or the attraction was gone. In fact, we have gotten along better the past few weeks than possibly our entire relationship.

Here is what truly sucks about a breakup: you lose your best friend. You lose your normalcy, whether it was enjoyable or not. Tonight I found myself breaking down in tears because I realized in a couple nights he will legit be gone and I won't know what to do. It always bugged me that we didn't have date nights, but honestly, for a long time we just couldn't afford it. He's a homebody. I like to get out and try new places, have dinners and drinks with friends. It just wasn't something that was a priority though. I could write a letter of recommendation for this man (with a few "just so you knows") because he deserves to be happy and to find his match. We all do. Except maybe Jeffrey Dahmer...too MANY matches, possibly??

Looking back: was this a match made in heaven that was supposed to end happily ever after? I'm not sure. But neither of us thought forever was too long. I think back to when we started dating, and I could tell he didn't fit the "mold" I had always imagined in a partner, but I just changed my perspective about any romantic notion of soul mates and the "meet cute" (Truly, my life has never once represented a romantic comedy anyway).

There is a policy that I definitely try to live by: no regrets. I have 2, but that is for another day. I don't and will never regret a single moment I spent with this man, no matter how hard things may have gotten. But life is short and should we really spend it trying to change each other?

And by the way that old adage is true -- you know who your friends are when you're down for the count. Family, too. So, what is next for me, for him? Too early to tell. Check back in a while.

Fireside Chat

2019-11-15T01:38:00.000-06:00

It's been about 3 years since I wrote on this. Whoops. Have since gotten a few different jobs, bought a home, gotten married and become a stepmom. That's for another post.

Tonight has made me chuckle quite a bit to myself, but I have the tendency to crack myself up. Truth be told: I have fairly bad gas. Not something I'm relishing in making public, but it happens to everyone. So, anyway--back to my story.

I am a "newlywed", which I only put quotations around simply because it seems like a term for younger couples, not us. Whatever. We have a fireplace and the very second the temperature drops below 70 we are searching for firewood. In fact, we probably should have gotten married in the winter so people would have been able to give us firewood as a wedding gift.

As a kid I was a little tiny bit of a pyro. Can anyone honestly say they were not?

So, growing up and having a fireplace that is purely natural is like a childhood dream come true. I throw everything in there! Magazines, junk mail, old receipts, etc. Tonight I was honestly contemplating throwing in my empty bottle of wine just to see.

As I was putting another log on (the heat downstairs isn't working), I tooted. I was by myself, it did not smell like roses and so I laughed out loud. Then came the deja vu, back to being 19 and in the middle of nowhere in Alabama. I was a freshman in college, a new pledge and we were on a pledge retreat at someone's friend's family's lawyer's financial advisor's lake house. It was actually one of the better memories I have of being at the University of Alabama.

My friend from Augusta, Georgia, Gabby, showed a couple of us that farts really do light on fire. We were all incredulous. But sure enough, later on that night there were about 3 of us outside smoking cigarettes on the porch and Gabby exclaimed, "Watch, I wasn't kidding!" Before we even have the chance to ask what the hell she means, she rolls on her back with her feet still Indian-style and puts the lighter right up against her bum. Sure enough, POOF! It was like magic or something!

I knew for a fact that nothing was going to be a hazard--jeans do not catch on fire. But I can only think of about 3 other times in my life I have laughed that hard. This Southern Belle was showing us how flammable human farts can be. And she was farting at will!

Longest story in the world short: my husband and I were kinda getting into a heated discussion about something or other, and I again tooted. It was quiet and kinda stinky, but he didn't say anything. Normally he does, so I knew he was either madder than I estimated or drunk. I was looking at the fireplace and felt a metaphorical blanket wrap around me. I won't go into specific details of what was going through my mind, but it was enough to end whatever the issue was.

Despite growing up and becoming an actual "adult" with a home, a job, bills, kids and all that jazz, it doesn't hurt to let the comfort of being 19 and completely clueless with a couple of girlfriends, cigarettes and beer wash over you. It puts things into perspective. At least it does for me. I guess I find comfort in this: I had no idea how good I had it, had no idea what the hell I was going to do with my life, but knew I was a member of a great family that would be horrified at lighting farts on fire, but happy that pure contentment came from that encounter. Granted, it is not a story often told at holidays and one that would cause my dad to rub his head to make sure his part was nice and strong.

I'm 38 years old, and tonight the idea of getting my toosh closer to the fireplace to see what would happen actually crossed my mind.

Please feel free to judge me all you want. But, hey, whatever works, right?

I HAVE MISSED WRITING AND HOPE SOMEONE READS THIS AND LAUGHS.

I'm Back

2016-06-14T21:36:00.000-05:00

For the 3 people out there that actually read this (thank you by the way), yes, it's been quite a while since I posted. And a lot's happened...and really not that much has changed.

My big brother got married, family members had babies...yada, yada. This blog is about me and my perspective on my ridiculous life, so that's what I am going to write about.

So, I've dipped my toe--actually, it's up to my calf--in the dating pool. It's brutal. It's gruesome, not for the feint of heart or thin-skinned. There is absolutely no shortage of freaks, stupidity or heartbreak. I should know, I have been in love 7.4 times since October.

I've learned that sadly, the worst thing a guy can give a single girl is hope. A promise. I've learned that opening car doors, paying the check and an amazing good night kiss don't amount to anything if he doesn't text back. Karma is surely out there and so is my phone number, unfortunately! I've been humiliated, adored, stood up, ridiculed, surprised, complimented and confused. I've cried so hard and felt like such a loser that I considered moving to Vermont and becoming a farmer.

Distance has been no obstacle: I've driven north and south looking for Mr. Right. I've embarrassed myself, been catfished and kissed more frogs than I can count. Sadly more than one penis picture has been sent my way and a couple too many requests for pictures of my feet. I shudder sitting here thinking about it.

There are single doctors, lawyers, bartenders, key-fob collectors (yes that's apparently a career), mechanics, "entrepreneurs"and many, many more out there. So why aren't any of them the right guy for me?

Because I am not the right girl for them. In a big, big way. I'm a whole lot to take, probably too much. I talk too much, hate playing the game, say things like they are and am (embarrassingly) admittedly very eager to find someone to accept my love. I'm also impatient and know my worth so I get very frustrated when a guy can't realize right away how amazing I am and fall madly in love with me. Isn't that what all those movies have taught us?? It doesn't matter how obnoxious or ridiculous you are, the handsome guy becomes smitten and they live happily ever after...I'm here to tell you 14-year-old girls that is exactly not what happens!

There's no rhyme, reason or mathematical equation that can explain how it all works out and people end up with one another. It's like they say on "Seinfeld":

Jerry: What percentage of the population do you think is good looking?
Elaine: Like twenty, twenty-five percent.
Elaine: How are all these people getting together?

Jerry: Alcohol.

How to Lose a Guy Before the First Date

2015-05-19T13:09:00.002-05:00

I've been so hesitant to get out in the dating world. Either I was too insecure, couldn't keep up with the games involved or just never met anyone who inspired those kinds of feelings. But it really has been so long since I've even had a date that I became concerned people had started to question my sexuality (not that there's anything wrong with that!). I've done Match.com and met only jerks. I tried Zoosk (please don't ask why, I guess the commercial got me) and was totally creeped out by those guys. And I had a hard time kinda figuring out the app.

My friend CeCe had been on Tinder and was having fun flirting, even met a couple guys. So I thought I would get my toes wet and try it out. After a few days a seemingly cute guy named Mike started chatting me up. We hit it off pretty quickly--smart and a great sense of humor. Best part was he seemed to pick up on my sarcasm which is not something I have an easy time with. Plus, there was no greater feeling than seeing "It's a Match!" if you swiped right.

Our schedules were never matching up so it took a while to actually even set a date to meet. But we spent all day every day texting each other. It was so nice, having someone to talk to and getting to know. I felt a little wanted, even interesting. I was starting to understand what the fun parts of dating were like.

I'm not sure what happened next or where things went south. Maybe he came in the store where I work and didn't like what he saw. Maybe he confused me with someone else. Maybe he's married. Maybe this is all just another Catfish situation. Every possible scenario was going through my head. The insecurities I suffer from the most were winning and I was certain he had seen me and blown me off. I was devastated. Hurt. Embarrassed.

But then as quickly as he was gone he was back again. We had plans and were finally going out the next night. I was so relieved and felt excited that it might actually work out.

The next night came. And went. Not a word. Nothing. I had been so upset two days before that I chose the opposite side of the spectrum: something had come up and this was not going to be the end of our story. It was just my luck that he would be lying in a hospital bed with a burst appendix. But past experiences told me that I was being treated like shit.

Why share such an embarrassing story? I honestly don't know. Maybe so I can explain to someone--anyone--who I am. And, shamefully and humorously, if Mike does read this maybe he can understand that I am here if all he needs is a friend. Plus, there's a picture of me on this blog and I've been scared he went to the store where I work and mistook me for someone else!!!

I was sad and hurt and just very confused. And yeah, pretty pissed because I think I'm a great catch and there is nothing worse than knowing something and not being able to show or teach it! I have love to give, and compassion, and wouldn't mind having a partner in crime--especially one that makes me laugh. I want to be someone's safe place, companion and support system.

Three days went by before I heard from him again. No shit, this is what his line was: "Sup". In a text. I was so furious but at the same time so pathetically relieved that he was reaching out. That's the sickest part--I was ready to forget his disappearing act and go out if he asked! Dating is not for the faint of heart. It's not for the humble. I once got a fortune cookie that said, "Love is for the lucky and the brave". It feels so true. And what is braver than getting out there after being kicked while you're down?? Just put a Band-Aid on it and head back to the battlefield!

When you go for a long time without any type of affection or intimacy you are so vulnerable you'll take what you can get. You'll compromise even though you know you can do better. But what if you can't? And what if this is the only chance? And then you think, "if we can just get past this awkward part everything might fall into place". Maybe this is too self-righteous, but I know I am overdue for something really great. And if anything looks remotely like it, I've gotta chase the Hell out of it. I have to make it happen. This, whatever "it" is, has to be "it" because I simply cannot suffer anymore. Besides, I've seen enough romantic comedies to know that things have a 1% chance of ending out perfectly (and maybe Karma is finally coming around).

So while there were a million questions I wanted to ask I didn't want to spook him! Rihanna said it best, "Never underestimate a man's ability to make you feel guilty for his mistakes". I'd been in a relationship of that exact sort and have spent the past 10 years trying to learn from it and become a stronger, self-loving woman. We chatted via text, but I was doubting his sanity at this point. Is this guy a schizophrenic? A Catfish? After some terse and very limited banter, and as humiliating as this is to admit, I then asked him to come over for a drink that night. A couple hours later I asked if I was freaking him out. Then about 4 or 5 hours later (and a bottle of wine) I sent him a text that just said "I thought you liked me?" Pathetic, sad and desperate.

I know I came on strong--I know I should have played it much cooler. I am just impulsive, passionate and curious. Why it can sometimes (very rarely) be charming or show my sincerity in someone else, I can see how it can be too much in royal blue highlighted text.

Why invite a strange, possibly insane man over for an alcoholic drink? First, I was intrigued and was dying to see what had happened. Second, I was not about to suggest a place where I could be stood up so publicly. Third, I wasn't at my house--I was staying at someone's taking care of their dogs. And, fourth, because at this point I just didn't give 2 shits if he killed me or not! I was incredibly close to giving up anyway (meant for dramatic effect).

So what do I do? I know what I am supposed to do: not care, forget him and move on with my life. Am I so lonely that I cannot possibly keep any dignity or self-respect? Best case scenario I do hear from him and he actually shows up. Worst case I keep reaching out hoping he'll take the bait.

I need things spelled out for me. I cannot take a hint. And honestly, I can take whatever reason you don't like me. I'm tough enough for all that. But I would really, really like to know. It helps me know what to do in the future. No one has ever really taught me this stuff I don't think. Or maybe they have tried and I didn't listen. It's more likely the latter I'm sure.

I've heard that dating is not what it used to be. I wish it was. At least people knew what they were dealing with. If a guy asked you out, obviously he was into you. Now there's so much technology involved to meet someone, not to mention all the social media to tread through. So for now I am going to try to keep a wall around my heart. But I also know me, and I know I will probably reach out to him again. I have got absolutely nothing to lose.

Just in case: Mike, if you do read this and have made it this far, please call!

How's a girl supposed to know what to do when there are "inspirational" images and quotes out there? I mean, seriously:

BUT:

WTF????

Where do we draw the line? How should we know which one to heed and which one to avoid?

Queer as Folk

2013-11-07T13:33:00.002-06:00

Yes, it's been forever and a day since I actually even visited this blog. But thanks to a recent email, inspiration hit.

The way things work out in life are funny. Sometimes hilarious, other times odd and extremely painful. What really amazes me is the way relationships can change in an instant. We can go from best buds to mortal enemies within the blink of an eye. Once quid pro quo becomes insufficient one of us is out the door.

I see girls go from loving me to hating me in my job. I work with brides, and while we can form an instant connection when she buys a dress it can turn downright ugly if something goes wrong. Adoring "thank yous" become spiteful words and hysterical dramatics. It's understandable, considering that I'm in the business of "it better be perfect." But it's always a shame to see what was a happy and thrilling moment go to shit. Not that it happens all the time! Otherwise our store would no longer be in business.

Haven't you had a person come into your life and make you feel like you never needed anything again? Whether a lover, a friend or even a great contractor, they can fill a void you didn't know you necessarily needed. And when it's over, it's really over. I had a friend, Mrs. C., and for some reason our relationship evaporated. There was a time when I'm sure we both thought we would be friends forever and ever. I don't know what she thinks of me now and I hate that. But I do know where things went wrong and wonder every single day if its worth fixing for her sake. A big reason we lost touch is because of my behavior, or lack thereof I guess.

This morning I received an email (the one I mentioned at the beginning) from a chick I went to middle school with and it made an impact. For starters, she had read my blog in very recent history which got me to thinking that maybe people out there actually do read this thing. But the more important gist of the email was that something I wrote spoke to her, which is kind of like having a lifelong dream come true.

She came to a school where everyone had known each other since the beginning of time, so she was at a huge disadvantage. You could say she wasn't popular, but back then popular was based on longevity at the school. She had read my blog about bullying and how awful I had felt during that time. She also pointed out that I wasn't so nice to her and while she did not hold a grudge she was happy to know that we were all coming from the same place. The way she saw me was the way I saw others. I didn't beat her up or disfigure her, and I am sure any mean things I did or said were hurtful but also somewhat mild comparatively speaking...girls are MEAN, man! I am glad she wrote me because now I can apologize.

The worst part of being a kid and picking on others is realizing you did it because you felt inferior.

People have said I was "cool" and "popular" in high school, but I remember thinking I was on the outside of it because I really never felt it. Plus, where the hell has that gotten me anyway? I even believed that because I had a fairly active dating life I was doomed to be a dried up old lady without ever finding love. So far it's kinda panned out that way. But who we were then, the relationships we created and who we thought we could be have changed drastically. Be a family tragedy, college or a job, we have changed for a reason. Sometimes not for the better, unfortunately.

It makes me sad to think that I didn't spend every second being nice to everybody in school. It breaks my heart that I can ramble on about my troubles when there were people sitting next to me who had it worse. For such a sensitive kid, I'm not sure I showed the kindness I felt I deserved.

Make no mistake--I don't like people. I am a great judge of character, which is why I can safely say I don't like them! That's a joke, but I do get sick of others pretty quickly because I prefer honesty and genuine respect. I guess I should reread what I've written to understand why people don't call me back and why I spend a lot of nights home alone!!

Kate, if you ever see this, thank you for your email. It was sincere and helped me out in more ways than one.

The Children Better be Our Future!

2013-01-28T12:20:00.000-06:00

I find most ironies in life pretty amusing. In fact, they add a little spice to an otherwise bland existence. For instance, "if I don't get insurance on my new iPhone then something bad will happen. But if I don't get insurance, it's a waste of money because nothing will happen." You can deduct the result of my cheap reasoning: nine months and over $800 later I had the newest iPhone 5.

So, at the first of every month I get excited for my paycheck, and excited if I can pay my rent with a little left to pay my credit or cable bill. Since I am on commission, I never exactly know what amount will be sent my way. Due to the very large and unexpected expense in December I was thrilled to be able to cover my rent at the first of January. It looked like there was going to be some "play" money left, so I thought I would treat myself to a little treat:

Lauren Bush's Ubiquitous "FEED" bag profits go to hungry children in 3rd world countries.

Here is where the aforementioned irony kicks in: after buying the bag I didn't have enough money to FEED myself!!! Still, my thunder thighs could afford to miss a few meals, but fortunately I soon came down with a terrible cold and my endearing mother filled me up with free soup, so I didn't really need to worry about it for a few days.

I sometimes join my folks for dinner, but they are no dummies. They know a large part of it has to do with the fact that I don't have to pay for it. I do enjoy their company, but three nights in a row?

At the ripe age of 31, I am still scrounging for cash as I did at 25. It has definitely lost any feeling of being young and carefree. Plus, I don't know how to cook.

Things are pretty tough when there are not any dog sitting gigs scheduled. It's terribly surprising how much that extra cash helps. So unless I find me a rich guy or win the lottery it looks like I could be doing it for a long, long time.

Oh well. I'm going to see if I have anything in my pantry. Think I saw some oatmeal I can make with water...

Phelps, Lochte and Wieber, oh my!

2012-08-01T17:43:00.002-05:00

It's that time again. The one that only comes every four years and we cannot help but become mesmerized and addicted. The 2012 Olympics in London. Honestly, I tuned in for the Opening Ceremonies because I missed the "incredible" Beijing show. You would think I had learned from the 2012 Winter Olympics it's not a good idea. I fell asleep as one of the "B" countries was parading in.

I've kept my eyes on the games because I wanted to see Michael Phelps break the medal record, for the gymnastics (even though the men's makes me a little uncomfortable) and even some beach volleyball. The trouble is that I get so wound up and excited that I cannot fall asleep! Last night's women's gymnastics and men's relay was heart-pounding and nail-biting. I found myself crying when the USA won a gold in gymnastics. Then I thought: "why am I crying? I didn't do anything. They worked really hard and earned the medal." Seriously, I am asking why I cry.

The logical explanation is that the olympic athletes work their asses off for at least four years. They are so talented that they go to the Big Time. But just as us mortals, they have good days and bad. When it comes to athletes, there's bound to be mistakes, they just have to hope there are 17 straight days without any. And all this talk about Jordyn Wieber my God! She didn't qualify for the finals, but she's the World Champion. She just didn't perform well enough, and others performed better than they could have hoped. I will say that the announcers were very kind by letting her get her composure before talking to her on camera. She did well, and she almost achieved her dream but it just wasn't enough. Though I sound like a heartless bitch, I do understand the disappointment.

There aren't many good things to say about the commentary, but leaving her alone was gracious.

I do have a few observations about gymnasts, though. For example, their ponytails. One, they're in a scrunchie, two, they are so tight I can't believe they don't suffer from migraines, and three, the barrettes!!! Yes, they are great for keeping hair in place, but surely there is something else out there? I think if I were a gymnast (ha!) I would cut all my hair off, kinda like a pixie cut. Gabby Douglas is probably the luckiest when it comes to competition hair.

To me, it's luck of the draw for the day. As I said before, there are good and bad days. While I am no one to compare daily mistakes, I have heard they happen to even the best. Are we watching to see the action? To see who is going to win? Or to see who is going to mess up? I love a perfectly executed performance that launches into a gold medal. I imagine it's a bit of both. Except, during an event the announcer says something like, "[he] is the favorite for this particular race"so we believe them. Obviously there are world championships and all kinds of get togethers for athletes, so I suppose that's where their wisdom comes from.

I am very well aware that I sound like a drag, or that I don't like the Olympics. But I LOVE the Olympics and I am the first to recognize a great team effort or spirit because it's that particular quality that causes the lump in our throats. The trials and tribulations of certain athletes only makes it worse. I am grateful to ancient Greece for bringing the whole world together for a short time. I also loved the Athens games' laurel wreaths! Michael Phelps especially.

This isn't the photo where he looks so handsome, but I think this is sweet--he took off the wreath for the National Anthem! Does it count as a hat???

I have another theory that probably explains my logical attitude: the gymnastics commentators are by far the worst...ever. Not only do they seem super negative, they have deemed themselves professional critics! I realize they are actual professionals. Not sure what it is exactly, but they just bother me. And I have heard they bother other people too.

What's the deal with "Lane 8"? One guy says it's a great lane, another says it's the worst...I honestly have yet to learn the truth! And I am really sick and tired of the Ryan Lochte ad where he says what doesn't get you to London; he swam his way. And please...that grill? He looks like a tool.

Think he spent actual money on that?!? He looks stupid.

For the teeny few who do read my blog, give me your comments!!! This is worldly stuff going on we should be talking about!!

That's the Name they Gave me

2012-06-28T17:21:00.003-05:00

Oftentimes when I am in a situation where my name is to be shouted out, I just use the nickname "Mac." No, it's not an actual nickname of mine, nor is it a very girly moniker. But it's quick, easy to say and easy to understand. Surprisingly, "Shannon" is tricky for most.

When I lived in Spain, my name in the household was "rubia" because my señora could not say "Shannon." It became my name in public, too. At a Starbucks I noticed my amigos were giving themselves pet names as well. Aubin went by "Sarah" and Amanda went by "Maria" because otherwise we didn't know our drink was ready. I preferred the quizzical smirks from the Spanish baristas than my drink turning cold.

Fortunately most of Starbucks language is universal

A while ago I used "Mac" when I was with friends. One got quite a chuckle out of it. And I guess I get that--it's not something normally used or heard. But you know, my granddad went by the name Mac and for some reason it makes me feel close to him (we never met).

Again, an experience at Starbucks: a girl with what looked like an actual dog collar and the deepest voice in the world asked me to spell my name. I can't remember the last time someone requested the correct spelling, especially because this is what she asked: you know, some people spell it "CH." No they don't. I realize she hears a lot of names all day but I can almost guarantee that is not one of them. And even if there were such a person, it's not unreasonable to assume it's spelled "SH," just as Katherine can be spelled multiple ways.

No joke, I think this might have been what she was sporting!

The whole thing kind of caught me off guard...not the spelling of my name, but the woman's deep, deep voice and very thick choker. I had to do a double take because I really thought there was something tethering her. My total was $4.47, and I handed her a five dollar bill. No joke, she opened the register and said, "have a great day, thanks" without so much as looking at me. I wasn't going to get my 53 cents!! I am generally amazing about tipping, but not when it's just taken from me!

It's good karma I guess.

I just think that one of these instances alone could be odd enough, but the fact they both occurred at the same time makes it a better story.

Just a "normal" Tuesday morning...

Dog Days

2012-06-22T13:07:00.000-05:00

There is a reason people love dogs--they provide unconditional love and support. Doesn't matter if you're fat, stupid and ugly because your four-legged friend is at home waiting to greet you with love. If I could, I would have more than one, but I don't have a yard or the kind of money needed with that responsibility. So I continue to dog sit and consider others' dogs as my own in a way.

Look, no one loves a great dog more than me. I've been taking care of a friend's lab, Moe, and he's the greatest. He literally understands everything I say, and doesn't even need to be walked with a leash. He's friendly but tame, a winning combination.

But the other day while I was walking him and his cousin, Gabby, a neighbor recognized us and went (pardon my French) apeshit. She had her hands full of bags but put them all down to "say hello" to Moe. She kept trying to get him to stop sniffing around and let her pet him. Gabby, meanwhile, was kind of laying low and hanging out by my leg, but the woman eyed her and lost her cool again. "Oh, she's beautiful! What a beautiful girl! Who is this?" on and on. Turns out she knew Moe but didn't recognize Gabby. When I explained that Gabby was on a leash because she doesn't really play well with others, the mood changed. We started to walk away, but this woman just kept yapping. She was now behind us commenting on the dog, "she's just so pretty." I thought she was talking about my friend..."no, the dog. she's just beautiful." Look lady, I get it.

When we turned the corner I was sure she was gone. Nope. Turns out we were about a block away from her house. I had to listen to her go on and on about Moe and how he plays in her yard, how beautiful Gabby is, but what a shame she doesn't socialize like Moe. Along the way we ran into some other neighbors walking their dog. Gabby again stayed at my side while Moe greeted everyone enthusiastically. Neighbor Lady says, "That's Gabby, Moe's cousin, but she doesn't do well with other dogs, so be careful." Great, let's put everyone on high alert for absolutely no reason! I tried moving us along not only to prevent anything from happening between Gabby and the strangers, but because I was annoyed beyond belief. Thank God we were at her house at this point.

This is a good example of doggie-lovin' overkill.

Here's my point: let's draw a line between our domesticated friends and ourselves. Clearly Neighbor Lady had some animals of her own, but that was about it for her life. There is a difference in loving your dog and being in love with your dog. These kind of people are very easy to spot. They generally don't have amazing hygiene, a dog is with them at all times, usually wearing some kind of bandana, and they can't help themselves whenever a dog crosses their path. When I see a puppy or a dog and the situation feels alright, I pet it and strike up the shortest conversation ever with its owner. For instance, "What's this guy's name?" And that about does it. The others I speak of are the ones who tell long-winded stories or ask weird questions about the dog's diet.

There are also dog lovers who take their little pooch with them wherever they go, no matter what. I once met a woman who was walking her dog in a stroller with a shade to protect his eyes. Britney Spears took a dog on a red carpet once...that's practically inhumane, what with all the flashing cameras and loud noises. I don't think we've seen that dog again.

The poor guy looks like he's trying to jump off her boob!

Single women tend to carry a bad rap for having cats. What about the women who wear terribly old sneakers and don't brush their hair with five dogs?? At least cats can be hidden in a pinch! I've shoved a little guy into a closet when I lived in a no pet apartment and maintenance came by.

I love dogs. I really and truly love them and want to take most of them home with me. But I can't. So I pet them and move on my way. I don't feel the need to prove I love them by overstaying my welcome around people or their dogs. Nor do I want others gushing over the ones I am with, whether I'm walking one or have one in the car. You'd be surprised how many people try to ask about a dog while driving.

Feast or Famine

2012-06-06T16:00:00.000-05:00

I have been a terrible blog host by not writing for quite some time. But, all the time spent away has only created more adventures and hijinks to write about!

Today marks two full weeks of dog sitting. Lots of dog sitting! More business just kept coming, and I am not one to turn it away, especially considering that I was free all day. Which was no longer the case after the first day of the first job. I literally found a job that is not off the internet and not some scam. An old friend owns a bridal shop and she needed help--immediately. As it turns out, Fortunata, her only consultant, was not so fortunate as her namesake would have you believe. She was hit by a car and seriously injured. When Emma reached out about filling in, I was ecstatic. While I can forgo any type of big wedding of my own, I found such a job to be ironic for me. But it turns out that it's even better than any kind of retail: there is very little inventory, when it's sold it's sold, and there is little to no pressure of making a sale.

My new boss, Emma, is amazing. She is very good at what she does and it's a learning experience like no other. Plus, it's just the two of us! I am not expected to be standing, cleaning or pushing sales the whole time. And the hours are nearly perfect. So imagine my overwhelming good fortune to receive a call about another job offer I looked into a month ago. I am potentially choosing between two different jobs after being unemployed for three months!! The other offer involves animals, which I love.

Speaking of animals, have you any idea what it's like to be locked out of a house in the summer in the middle of the night? I have more than once, but it happened with two houses last night alone. Yes, two houses in one night, no keys. I've been here, there and everywhere with so many different pets that I honestly never thought I would sleep in my own bed again. It was after 10:30 at night, I was in a tank top and pjs when I realized I shut the automatic lock door behind me. No big deal, I thought they were in my car. NOPE. I then spent the next 30 minutes calling everyone on the "contacts" list the parents had given me. Turns out there was a secret passage, so to speak. Once I was back inside, I dumped weeks worth of clothes, makeup, shoes and toiletries on the floor. I went through each single piece, every t-shirt, pants, shorts, only to come up with nothing. Not even the first key I had lost on Sunday to another house, which I was positive was mixed in with my stuff!!!! My concern turned to the dog left alone who I had promised I would be back in a while. Poor little buddy, all alone and waiting for me. He's a dog I have cared for a few years and I am extremely attached. So, while still rifling through all my crap I took an anti-anxiety pill and a couple of beta blockers. Maybe more than just one or two, to be honest. It wasn't long until I felt a little dizzy, but in that good kind of way--like "I'm going to get some good sleep!" kind. In the back of my mind I was really laughing because I had just ordered a lock picking set and book for such situations, only it hasn't come yet.

The other little rascal was ok. I had to wait for the housekeeper to get there before I could get in. I knocked, rang the doorbell and waited. Finally I called another key owner and got that copy. The housekeeper had been there the entire morning. So you can see the feast of business and opportunity, but the potential famine possible.

There was an episode of "Seinfeld" where Jerry always breaks even. One venue cancels, another one calls to book him. Déjà vu---a job was canceled Monday, then I received a call for another during the exact time I was originally booked!

Now, the famine in life has been potent: lack of relationships, lack of a career or job. Sometimes I worry people think I could be gay because I have been single so long. Not there's anything wrong with being gay. But I am not. And it helps for other people to know that so they can think of good people to set me up with! I'll be 31 next month and have yet to pin down an actual lifestyle that resembles any kind of maturity. There's a lot of truth behind the theory that "something else will come up." But why all at once? Obviously I'll take good news or luck whenever possible, but it would be so much healthier for me if it was at something of a steady, consistent pace, you know?

Mistakes are to teach us lessons. Sadly, it's really the only way I learn. Today was spent ordering a number of "remote key finders" to be in my possession ASAP, which will only take up space and money because I won't need them. But it goes back to "feast or famine," not enough or too many.

Growing Up is Hard to Do

2012-05-17T16:04:00.005-05:00

This is what stinks the most about growing up: it's nothing like the movies…at least in my experience, and quite a lot of people I know. There is no cool apartment, at least certainly not within a reasonable price range. Amazing clothes and makeup don't just appear, we have to max out our credit cards instead. Hot guys don't necessarily approach us, or they aren't interested if you're actually yourself. The best friend is rarely that loyal or constant in the real world, and our endings are not always so happy.

Clearly has been my philosophy from the start.

It's fairly reasonable to conclude that I believed all this stuff could actually happen. One thing I have noticed over the years is a common phrase, "this is a tough age." Since I was 12 years old I've been told this piece of wisdom from my elders. Over 18 years I've been told that each is "a tough age or time." Whether it's hard because you're being picked on, hard because you and your friends are growing apart, or you can't find a job despite a great college education. With all this peril I have decided to go with the tried and true phrase, "life is tough and unfair," and we just have to deal with it.

Admittedly, they have been difficult years, but that's possibly just me making things harder than necessary. It's so easy to look around at others and compare lives. He's a lawyer, she's a mom of 4, whatever, and you can only think, "I make a measly $30,000 a year, live in a tiny apartment and constantly struggling to make ends meet." At least, I do that a lot, and while I know comparing is not healthy it feels as if its everywhere laughing in your face. My parents still pitch in when I need help…my mom just bought me some new underwear, my dad gave me his car because it was paid off…but I can't stand needing them to. With this recent job loss they have jumped in and offered to help, certainly considering that I am in limbo financially: while my old account is closing, the new one is unaccessible because I don't yet have a card or checkbook. Plus, I just don't have money. When they offered I absolutely wanted to say yes, but also desperately want to be financially independent. The offer is still open, and fortunately I have some dog sitting jobs lined up. I would love it if I could afford my own place, (preferably enough space) buy nice clothes, go out and socialize and have a little left over. Isn't that what was supposed to happen? For years the whole gimmick has been that "30 is the new 20!"

It can sometimes feel my life is going at this pace, which I guess is appropriate because I am 30.

Looking back on my life even 13 years ago, I can't remember where I thought I would be by the time I was 30. I imagine this was not it. I guess I believed I would be so happy in a job that I loved and it was all going to be easy. The real truth is probably that I really didn't think it through. Turned out I didn't love doing what I had studied in college. My living situation when I graduated was not all that fun--there wasn't a spunky roommate or cool apartment or fun parties. I was out of a job within six months because I didn't like it. Its kind of been downhill ever since you could say. Each apartment eventually became too small, socializing went from bars to weddings and friends seemed to age after having babies and life becomes too different. Am I supposed to start using anti-aging creams? Look into osteoporosis medication?

Another major thing I never thought about was dating. The klutzy girl is endearing or the guy hitting on you is not a Hollywood hunk, he's disgusting and won't take a hint. On TV the characters have new dates each week, and it's awful if they don't. I have always been pretty insecure around guys, and for a long time I was actually rude to any I met. In a movie a guy would keep persisting, not taking no for an answer no matter the faulty characteristic. It's nice to think that you can meet a guy by literally bumping into him somewhere, knocking all your papers all over the floor. Turns out men either help pick the papers up and move along.

Normally I can embrace all these different obstacles and look forward to my own experiences unfolding. But when life keeps on hitting you while you're down it can be much harder. And soon things will get better and then maybe turn into great. I don't think that people can change, but I do think we can grow. We can alter our way of thinking through examples and experiences. It can even be a little fun along the way. The key is to have lots of vodka, a great therapist and the right people around you.

To Mom, With Love

2012-05-14T17:44:00.000-05:00

Unless you've been completely selfish, you know that yesterday was Mother's Day. I was excited as Christmas to give my mom her loot. I got everything weeks beforehand, and I am the worst at keeping gifts away from recipients. My favorite was a personalized iPhone case because she just got an iPhone. I also had some cookies arranged like flowers delivered to her. Sadly, all my dad gets for Father's Day is a couple books, but as long as its wrapped and he can tear the paper he's pretty satisfied.

This post is to show off my own mom. You'd better pay attention because you might be jealous that she's so great. I'm not even biased--everyone loves her and tell me all the time. She's inviting, funny, comforting and loyal to a fault. She's always been a "cool" mom, too. Not only is she beautiful, but she is the example of patience and love. I can say all of this matter-of-factly because she has been through almost everything, and I know my brother, dad and I have at one point given her reason to move to the beach and change her name.

I won't rat out the boys because they can't defend themselves, so I can testify to a few miracles my mom has performed for me when she could have given up:

I was a punk to my parents in high school. I remember actually wanting to piss them off or hurt them. I immediately got into a wreck after turning 16, then proceeded to have car problems for two years. It was an old car, and I was young and didn't really understand things like speed bumps or curbs. When I was 17 I had some kind of transformation and realized she was a great friend who I could confide in, without judging or spreading stories. When I wanted to come back home after my freshman year of college my folks let me move into their garage apartment and helped me fix it up. They also insisted I attend the University of Houston for the year for fear I would never go back if I didn't. She never said no when I then decided I wanted to go to another school. She once made a surprise visit for my birthday while I was in summer school and took me to get some presents, took me to a nice dinner and stayed up drinking wine with me. I flunked a course, Geology, and she didn't yell or scream or bitch, she just reminded me that I was not pursuing a career in rocks and that it gave me an advantage when taking it a second time.

The best advice I've ever gotten from her was after a break up. She said, "if it's meant to be, it'll be." It was as if a wave of relief and comfort came over me, and I stopped crying. Unfortunately it seems that nothing in the relationship department is "meant to be" as of late, but I'm still young. When with friends or out with other parents, she doesn't boast or go on and on about her kids like some people do. I love that.

My mom has literally picked me up and cleaned me off to help send me on my way. In the past four years I have had many jobs, hair colors and other struggles. I even gave up on myself. But she never, ever did. She is my biggest fan, and it's the best feeling in the world having her in my life. I've made countless mistakes and surely caused more trouble than it's been worth. But she continues to compliment me and tell me she is proud of me. She thinks I have a good head on my shoulders, which is a big boost for my ego. I've always said she is biased, but it's nice to hear anyway.

She's always got wine available and an ear for listening. She's got my back and I have hers. She knows that in order for me to learn anything I have to royally mess it up first. She's also such a wonderful person that some of her friends drove to Paris, TX for my granddaddy's funeral. That's a good six+ hour drive.

My mom has had many reasons to give up, but she never has. Not to say she's never had some kind of passive/aggressive response or laid on the "I do EVERYTHING!" ever. While this may sound bad, it's amazing: with this recent job scam I walked into she had very wise advice that was dead on and suggested I take a bit of time to find what I really want. That's support. When I was certain something would work out, she's left me alone to learn. Plus, I imagine my stubbornness has had something to do with it. But she's usually right.

I love my mom more than anything in the world. We understand each other and have a mutual respect. She's got great style and makes the most amazing jewelry. She rolls her eyes with if my dad or brother say something corny or even stupid. She thinks I'm really funny, so I love that, too.

Lately she hasn't been taking very good pictures, so she avoids them and might not love her photo on display. We've been practicing, though.

This could have been a good picture, but my dad kinda missed.

This photo is so old but one of my favorites. This was the beginning of fun family dinners out.

I remember we were having a great time.

SEE!? Glass of wine ready. She knows how to party!

Common Sense for Dummies

2012-05-10T18:01:00.003-05:00

Remember I mentioned getting a job? I did, and today was supposed to be a payday. A big one, in fact. I went ahead and imagined my financial life would provide me with some things I need, such as a place to live, food to eat and liquor. But two days ago I tried to access my "employee account" through the job's website and had no luck. I kept trying all day. I called every single number listed and emailed every single address I could possibly find. Now you know what I've been up to for the past three days.

I was scammed. I fell for the whole thing, hook, line and sinker: the pay was good, it offered benefits and a lax schedule. I clearly did not heed the advice of "if it's too good to be true, then it is." I wanted to believe that sometimes you get a break. I also thought it would be a nice change to see the positive in someone or something, but most of all I wanted to prove everyone wrong. Now I am using my soul as a punching bag. For all I know I could have been paying for children sex slaves or terrorist groups! (The job was paying people, in a nutshell)

Stupidity, naiveté and possibly laziness have finally pushed me over the edge. It's completely my own fault, though I did find some relief from A.J. at Chase that it looked legit. And, the story of my life: he'd never seen anything like it. That provided some comfort. I truly don't believe it's an identity theft kind of thing, but maybe I was doing some kind of illegal activity.

It's funny, you know how parents always say "kids didn't come with a manual!" because now I just want something that tells me what to do step by step. There have been many disappointments in my life, but the one constant is me. It would be great to laugh about this, and maybe I will next week. But right now it's much more devastating because I don't have much money, and now I have to go into a branch myself, withdraw the money myself and have it approved by a senior banker or whoever. I immediately reacted and went to the bank to freeze my account and have already filed complaints with the BBB and Texas Workforce Commission. I'll keep you posted, as I am sure you want to be!!

I got my first job at 16. I worked in college. I had a job right out of college, and I loved my job selling clothes. But in the past three years I have been fired 2.5 times. I say half because I don't completely count this debacle as being fired, just unpaid. It starts to become a bit of a trauma situation, getting fired or quitting before you are actually fired.

The fact that I have so much experience in this department says nothing about me, unfortunately. It's scary, because it feels like it can define us, but I know that I am a good person (despite the possible child slavery ring stuff) and I am smart. But I am also terribly stubborn and despise the idea of an office job and some sort of routine.

Recently my mom told me a story about being a newborn. I was the second child, and with the first she didn't really know what to do so her mother helped out a bit in the beginning. But when I came, my grandmother must have thought things would be that way. She was holding me and I was crying and crying. My mom said, "I can do it," held me and I stopped crying. She said she had never felt something so strongly and I love the story, especially hearing my mom tell it. Only problem is I'm still like that! Yes, my mom could do it again with more ease and confidence, but the rest has been up to me and will continue to be.

This sucks right now, and I am very blue about it. But I will get over it, it's just another adventure in my silly existence. And if you are thinking about taking a job or you're skeptical about something, let me know and I can walk you through it. I've been through just about everything. This definitely takes the cake for now, though!

Maybe I should just bite the bullet and become a toll booth collector!? (wink)

The Family Dinner

2012-05-03T15:58:00.004-05:00

Growing up we were obligated to have dinner as a family at the table. No TV, no books, no phone. This was before DVR and cell phones, so it might sound "worse" today than it actually was, but looking back I think my dad had the right idea. It was really his rule and made no sense to me whatsoever. It definitely did later in life.

In college (at the first one I went to) I took a Health and Humanities class that discussed the family dynamic for a period. In it I learned that, statistically, kids are less likely to become addicted to drugs, lie to their parents, get pregnant, etc., and in turn can develop a strong bond with their folks and/or family. Two years before when my parents would ask about my day during dinner and they turned into actual conversations (just not when I was sparring with my dad). Because of those dinners a line of communication and trust was formed. It was in that class that I realized how powerful a meatloaf can become.

I didn't do drugs, at least not the really hard stuff, but neither did my brother. While that may qualify me as uninteresting, its fine. I really don't need to be "up" in such a way that makes coming down a bummer. My parents are still married, they still talk and even make each other laugh. While things are still far from a white picket fence kind of life, I have a great relationship with my folks and I think quite a lot has to do with the mandatory sit down dinners.

This is an actual picture of my family having dinner.

Of course this is not meant to look down on anyone, nor is it the answer to why people turn out the way they do. I know lots of people that couldn't sit down together but still have a good family dynamic. I just mean that this worked for us.

Ironically, the other day I was flipping through the channels and came across the biggest joke of a show, "The Secret Life of the American Teenager." From what I understand this is a show about teens who get pregnant…how an entire show has been on the air about such a subject is beyond me, and I have even seen Chelsea Handler make a couple comments about it. I will say that I am a fan of Shailene Woodley, though. I loved her in "The Descendants." Anyway, I stayed on the channel because of a conversation between a father and daughter about her not wanting to have dinner with her dad. He was insisting and she kept saying she didn't feel like it. I won't go into detail about what would have happened in my house had I given my own dad that response, but he was assertive and she finally said okay. Just as I was about to continue on the channel journey another scene came up. Two friends were talking about how they didn't want to have dinner with their parents either. But this was the best part: someone had suggested putting the effort into having dinner as a family (I didn't see that part, but I gathered there had been some kind of parent and kid meeting or lecture…I didn't and don't really care). So I had just seen a father insisting to have dinner with his daughter and two teenage kids say they didn't want to and they thought the whole idea was pointless. Clearly the irony was lost on them. The show is called "The Secret Life of the American Teenager" because they are keeping things from their parents. In fact, a big story of the show is a high school girl having a child who is old enough to walk.

I am absolutely positively pro keeping things from parents. I believe there should be a secret life for teenagers. But clearly these kids were not sitting at the table with their parents for dinner! I don't know much about the show, but from the previews and quips I have read. Just as the show was moving on to yet another teen who didn't want to break bread with her family I changed the channel, but for many reasons: I didn't want to watch it, but mostly because unfortunately I am turning into my father and I just didn't want to listen to excuses from ungrateful teenagers.

People often ask me if I babysit because I dog sit. Here is a very short list as to why I do not babysit:

Kids annoy me. Not all kids, but definitely kids I don't know. The irony in this situation is that because of my casual and almost unimpressed behavior, kids are comfortable around me and don't leave me alone. It's not that I don't like them, just super happy I don't have one.
As a kid I never liked hearing things like, "because," and "you'll understand when you're older" and I swore I would never say things like that. But those are the most important phrases in raising a kid, I've learned. You simply can't have one without using those words.
Dogs don't tell on me.

Of course much of this is exaggeration, and I do adore the kids in my life. But at a restaurant or in a store where a kid is yelling or crying I am not so forgiving. I went out for yogurt the other day and it was about 4 PM--the kids were out of school and so hyper and loud and just everywhere that I earned a pounding headache. I don't expect kids to be quiet or not have any fun. I just reserve the right to be annoyed. But an understanding and compassionate annoyed: moms everywhere need a break from their kids and they certainly deserve one. See, I have sympathy! Like I said, I really do adore my friends' children.

I am not predicting the future, but I am probably doing the world a huge favor by not reproducing. Seriously.

Just make sure that your family eats dinner together at least 2-3 times a week, if you can.

Confession: I chose this picture because it looks like boobs!

Immature, maybe, but definitely funny.

P.S. I don't recommend dinner at my parent's house anymore.

This really is a picture of my parents' cat, and she really is on a set dinner table.

I sent it to the Ellen show but doubt she ever showed it.

Catching Up, Throwing Up, It's all Pretty Much the Same...

2012-05-03T14:57:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I've written anything. Part of it is because the format of my blog's host changed and I had a difficult time figuring out how to work it! Turns out I just needed to sign in. Go figure.

Since my last posts I have been quite busy: I got myself a nice black eye, my friend had an adorable baby girl, I've gotten a job, was sick for a bit and went back to therapy. Not that I had given up on the whole thing, but I've been doing it for a while and just needed a break. It's exhausting, not to mention how tired you can become with yourself. Part of the reason I went back was because my family has been driving me bonkers. But the good news is that my therapist said I am probably winning that fight, I'm likely driving them just as nuts, if not more.

The shiner came from a day of much needed and well appreciated margaritas and cosmopolitans. When I need it, I don't mess around! My good friend Alexis and I spent a beautiful Saturday afternoon drinking, and late into the evening I fell on the patio…right onto my forehead and eye. Fortunately I didn't feel a thing and have always wanted a nice black eye. Plus, it was freaking hilarious! Later in the evening when I was home and eating a nice midnight Whataburger I noticed my right eye was burning and checked it out in the mirror. There are a couple people in my life who know how badly I've wanted black and blue makeup, one being my ex. So I snapped a crooked picture with my phone and sent it in a text message to those two peeps. You know, just what someone else wants to see at 2:30 AM. Sadly I woke up quite sick and miserable. I looked through my phone and realized I had NOT sent the scraped eye text to the right person…I accidentally sent it to a guy I dog sit for. While he is also a friend, we don't exactly have a common habit of texting each other. Once again, hilarious. He thought it was hysterical and had a few tips. This is what it looked like:

Alexis got a BIG kick out of this. Turns out she had a bump on her head as well.

Of course I spent the entire day in bed nursing my hangover and laughing at my silly little life. My sweet mom offered to bring me lunch a couple days later and saw her daughter sprawled out on the couch with greasy hair and this:

Yep. It got a lot worse!

Since she offered to buy I ordered a flatiron steak with fries and spinach & artichoke dip--not much of a usual Tuesday afternoon lunch. She got something of a kick out of it, especially with the all natural eyeshadow. It went away far too quickly, but ended up hurting quite a bit.

As I said, my friend had her baby--I was so excited that when I went to see her and meet her baby girl I changed about 12 times because I wasn't sure what to wear!

But that's pretty much it. I'm sure other stuff has happened but even more certain that it's not interesting enough to write about. Although, I have had quite a few observations, so check for those in the coming posts.

OH! Check out this precious 2-week old kitty I got to see. She is precious and tiny and don't worry, I would never take her because I am good in the cat department.

Her name is Happy. What a great name to throw out there in the universe, huh?

Check out how cute her paws are, holding onto the bottle.

Go to Hell, Bullies!

2012-04-19T15:31:00.000-05:00

There are a few causes very important to me, one is bullying. Because I was bullied.

Today's bullying is different from when I was younger because of all the technology available. I was not threatened or physically beaten, but people said mean things and picked on me because I was overweight and sensitive, making for an easy target. Part of me now worries that using the term "bullied" isn't right in my case, but it feels like it. If Facebook had been around when I was 12 or 13 I might not have made it to high school.

Everything made me cry because I was super sensitive. Looking back I can't help to think I was a huge killjoy. But who isn't insecure then? I remember in 6th grade a boy, John, used to call me fat and ugly all the time. He even told me that other boys talked about me and how gross I was all the time. In specific detail. I can still remember hearing him on the phone and just crying. I quickly drew the attention of my mom, then dad and finally my brother. They all gathered around me, trying to console me. I begged them not to make me go to school the next day, my throat was dry and itchy and my head hurt from it all. But they made me go and I was terrified the whole day that John or other boys were going to give me a hard time. I don't think I said a word the entire day. And it wasn't just him, a lot of boys gave me a hard time.

When I was in 8th grade the same guy had his friends call me and say ugly things. Since these friends went to a different school I didn't know who they were. And I can remember one night so vividly that I'd like to be hypnotized into forgetting.

It was Christmas break and my family had dinner at the original Ninfa's on Navigation. Shaw was about to turn 16, so we were talking about cars. I told them I wanted a convertible VW Cabriolet. After dinner my brother and I rented "Bad Boys" (this was 1995) and watched it downstairs. We had our own phone line and I thought I heard it ring during the movie but didn't care about answering it. It was after midnight by the time we finished the movie. I saw the red light flashing on the answering machine, played it and immediately broke down. "You're a fat, ugly cow. No one likes you, guys think you're so gross…" etc. I can't remember the entire message because my brother came in and demanded to know who had left it.

He started going through the caller ID and was reading names out loud while I just sat there, heartbroken. I felt fat, ugly, embarrassed and alone. I thought, "Who else agrees with him? Who else knows about this, and why did they let it happen?" When Shaw found a name of another guy in my class he called the number. It was a kid named Trevor, and I swear he wet his pants when he heard my brother's voice. He wanted to know who had left the message and if Trevor knew the severity of what had happened. Shaw then called the number Trevor gave him, but he never spoke to the person who left the message or John. I really wanted to die at that point. Had it not been for Shaw stepping in I don't know what would have happened.

If an answering machine message can cause such damage to someone, I'd hate to think of the damage texts, Facebook and camera phones can do. Forgive me, but the people out there who take nudey pictures are asking for it. That's not even something I would do now at 30. Overweight girls are photographed in the locker room, boys are filmed kissing other boys and kids who look a little different are threatened and beaten on their school bus.

My mom used to tell me that there was something wrong with them, not me, to be treating me in such a way but I found it so hard to believe. Are kids being told that same thing? Because if someone was beating me up I'm not sure those words would go very far. If kids and teenagers are anything like I was, they are hurt because they know they didn't do anything to provoke it. They don't understand because they are good kids and just want to be friends. It can crush your soul. There was a lot I didn't try out for or participate in because I didn't want any more ammunition, and because I truly felt like a loser that no one liked. There is no excuse for it--children need to thrive in an inviting atmosphere. For my pregnant friends I hope to see a better environment for their children.

I wish I could say that I grew into an amazing person, but I'm not sure it's the case. I was never a bully, but I'm not sure I was as nice as I could be to everybody. Remembering these things, looking back on that time makes me cry. It was so hard, I was so miserable and I just wanted to fit in. I didn't have my first kiss until I was 15, and it wasn't from a boy in my class.

In a twist of fate, I saw this John character years later at a wedding. He couldn't have been nicer or more interested in my life. But I could barely look him in the eyes. After some cocktails I asked him about middle school (I couldn't help myself!), and he said he didn't remember anything. So I tried being more specific and he still didn't recall any of it. I wish I could say I looked amazing and had a really hot date, but I didn't, and he's since married and become very successful. Which reminds me: Dammit, when is my friggin' ship coming in?!?!?!

Think Like a Man? Please Don't.

2012-04-19T14:22:00.001-05:00

With all due respect, the men in my life are stupid. They are complete idiots. It's not something they can control, either, which makes it good and bad--good because they don't mean to harm, bad because they don't know they are being hurtful.

I am a big reader and I love it. But a few months ago my dad said something that was so hurtful it ruined my entire weekend. Yes, he knows I have always been an avid reader, but when he "apologized" he tried to explain why he said it: he thought that I had read some book--The Indian Chief, the Red Indian, I honestly can't remember. He was quoting a line from the book in response to something I had said. That's a gamble no man should take, assuming I'd read some book I'd never heard of.

An apology from a man in my family is like no other experience, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone! "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY, OKAY?" They kinda yell it with a very frustrated tone. Here's the best part: they are over it in .2 seconds. I'm not kidding, everything is just back to normal. That's not really how a woman works.

Like I said, the worst part is that its over for them in a matter of milliseconds. You know when you were young and your mom would be angry with you, but then the phone would ring and she'd answer it all cheerful? Its similar. I've seen my dad make one of his aggressive apologies to my mom, and once she said "it's okay," he segued into "So, what do you want to do for dinner? Want a glass of wine?" Uh, OF COURSE she wants a glass of wine! And just like that, POOF, all is well again. For him.

So, from this...

…to THIS

While I know the guys will be less than ecstatic I am writing about this, my dad will be pleased to be portrayed as Henry Fonda.

Of course this is not every single situation. There have been many sincere and heartfelt apologies along the way, so maybe they make up for the crappy ones…I don't know. I'm a sensitive gal and always have been. I would cry at the drop of a hat from about 9 years old to today. I've said before that it's a good thing my dad has a son--I just think he would have some difficulty with two daughters and a wife. He's not a bad guy at all, he just wants it to be over. My brother is the same way, and I have unfortunately discovered I have some of the characteristics. They are frustrated because something is wrong and they want it to be OK. I believe part of them feels a little embarrassed or ashamed that they've done something "wrong." If that's true or not I don't care--it's helped me through the years!

It took about 20 years of observations and some therapy to realize how they handle things. I learned that not only are we all so very different, but they are 99% rational and logical, while I've been 99.9% emotional. If either of them are getting upset over something that I have no control over I just say, "Hey, check your tone with me. I have nothing to do with this." Then we all laugh and eat cotton candy.

NOT.
Because it doesn't always work. Who the hell wants to be told they're acting stupid???

What I find humorous (because really there is no other way of looking at it is all the time and energy I put into therapy and learning to adapt to people and situations because they will never change. I do all the work! But it's worth it and I love my family more than anything. The best thing about family is this: you can bitch about them publicly (such as in a blog) and they have to forgive you.

The sweet and tender moments I have with both my brother and dad outnumber the frustrating and crummy apologies. When I had to leave camp for a few days and then got stuck in Dallas my brother drove me back, only to turn back around and return to Dallas. My dad taught me to read with the Sunday comics in the paper, and to this day he still saves them for me. They have both indulged me in a few summer blockbuster movies. That's what I'll really remember and the memories I keep in my heart.

Americannabis

2012-04-19T12:55:00.000-05:00

A friend suggested that I write about a few things, one of which I didn't think I'd ever write about: politics. I am the very first to admit I have no expertise on the subject, but I am religious about voting, so I reserve the right to say a few things. This post is not about my political affiliation, to slam anyone or push my beliefs on readers.

This has been my thought since 2004, when I read an article in "Rolling Stone" with one of the Phish members. I wish I could remember which one. He was going on and on about the president and what a crappy job he was doing and why he disliked him so much. As I read I kept getting frustrated with him and everything he was rambling about. It's because of our president that he can speak out freely without judgement or punishment. It's because of our president he could be published despite what he was saying. No, it was not George W. Bush himself that allows such freedom, but he's yet another guy running the country with liberty and justice for all. The First Amendment is about as important and sacred as the Bible or Torah, depending on your religion (despite America's 44th spot in the world's freedom of the press).

So I marinated in those thoughts for a while and came to yet another conclusion: you do it. People go on and on and on about how this guy sucks or this guy is stupid or that one is corrupt…so I say shut up and run for office yourself. You try running a free nation and doing a perfect job. I believe that when running for a public office its easy to make promises with good intentions, but once in office it becomes a different situation. I believe that Obama wanted to do quite a bit with his term and has been jammed up with unforeseen issues. But, like I said, I am not an expert. My dad says that I am a bleeding heart when it comes to politics. I find it so hard to understand--why are there so many homeless Americans, why can't everyone have equal health care and why are there still troops in Afghanistan?

I recently read a book that described America in a way we seem to ignore. Apparently we are the best country in the world, but we have a $10.5 trillion public debt, hot-dog crust pizza, crumbling education system and hungry children. How did America get into a situation where we owe China a trillion dollars? What's happened to this great nation? I imagine that if I threw a rock in a crowd, the person I hit couldn't name all the branches of government, or who Paul Revere was. But I'll bet they know what happened on "Jersey Shore" last night. American history is amazing--it was one of my favorite classes. The stories are great and there is a lot to be really proud of!

For the record, this is Paul Revere...

…and this is Mike "the Situation."

I love my country, and I have faith in the people who run it. Although, it's been reported that America could save up to $13 trillion with the legalization of marijuana. Half that is spent enforcing the law against it. A taxation on pot could bring in $7 trillion. That seems like an awfully great trade, and people are doing it anyway! Plus, what a happier country this could be…lots could benefit from toking on some Mary Jane. Myself included. I try not to buy into the whole "drinking is worse" theory because I have seen some people have a crazier reaction to being high versus being drunk. Obviously drinking and driving is stupid, and in that respect being high could be a better alternative. People who are stoned drive really slow.

One last time, just to hammer home the point: these are my own personal views and they are pretty limited, as you can see. I am proud of my country and blessed to live somewhere I don't have to cover my entire face and body. But right now we are in a shit storm.

April is Autism Awareness Month!!!

2012-04-18T17:29:00.002-05:00

Support Autism Speaks by buying this bracelet from Stella and Dot. I have it and love it! Be sure to list "Megan Kilis" as your rep when you check out.

Click here:

Autism Speaks Bracelet

Music to my Eyes

2012-04-18T17:21:00.002-05:00

Music truly is the spice of life. People's preferences open a window for us to see what kind of person they are. I've always been a fan of music--I started listening to the radio while getting ready for school at the age of 7. Actually, looking back it started much earlier. My mom used to listen to Oldies, in other words, her generation's music, when I was little. I remember her singing along with the music and liking a lot of it myself. A few years later I discovered my parents had a record player and about 1,000 records. Considering I was about nine or ten, I didn't know a lot of the artists. I did know Aretha Franklin, The Beatles and Sonny and Cher. Sometimes I would play the Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album and just listen to the crackles and scratches in the record--I loved it. There is nothing better than an old-school record sound on a really great song.

Even at a young age I knew how good this album was.

It's not a huge leap that I found a musician and fell madly in love. He was in a great band that was pretty popular, and so in turn musicians became my friends. It's a whole different kind of camping trip when someone can pull out the guitar and play anything you want to hear. The future Mrs. Grider and I clicked instantly, which was ideal since her boyfriend was in the band as well. I've never heard a falsetto quite like his. He's also singlehandedly the hardest working guy I've ever met.

Check him out on Facebook: Josh Grider, buy his music on iTunes and the next time he's playing in town, come along.

Mrs. Grider is very dear to me and still a close friend. She's always gotten a huge kick out of my appreciation and knowledge of music, despite not being musically gifted. She's a true diva; she majored in Opera, and hearing her sing to her son is moving. From all these people and experiences I discovered the best feeling in the world is when you can show a musician a song or album they haven't heard. You kind of become a rock star in a rock star's world.

Anyway, the point I am trying to make is that tunes make a gigantic difference to even the most mundane things. Taking a shower is so much more fun when LMFAO is playing. Getting ready to go out, putting on makeup is 10 times better with my gal Katy Perry.

It's as if she's saying, "I got your back, girl. You get out there and show 'em how great you are!"

The other day I saw yet another preview for "The Lucky One," but this time the song for the clip was "Shake it Out" by Florence + the Machine. I realized that the music had such an impact on the trailer. In itself it's a great song, but flanked with two hot people getting it on is almost a religious experience. I got to thinking and realized that with the right shots and a great song any movie can look amazing in the preview, "What Happens in Vegas,*" anyone?…better yet, any Kate Hudson, Cameron Diaz or Ashton Kutcher movie.

Here's the perfect example of a great trailer: "Dark Shadows," a movie based around a resurrected vampire in the 70s has the most intriguing and seductive sell. While I already love all the actors in it, I have replayed and replayed the trailer. The use of "Superfly," "Bang a Gong" and "My Everything" add just the right touches. The songs are generally appropriate to the time period and portray humor for a movie with potential to be dark and even scary. Who knows if the movie is any good, but the preview definitely makes me want to check it out.

Dark Shadows Preview. Click to see why I'm so drawn to it!

When "The Social Network" trailer hit theaters in 2010 the song used was "Creep" by Radiohead. Yet the version in the preview sounded beautiful and a bit like a children's choir. It was the perfect juxtaposition for the film--innocent and harmonized vocals singing about an actual creep. Plus, the whole story of Facebook is based around a guy who was a jerk and screwed his friends. While this isn't a trailer, anyone who has seen "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" can find the awesomeness in the use of an Enya song during a pivotal scene. The suspense and violence pitted against new age music is perfection. The story behind the use of "Orinoco Flow" was that while filming the scene, the director couldn't figure out what music to use, and when Daniel Craig shuffled his iPod that was the song that played, he suggested it and the director loved it.

Don't even get me started on "Across the Universe." The movie is based around Beatles songs and their true life experiences, and I have been such a fan of theirs for so long that I can explain the back story of each scene. It might be sick if it wasn't so good, and the soundtrack is amazing.

*See also: "Pearl Harbor," "Change Up" and "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days"

Bitcher Perfect

2012-04-13T15:15:00.000-05:00

Those who know me well know that I have a strong aversion to Facebook. I think the idea is great: it's a good way to find old friends, promote things or people (like my blog!) and helpful when looking for contact information. But I never check it. The minute the Facebook news feed comes up on my screen I become irritable. Maybe it's a bit of my Social Anxiety Disorder kicking in, but I just don't like it. There are pictures, stories and comments everywhere, and for lack of a better description, it makes me wonder what I've been missing out on.

Obviously the world is free to go about its business without involving me in everything, but I've learned to play it a bit smarter. I delete people that I never see or speak with unless I need their information, such as email address, or even email through Facebook. I know I am not the only person who feels this way, either. I admit that it's very hard to pick and choose what information you care about, such as people's children or vacations. For example, I don't need to see 46 pictures of your kid from one event or album, like sitting in the wildflowers. Its picture after picture of the same thing. Mix it up! Or post less, whatever. Same with vacations, but the difference is that I'm über jealous!

Not to be misunderstood, I love seeing my friend's kids here and there, especially if they're out of town. My friend Kaitlin has it figured out--she'll post a few from different trips or occasions. But what confuses me the very most is this: why are people posting about their kids when the account is in their name? Is it because the kid is their life? Let's use status updates for our own selves. I sent you the friend request, not little Amy or Pete.

This is a good example of an appropriate post.

This is not. It's stupid.

While I stay away from the world's #1 media site, I love Instagram and Twitter. Quick, funny bits and nothing else. The saddest thing is that I actually prefer to follow celebrities and get a peek into their private lives! So I guess I'm up a creek without a paddle now that Facebook purchased Instagram for 1 billion dollars. Jeez.

The Instagram app

Having said that, the other day turned into a tornado of anxiety for me. While tracking down my favorite Hollywood babe, Emma Stone, I saw a friend's picture and clicked on it. Somehow I ended up on a friend of a friend (maybe even once more over). We all do this: find ourselves going through someone's page or pictures that we have never met. It's easy to get caught up in the lives of those possibly more interesting than us. But this was a train wreck and I couldn't not look. Here was a girl, not much younger than me and very attractive. From her pictures it was clear she has quite a bit of money and lives a pretty luxe life. From what I could tell she had been to balls and galas and has some kind of business. There were also obnoxious pictures, such as trying on dresses and asking followers which one should she buy (YSL or Gucci). Spare me.

I felt gross and a bit like a loser, to be honest. All those questions that we ask ourselves popped into my head. "Will I ever find a guy,?" "Am I happy? Is she happy?" and the irrepressible "What am I doing with my life?" There are those people out there, the Princess Kates of the world. Beautiful, gorgeous hair, clear skin, hot body and is a friggin' princess. Where is the flaw? Everyone is always told that nobody's perfect, everyone struggles with something. But in these situations, what is it? Can she not have an orgasm? Does she have halitosis? Stupid? If she is, so what! These girls also make it look easy to have.

My reaction lasted a day or two, feeling mostly unsophisticated and shlubby. I couldn't stop thinking about these women and then my life. I wrote a blog giving advice to shop at the Gap while Instagram Girl is up close and personal at fashion shows. Social events versus picking up (a lot of) dog poop. But I finally accepted it. I'm stuck with myself. Knowing me, I'd have no clue what to do with "it all," or I'd lose it, so I guess its better I not have had it in the first place. I've said before that I have no regrets and I don't, and even when looking at such perfect people I wouldn't change a single move I made. Without getting too intense or serious, I've had troubles…hell, I have so much baggage I answer to "Samsonite!" And this is just how it is.

In the meantime, though, I am going to spend lots of time with the Face in Hole application:

Take THAT Princess Kate and Instagram Chick!!!

Two's Company

2012-04-10T14:35:00.000-05:00

Three years ago this summer I moved into my brother's house and became his roommate. It is safe to say that he was desperate for the rent income. With absolutely zero help from my family I moved out of my spacious and private condo. At the beginning it was almost fun because he was newly single and we sometimes had dinner together. Plus, I absolutely love moving--not the physical part or all the packing, but the excitement of a new place. All the "fun" lasted about a week.

Fortunately there is a very large storage area in his house, so my furniture, dishes and about everything I own went in there easily. I just hadn't realized that all my things were going to be put away. I do have a couch in the office downstairs, but that's about it. The rest is in my room, kind of like a dorm. I even have a tiny fridge.

It would be a lie to say I wasn't hoping to strengthen a relationship with my big brother or become somewhat closer. We have always been polar opposites, but I'd lived with him for 14 years a long time ago, and this time I didn't have to share a bathroom.

Let me paint a better picture of polar opposites: he is 6'3", I am 5'4". He is driven, focused and very ambitious whereas I tend to go with the flow and don't have a strong work ethic. He is clean and tidy and a bit Type A. I am not like that--I'm not a slob, but I certainly don't make my bed every morning. I love sweets and he is more of a foodie. I am sensitive, compassionate and even empathetic, but he is not. I really don't think he is cold or completely insensitive, but he is not as open and loving as me. Shaw plays his cards very close to his chest and tries to keep as much of his life private, even from my parents and me. I, however, have a blog.

At first I had a really hard time living with him because I wanted us to be besties, hang out and talk more. Plus, he has a seriously bad ass movie pass of which I don't reap the benefits of nearly enough. But instead of such a daydream coming true I found myself coping with his behavior, habits and oftentimes things he said. I came across a quote somewhere that was the best advice I have ever received: "deal with men as they are, not how you want them to be." Not only did this apply to my brother, it applied to men everywhere! What woman couldn't benefit from this profound thought?! Things became a bit easier, or at least not so painful as before. It was a form of radical acceptance--he is who he is and I cannot make him change. A leopard cannot change its spots. No, I don't have the ideal relationship with my brother but I think I understand him somewhat better because I have stopped trying to force one. At least more often than not.

One thing that makes me nuts is his house. There is so much I would love to do with the place, but neither of us can afford it, and I am around the place much more than he so it bothers me more. The "courtyard" between the gate and front door is an eyesore. There is lots of empty wall space. Don't even get me started on my bathroom wallpaper. It was while watching "Interior Therapy with Jeff Lewis" that I became inspired of what could be! Jeff and his assistant Jenni go into people's homes and fix issues that come between them personally. As he says, "When there are problems with the space people live in, it can mean trouble with the relationship." Watching the show I immediately became desperate to get his attention myself. I have never heard of Mr. Lewis going anywhere outside of L.A. or California, but there is a LOT he could do here. Especially if they are footing the bill! I admit, Jeff Lewis can seem a bit intimidating and painfully honest, but I would welcome him with open arms. If the opportunity arises to see an episode where he helps this guy Alex and his tolerant girlfriend Tiffany, tune in. They were not married and lived in a home he inherited from his Aunt Guita. The guy is a total wuss--he starts crying at the sight of old newspapers Guita had saved and then calls his mommy for help. He also disregarded and ignored everything Tiffany said she liked for the home. But by the end he was a completely different guy. And he loved what Jeff had done.

This is Aunt Guita's original den.

This is Jeff's magical touch.

I've been a fan of Jeff Lewis' since he first showed up on Bravo four years ago. I would die to hear what he would say and do with this (meaning mine) current living situation. As much fun it could be to work on my relationship with my brother, how awesome to have spaces done by him? The only area I would expect miracles is in the design.

I love my big brother..it's the law. I'm teasing, but I really do love and admire him. Also, I know I would not have done well with a sister, and my dad is more of a boy's dad. Two girls would have been tricky.

Lame Gamer

2012-04-09T14:18:00.000-05:00

I had no idea it would be so tricky to come up with ideas for posts. Actually, I have tons of stories and thoughts, but writing about them or retelling them involve more focus and patience than I usually have or like. Lately something has been on my mind, and when I really stopped to think about it I realized it was pretty funny and a little stupid. Not to mention highly embarrassing.

There is a deep love in my heart for really geeky computer games. For years I have been playing hidden object games, jigsaw puzzles and lots of word games. Sadly, with the gift of an iPad for Christmas, these games are much more accessible. Movie quizzes, Wheel of Fortune and Family Feud are generally helpful for falling asleep, and have shown me I know a lot more than I could have guessed.

About a month ago I found a free game on iTunes called "My Vampire Boyfriend." I instantly knew it was stupid and silly, but I was very, very bored as I had already gone through a majority of free hidden object games. So, the purpose of the "game" is to earn money in a career, get "successful" boyfriends and maintain an entourage. There are three levels, each one a different city with a better job, better shopping and more entourage members. They are all avatars that you can choose clothes for, but that's about the extent. My character, I guess to be called "me," works and goes to the club to swap out friends and boyfriends for more points. At the beginning I wasn't too caught up in the logistics or idea of the game and really focused on the clothes and getting a cute vampire boyfriend. It's all actually pretty hilarious if it wasn't so stupid.

This is a shot of the game, though my avatar would never wear that ugly ass outfit.

I recently came across a selection of boyfriends of all different races. I chose the white guy, even though he was worth less points and immediately became fearful of being a racist. It started to eat away at me, "why didn't I choose the black guy? The Asian guy?" So, since then I have been purposely going for the non-white friends and boyfriends out of fear of having some unconscious race issue.

It took me a while, but then I figured out what the deal really is: beautiful people. So, it turns out that I am not a bigot, but very vain. In that shot of the game, I would never pick the blond guy because I do not like his hair. The guy on the far right not only has gray hair, but he's also wearing a necklace that I would want in real life--that can't happen. I love the middle guy's jacket and tie, so I would go for him. It's impossible to describe what relief I felt in discovering I am not a closeted prejudiced person. Whew.

Yesterday was Easter, and I spent the day with family while they talked about golf. And watched golf. And talked more golf. I don't know jack about golf, nor do I really care. I do know that it's most likely the secret to my parent's successful marriage, though. While everyone was watching the swings, putts and shots I was checking out the clothes. Phil Mickelson had on all beige, and my dad and uncle made a comment about not liking it that much. I told them that they were wrong--tone on tone is huge this spring. Bubba Watson (the ultimate winner of the tournament) was wearing all white and he looked crisp. Even better, when he won the legendary green jacket, it didn't clash horribly. But the best was probably Ian Poulter. I have no clue where he landed on the scoreboard but he was one helluva well-dressed golfer.

Poulter is the golfer in the top right.

I chose this photo because these fans seem to be enjoying the day. I honestly cannot think of anything more miserable: standing quietly in the sun watching golf among hundreds of other people.

It's safe to say that Ian Poulter's likeness in "My Vampire Boyfriend" is one I would choose.

Making Lemonade

2012-04-05T05:11:00.002-05:00

This is likely to be the most optimistic post I'll ever write. But it's a sunny-side-of-things simply because looking at it any other way is detrimental. I pick lemons. Not the fruit, but the shoddy, one in thousands of a product that either doesn't work or already broken. Everybody (hopefully) has come across this issue at least once in their lives.

Lemons are a beautiful and delicious fruit. People say, "this is delicious, what's in it?!" and the response is likely to be "lemon." Ironic.

For example, my very first cell phone came with a charger that didn't work unless it was positioned in a certain and very unnatural way. Being that I was a freshman in college with no money or resources to find another, I waited the few months until I went home for Thanksgiving. I've been through seven iPods in eight years. When the iPod touch came out, I went and got it--only to find that the songs would skip to the next within a few seconds of starting, then the entire touchscreen would stop working until it was rebooted. When I took it back to the store no one could believe it and all claimed they had never seen anything like it. I'm not joking: they started calling coworkers over to look at it while I'm standing there, waiting for my shiny new working iPod.

When I bought a car, the CD player didn't work. It worked, but when I hit the "skip" button it would keep going, waaaay past the number of songs---up to the 50s, I believe, then on to the next disc.

I went to buy a new DVD player and "The Notebook," and when I got home the whole thing just froze--the screen, the buttons, nothing worked. So I went right back and exchanged it. Got home, the DVD still just froze, but this time the buttons worked. I had literally picked a lemon DVD player and DVD at the same time. So I got up and went back to Target. Again.

There are really countless other stories, a broken glass top for a desk from Ikea, headphones that just didn't work…I'm a magnet for the subpar choices in material objects.

So of course I look at these with a sense of humor and just chalk it up to being a hot mess. What other option is there? It's funny, even though it's also the biggest pain in the ass. So imagine how unsurprised I was two weeks ago when my debit/credit card stopped working, only to find that someone had tried to purchase things with it. It's the 4th time in three years. In fact, this past November someone hacked into my account and bought over $1,000 of stuff at some electronics store in Florida. I immediately called the bank and, true to form, got the lemon representative. She told me to call the stores where items had been purchased and ask them to void or cancel the transaction. I asked her if that would really work and she said yes. So when I called the 1-800 number displayed in my bank account, and the guy on the other end might have thought I was new in town or on drugs. What could he do?? I realized how stupid I sounded and immediately called the bank back. The nice, new person I spoke with couldn't believe the advice I had been given, and though he didn't say so, I imagine he was surprised I even tried it.

So, I am now on my 4th card. And what do you know--they sent me two new cards. I don't know if they did this to be safe or if there was yet another mistake, but I activated one and decided to save the other for the next time these shenanigans happen.

This perpetual dark cloud over me has only taught me to laugh at these things. You can't possibly imagine how long it takes me to select a product on the shelf. I reach for the deodorant, but then decide to go with the one further back in the row, but then back to the first and so on, like a tennis match or something.

It's happened with people, too. When I went to the University of Houston for a year, I was overwhelmed with the number of students and the size of the campus. I missed more than half the first week of classes trying to find the damn buildings. So by that first Thursday I parked at a meter because I was doubtful of finding my political science class, plus it was the only class I had Tuesdays and Thursdays.

The rest of this is 100% true: as I was walking back to my car, overly pleased with myself for finding the class and catching the last 30 minutes, a car pulled up beside me. Parking at UH is a nightmare. Sometimes it took longer to trek from the car to class than the classes themselves, and people were always everywhere. Two girls pull up next to me and ask if they can give me a ride to my car (I knew it was to get my space, but I didn't care). I cheerfully said yes and got into the back seat with thoughts racing through my head, "friends! I'm making friends! Maybe this whole thing isn't such a nightmare and everything will be great. These girls will be my friends and I won't have to walk around lost and alone anymore. Who knew that I would meet people so quickly, if they kidnap and scalp me, who cares?" etc. I might have even foreseen us all sharing an apartment…I was excited.
They turned around and asked me where I was parked. When I told them the general direction, overly eager I'm sure, they got kind of quiet and talked amongst themselves. The driver turned back around and asked, "Wait, are you at a meter?" I told her yes. Her response? "We're going to be here longer than two hours today, so…." she trailed off. I responded with some sort of apology for the confusion while waiting for her to drive me to my car. She just looked at me, so I said, "Oh, you want me to get out?" and she nodded. I mean, for that embarrassment she could have at least driven me to my car!!! They drove about 10 feet before stopping someone else and letting them in. Needless to say, I quickly learned parking etiquette and never got into another car again.

I mean, a rocket scientist or engineer would have trouble with this!

The even more unfortunate side to this story is that while I was at U of H I parked at lots of meters. My class schedule worked out nicely with the timing and they were the best spots. Though there were a few times that I stayed past the meter's time, or a couple times I didn't have change, I thought nothing of it. Just some campus parking tickets. I figured the tickets would go onto my tuition bill and my folks could pay the fines. Nope. Two and a half years later I was in Spain studying abroad when I got a few emails from my family. The first was from my dad to my mom and brother and me in his terse, all uncapitalized letters without any punctuation describing the scene when he left the courthouse that morning with a colleague. He had been driving my car and when they approached it he noticed a gigantic yellow boot on it. The proceeding emails were from my brother and mom, both telling me I was lucky as Hell to be in another country, even another American city was too close for his wrath. I didn't know that campus parking tickets were also City of Houston parking tickets. If the story is brought up today, even eight years later, he gets thin lips and kinda grunts.
Whoopsie.

Pills, Pills, Pills

2012-03-29T18:03:00.001-05:00

I was raised a pill popper. My mom was no Judy Garland or Edie Falco from "Nurse Jackie." She distributed the safe, legal stuff, like Benadryl and Advil. Today, if you were to approach my dad, brother or mom, I guarantee they have a Pepto Bismol on them. Just as the father in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" believed in Windex as a cure-all, we believe in Pepto. It rocks.

I am all for Eastern medicine and alternative therapies. I believe that it's worth a try and there are methods that can and have worked. However, I have seen the benefits of western medicine and even lived through them myself. I admit, I asked my dad last week if he had any extra pain killers--because they are super awesome. I've even overcome a strong addiction to Ambien. But I still believe in drugs, the best of the West.

Pretty.

Think about a bad headache and how much better you felt after a couple Advil. Or when you are sick with a terrible cold and cannot sleep, NyQuil probably solved the problem. If people want to pour warm saltwater through their nose with a netty pot, more power to them. I just prefer to take an Advil Cold & Sinus or a Benadryl. One of my best friends swears by netty pots (but she also drinks hot water and doesn't like ice, so I don't know how much credibility she has, at least in my book).

I mentioned my mom earlier because she cracks me up. If I so much as mention I have some sinus pain her reaction is always, "did you take an Advil Cold & Sinus?" If we are shopping after lunch and I have a headache, "Did you take an Excedrin?" She has a little pill box in her purse that has never failed me. But my favorite of her "cures" is her love affair with Zicam.

They don't fit in her tortoise shell pill box, but she probably has one in her bag.

Even if she hasn't seen you in years, but you sound like you are coming down with a cold she'll tell you to stick one of those Zicam sticks up your nose. A while ago my dad had a cold and he sounded really miserable. But, it was his fault because he didn't heed her advice to "use that Zicam." Hearing her say it is so endearing and something I love about her, because she just wants to help, and it's one of those things I'll always remember her harping. And, true to form of any mother, I hear it in my head and know she's right--if you catch it early, you can generally avoid a severe cold.

Some people believe that taking pills causes more problems because it weakens the immune system, causes damage to organs, whatever. They may be right, who knows? I firmly believe in medicinal marijuana. If I or anyone I loved had (God forbid) cancer, all options are open. For example, Farrah Fawcett tried alternative cures after her cancer diagnosis was terminal. But Steve Jobs knew he was sick and tried a special diet instead of an oncologist.

In all seriousness, I grew up with a pesky kidney problem and medicine saved my life. Granted, it was Prednisone. I also saw my brother struggle in school, then Ritalin changed everything for him, and in the best way possible. Consequently, I now think ADD has been over diagnosed quite a bit because I watched the real thing at home. No disrespect, but if all these kids really do have ADD and are in control of our future, we are screwed. Have you every had a conversation with someone who has severe Attention Deficit Disorder? But that's for another day.

Notice the patriotic hats?

Despite my ranting, I do not take over the counter meds every single day, nor does my family. Hell, they don't always work. But, I remember a time a friend didn't have anything to ebb the pain from falling on my face and knocking out a tooth.

I am not an expert nor do I have any credibility in the medical field. Those who know me pretty much already know all of this, too. I just really like to believe I have anonymous loyal readers out there!

Life is short and painful enough.

I just really like this picture.