Monday, December 22, 2014

Turn Down For Whhaaaa?

A few weeks ago I went out with mah friends for a girls night out and someone asked "Are your friends not fun?" directed towards me and my other friend. WHAT?! Me?! Not FUN?! Are you freaking kidding me? I'm the most fun person you'll ever meet, bitches. So why was this poor, half cocked girl so confused to assume that I am NOT fun? Was it drugs? Does she need an intervention? Does she need to be called out in a blog that she doesn't know about but someone might show her someday? You bet your sweet ass she does. As I contemplate what possible way I would ever be seen as not fun, I guess there were a couple reasons I came off as a little..ahem.."not fun" last night. Here they are!

1. I was driving. There were a lot of people out, I was driving with like 3 other people in the car and I felt like being responsible. Sue me. I guess I'm just a great friend.

2. I've been trying to lose weight and I have been losing weight so my pants were really big which very much inhibits any twerking action I felt like partaking in. Kind of hard to pop, lock and drop it when you don't have a belt and your pants are constantly falling off. So yeah, once again, sorry for being so hot I guess. And too cheap to buy new jeans. They're expensive, ok.

3. There was like a ton of freaking people at the place we were at and sometimes I don't like rubbing up against random people when trying to get from point A to point B. I don't know what kind of diseases these people have, we don't know that Ebola didn't get it's jump off up in da club from sweaty people grinding on each other. Plus it might be really fun if you are some hard body babe trying to squeeze past a couple guys, they probably enjoy having your lady parts all up on their backs but when you have the extra curves which I have, you tend to just get a lot of dirty looks and feel in the way the entire time. So I rather sit, out of the way, and not get scowled at by guys who either want nothing to do with me or think I'm a bitch because I don't strike up conversation with them as my ginormous boobs slowly slide across their being on my way to the bathroom.

4. Actually you know what, forget number 4. I don't have to justify why I just happened to not be in the mood to socialize for one night.

By now you should know how ridiculously long it takes me to finish a blog post. Well thankfully this once took a couple weeks because the most mind blowing thing happened to me THIS weekend which goes hand in hand PERFECTLY with what I was talking about when I first started writing this. I feel like this entire post is going to either make me lose or win friends but I'm doing it. Seriously, my friendship needs to come with a disclaimer that says "If you talk to this person you may or may not end up on a blog that 35 people read."

So this weekend I was bombarded by the exact opposite reaction. Apparently I'm a freaking ride or die, guns ablazin', party all night, dance off pants off, ain't goin home til 6 in the mornin' type girl. At least that's the impression I have made on at least one person who I have never, ever met in my entire life. So how is it that I can be suddenly pegged as these two opposing profiles? Is it just these people have terrible judge of character? Has my secret double life finally been brought to light by a couple of Nancy Drews? No. not at all. It just goes to show that you shouldn't determine who a person is without at least getting to know them a little. You really can't rely on pictures and third party stories to give you insight on how a person lives their life. At least I come off as insanely interesting.

Love always,
Rac"Turnt Up"hel

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Big Mouth Bertha

Sometimes I open my mouth aaannndd...word vomit. This happens a lot when talking to people for the first or second time. Everything starts off really well, make some small talk, ask them about themselves but then they, in turn, inquire about myself. "WEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL...... *20 minutes later* so the doctor says, get this, it's NOT dry skin! It's a fungal infection! *another 20 minutes* and that's the story of how I became a woman.......*10 more minutes* which is funny because my social security number is......*in closing* So to answer your question, here. I live here...."
So why do I do this, even when my mom warns me not to? Why do I think it's even a little bit appropriate to tell people embarrassing or non flattering tales of my life, when it would be easy to just keep my mouth shut? Do I have no self control? Well, by golly, I'll tell you!
One of the most important things about making a first impression, is to read the room. Where are you? What kind of people are you surrounded by? Is it a casual or a more professional setting? If I know I am in a more professional setting, I will be as professional as I can. So juuust this side of white trash... If it is a more casual setting or I have met the people at least once or twice before, I like to see how far I can push it.
I feel like telling a somewhat embarrassing story is fine, especially if you are telling it in a humorous light. Being able to take what could be a not ideal situation and seeing the humor in it tells you a lot about a person. It says this person doesn't take life so seriously, is fun, outgoing and more approachable. More likely to be invited to do things because they bring a little something extra to the party. Like drugs. Or hookers.
Usually I spend the first few minutes listening, I try to figure out who people are and what might fly with them. When around people you don't know that well, I try to make jokes that are blatantly obvious jokes. If I'm talking about my job I might say, "Oh yes. I work at *completely normal job* but I moonlight as a stripper. Now if you actually have a nice body, can do your makeup and appear to be somewhat flexible, this joke might not work for you. But for an overweight, 28 year old who has to give herself pep talks when bending down to pick up items, it's a lot funnier. If they laugh, you can go even more serious and without smiling say "What? Why is that funny?" Then everyone gets deer in headlights looks and you say "JUST KIDDING! I don't think they make strip poles thick enough to hold all this!" *motion to lava hot, couch potato bod*
Can I be crude? Yes. Does this sometimes backfire and blow up in my face? All the freaking time. Sometimes I misjudge or take things too far, surprisingly I'm not perfect. Being funny isn't always easy, you have to have a sharp wit and a quick tongue. (Obligatory "That's what she said") Unfortunately, humor can be very, very subjective. This is when trouble arises, recovering from one failed joke is hard enough, if this happens several times, you're on a sinking ship and that sucks. Some people just aren't going to think you're funny but whatever awful childhood incident led them to this sad, humorless adulthood is not your fault. I like to think that someday, somewhere, those people will be thinking back to our encounter and as they think about what an idiot I am, a smile will appear and that shit will be because of me.
You're welcome, you uptight jerk.
Well it's good to know that I am still an expert when it comes to starting a blog post on one subject and ending on another. I would go back and edit that but meeehhhhhhh.. it's kind of on topic.
Stay relevant suckas.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Life's like a box of chocolate...laxatives.

Yes. It's official. I had a Facebook status meltdown about infertility the other day. Am I proud? No, I am not. Did I do it for sympathy? No, I didn't. I did it because I saw something about babies that just tipped me over the edge and outbursts happened. I probably didn't need to put it out there for all my 200 some Facebook friends to see but it all happened kind of in a typing fury blur. Kind of like when you stub your toe on a coffee table and suddenly you just want to go full THIS IS SPARTAN on everyone and everything near you. So it happened and I posted it and I'm leaving it.

It is extremely, extremely hard to deal with life sometimes. I've said it before, I am not a religious person but I believe that yes, things happen for a reason. I don't mean like little piddly everyday dumb stuff. If I get flipped off by some jackass I don't think, "Oh well, he probably needed to get that aggression out somehow. Now he won't lash out at someone in his family." No, that guy is just an asshole but when it comes to life altering events, yes some of it happens for a legit reason. However, when you are in the now, dealing with all the heavy shit, it is very hard to see what kind of good is going to come of it. And sometimes, once you do look back and see what came of it you realize WTF. The outcome wasn't even that good! Who decided that it would be ok to have my damn cat ran over so I could learn a life lesson about loss?! I could of hit a freaking squirrel and learned that shit, it didn't have to be my cat. Drunk ass universe and your shit lessons.

So seeing the good in things when they seem completely stupid and unfair is super tough. Like this whole infertility thing, maybe there is a reason it's all messed up. I'm not implying that it's because we are not supposed to have children but maybe there is a reason it is taking longer and more effort than normal. I mean, it would be super freaking great if the universe would let me know it's reasoning behind this ordeal. I don't think it's too much to ask, honestly. Like maybe if we were meant to get pregnant on our own, it would have happened a long time ago. Like right when we started dating and I didn't know how babies were made so the rhythm method seemed like a pretty solid form of birth control. That would have really, really sucked if I would have gotten pregnant the first about 6 months of dating. That sounds bad to say but I was there and let me tell you, big hott mess. Not good.

Maybe something big is going to happen in the next year or month or even tomorrow that will really alter our entire view on what our lives are and what we are supposed to do in the world. Maybe I will be cast in a Marvel movie or maybe I'll procure an insignificant flesh wound from a knife fight at da club when I'm goin' hard. We don't know what the future brings but we can hope there is a reason things happen and that no matter the path, we will eventually end up exactly where we are supposed to be. How can I know this for sure? Because how I met my husband was the most unlikely, round about way that you could imagine. There was absolutely no possible way our paths would have crossed if not for the very specific way things happened. And everyone I have met who has had a major effect on me has occurred because of the way things happened beginning at that point in my life. Many of them I know I wouldn't have met in any other way and even if I did, I know that the connection that I would have had with them would not have been the same.

Moral of the story, things happen for a reason. Even if it's something really crappy and unfair and a total load of bull, you have to have faith in the universe or whoever you think has control over your fate, has your overall best future in mind. Of course don't expect you can just sit on your couch and good things will happen for you. You still need to work towards your goals, I mean I've done so much research on the female and male reproductive systems that I am confident if they ever form a Pen15 club in my area, I will surely be president of my chapter. So I've go that going for me.

Later gators.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Livin' Life in the Danger Zone or "It's not herpes, you a-hole!"

It's not always clear what is right and what is wrong but sometimes it's very, very obvious. Which makes it all the more messed up when you still choose the wrong thing. This is about the point I imagine religion becomes incredibly handy. Just ask the spirit in the sky, they can tell you what to do. Just pick up this book, it will tell you cautionary tales to use as metaphors for this exact situation. Unfortunately, being someone who isn't religious (or as my mom likes to say "a hell bound pagan") I don't have any kind of preset standard to live up to. I have to look to myself for advice and for some reason the universe gifted me with my very best friend in the world Lynsey. She is literally the only one other person in my life I feel like I can tell my deepest feelings to. She doesn't judge me, please take a second to acknowledge what an extremely heavy statement that is. Everyone judges everyone, but I honestly feel she doesn't judge me. I used to think I had other people in my life I could talk to but very recently it was made clear to me that not passing judgement is almost an impossible trait to come by. Which is fine, it's human nature to size someone up. But whenever I feel like I just have to talk to someone, it's Lynsey. Or myself. Which can end very badly.

It's not that I'm a bad advice-giver, I think I'm pretty good at it. It's just that I'm defiant as hell, I'm a bad advice-taker. Even to myself. I'm all "Hey. Be sure to look both ways before you pull out onto that street.." and then I reply "I WANT TO FEEL ALIVE!!" And pull out like a maniac without looking. Why? I have no freaking idea. Apparently I have some kind of death wish or want to ruin my life for some reason. Why do we do things that we know are dangerous or stupid? I tend to over think things, so I know perfectly well when I am about to do something completely idiotic. But I'm am damn good at convincing myself that the immediate satisfaction is worth the overwhelming risk that I do it anyways, knowing exactly what the consequences could be.

By this time you should know how much I love giving examples so here it is:
As you may or may not have read in previous posts, I have this issue with taking pointy objects to my face with the idea that it will make my skin look smooth and lovely. Not in a gory, horror film way but in a "I like to pretend I am some kind of dermatologist" kind of way. So the other night, I go to the bathroom and notice what appears to be a blackhead between my nose and my lip. A very sensitive place, mind you. I slowly reach for the X-acto blade and the 3-in-1 extractor tool from Sephora ($23, and begin imagining my life without this nearly invisible to anyone but myself blemish.
Am I a trained professional? No.
Have I done this before? Yes.
Did it end badly? Of course it did.
So long story short, the next morning I woke up with a hideous lesion near my upper lip that looks, according to Google image search and strangers, like herpes. Needless to say I spent my weekend indoors, out of the public eye. I did, however, muster the courage to go to work on Monday morning, only to have my co-worker ask me, LOUDLY, what was on my face within 5 minutes of being there, in front of the whole world. Thanks, jerk. Also the husband had zero sympathy towards my plight and every time I would begin to pout and yell "LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT MY PAIN!" he would reply "WELL?! Stop taking knives to your face."

The moral to this story is: If you know something is a bad idea, you probably shouldn't do it. Because you might end up looking like you have herpes, or worse, you might get an actual STD.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

School of Hard Knocks

Once upon a time, I was in a play. Yes, this is about Annie again. Last rehearsal, I had to actually sing my part in front of everyone. I chalked the audition nervousness up to being in front of a bunch of people I barely knew. Well turns out I have this GOD DAMN stage fright bullshit. Lines, would have been fine. Comedy, presentations, I can handle that but I just WANTED, PLEADED for this dang singing solo. How was I supposed to know I wasn't going to be able to sing in front of a ton of people? Besides the fact I can't even sing in my own house if someone else is home, or in front of my family, or my friends? Shocker! Now if it were a room full of my dogs, I'd rock the shit out of it. My dogs LOVE to listen to me sing. They follow me into my studio aka the guest room full of books, craft stuff, clothes and my keyboard squeezed in there and let me serenade them for hours. But I get in front of people, nice people who were probably looking at me very sympathetically but I didn't notice since I was too busy LITERALLY dying from embarrassment, and my mind decides it would be a great time to screw with me.

Brain- "Hey guurll heeeeyyyy"
Me- "Shut the hell up brain, I'm trying to concentrate!"
Brain- "Oh my bad! I just have something to tell you! Just real quick. Just REEEEAAALLLLLL QUUUIICCKKKKKK. REEEAAAALLL QUUIIICCKK, REAL QUICK"
Me- "Damnit! What?!"
Brain- "OK! SO! Remember that time....when we were really 5 or 6...when we were in Girl Scouts? Remember we were doing that show? It was in that cabin at that park with the big lake? ....and we were like wearing that construction paper duck mask? ......and you had to say that line....."
Me- ".........don't you do it....don't you bleeping do this to me, brain....."
Brain- "Yeaaaah...remember that?...and we had to do that line...and we couldn't do it? And we just started crying REALLY HARD and couldn't breath...and that Natalie girl had to do our line for us because we were ruining the ENTIRE show? Remember that?!'S RIGHT NOW!!!!  STUPID LITTLE DUCKLING!!"
Me- *angry tears* "You the devil brain, you the devil."

Guys, it was awful. I just murdered it and everything from that point on, I was done. There was no coming back, any bit of confidence I had was shattered. I barely got through the rest of the rehearsal. A couple big hearted people told me I did a good job but compared to how I sound at home, singing with my dogs, it was horrible. I text my husband and told him what happened. His advice was to close my eyes and pretend they weren't there. That may have worked for Ray Charles all those years but I don't think I could pull that off. I wanted to quit. But I'm no quitter...hahaha just kidding, I quit halfway through everything. Fortunately or unfortunately, I made a commitment and I need to follow through. I guess I'm going to have to beg and/or pay some very patient and/or homeless people to sacrifice a few minutes of their time to help me get over this issue. Who knows, maybe I'll get my part taken away, which would be really awkward come Opening Night when I shank whoever takes my spot and use their blood as war paint as I belt out MY solo.
(Dear police, this is just a tasteless joke. It's kind of my thing. Please do not arrest me.)

Well I'm off to google "how many drinks do I need to overcome stage fright" and "cheap, high capacity bra flasks".  Stay thirsty my friends.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Drama Queen or How to Make Your Life Seem Like A Movie!

I have been called a drama queen for as long as I can remember. Not just because of the tantrums I have been perfecting for 28 years but also because I sometimes lose touch with "reality". Not really, but people think I do. It has come up more than once from my husband, several times in the pre-marriage counseling sessions we had in fact. "She thinks life is like some kind of movie!" Yeah, ok, I know life isn't a movie but shit man, it's way more fun to pretend it is. If it helps me get through the day then what's the big deal? So you might have to play along with it once in awhile, is it really going to kill you to go dance in the backyard under the supermoon for 5 goddamn minutes with me? Is it really going to disrupt your schedule that much to pretend we are running from the cops or doing a party montage to an, at most, 4 minute song?? You can't let me have one emotional charged monologue once every few months? Seriously world. Get the fuck over yourself and your reality.

How to make your like seem like a movie

1. Spend a day lounging around, don't do your hair or makeup, don't shower, wear sweatpants, be as gross as possible. Basically every Saturday in my household. THEN make plans to go out, take shower, do your hair and makeup, get dressed up and TADA! IS THIS SOME KIND OF UGLY DUCKLING TURNED BEAUTIFUL SWAN STORY?! LOOK AT HOW FABULOUS YOU ARE! MOVIE MAGIC!!

2. Go for a car ride with friends. Put on an awesome song such as "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. Have someone driving, wearing retro sunglasses, a passenger stare out the window at the edge of the road and power line poles, doing that little making waves thing out the window in the wind. If you have another friend, have them sit in the center of the back seat and do something funny and then all of you silent laugh at them. This makes a great beginning or ending to your brain film.

3. Have a dramatic "I just don't know what I am doing anymore" moment. This is easy because you can do this while in the middle of absolutely anything. All you do is close your eyes, put one hand on your forehead, the other on something nearby to keep yourself from falling over and quietly weep while moving your shoulders up and down in a dramatic fashion. Do it while: loading the dishwasher, doing laundry, looking at yourself in the mirror, cleaning, after yelling at your dogs for not getting the dance steps right, literally anytime.

4. Next is the "NO. I CAN DO THIS." moment. This happens sometime after #3. Do a heavy sigh, stand up straight, shoulders back and walk with purpose. Yes, YOU CAN! Don't do this while playing "Eye of the Tiger" in your brain jukebox though. That's so overdone.

5. Romantic scenes can vary, dancing outside in the moonlight, go outside and kiss when it's raining, lay in the grass holding hands.Since this involves another person, sometimes it's best to just skip this unless they are totally committed. Otherwise it will be half assed and stupid. What? I'm not bitter....I'M NOT.

All of these things should be done with a sweet, sweet soundtrack playing either in your head or with your phone.It's guaranteed to back your life more entertaining and slightly more bearable. Hell, take it one step further, and pull out "The Director". Anytime you are in a situation that you really rather not be in just yell "CUT! CHANGE SCENE!" and hustle away. No one will know what the heck is going on and you have just given yourself at least a 10 second head start. *Disclaimer* this spiffy move is best used for awkward social situations but not really events such as funerals, police interrogations, or anything else that is actually serious.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

THE REAL WORLD: The Birds and the Bees

My family has an unusual way of...let's call it sympathizing...with me lately. As of this month we have been trying to get pregnant for over a year. The other day when my mom and I were talking about it she said something about how she didn't have me until she was 30 so it's ok if we waited. Lady, I've been trying to get knocked up for a year, keyword trying. It's not like I plan on waiting, it's just not happening. Then she asked something like "Well...are you doing it right?" Hooollldd up...what do you mean "doing it right", we actually have to do something?!?! Like together?!  In the same room?! WELL SHIT. I'm glad somebody finally explained things to me! Don't I feel foolish. Here I've been, 12 months, just sitting on the couch waiting for the immaculate conception!
Since I feel like I'm not doing something right...............................don't know why on Earth I would feel that way.....................*cough* I decided to PROVE it with statistics or whatever. So I restocked on ovulation prediction test strips, a basal thermometer and printed off charts to record everything. OH! So beautiful! So wonderful! This whole trying to get pregnant thing has officially become a pain in my ass. I shouldn't say that, I know there are people who try for years to get pregnant but for just a minute I want to bitch about it. So here it goes: this is ridiculous. It's a lot of work for something that is supposed to just happen. I'm pissy, I'm emotional and I don't give a fruck anymore. I don't want to go to the doctor, I don't want to have to take my basal temperature everyday, which you literally are supposed to do BEFORE YOU MOVE in the morning. I'm sick of catching my piss in a tiny shot glass size cup and dipping strips in it just to see once again I'm not ovulating. Last night I spilled it, yep that's right, I spilled my piss filled cup, all over my shorts, the bathroom rug, the floor. I'm sick of every month, not only getting to realize I'm not pregnant again, but then having mother nature kicking me when I'm down and giving me the most painful back cramps, front cramps, side cramps, Carrie prom scene in my pants, worst high school periods of my life. Oh hey girl hey! Guess what! You're not pregnant and also fuck you! Stab stab. Have fun with those khakis, stupid! AWESOME!
 So just to give fair warning, these are a couple of the things, that if said to me or any other woman trying to conceive, will eventually get you a punch to the throat.
1. Are you doing it right? < Insert part A into part B...You're right, this IS basically rocket science
2. Are you trying hard enough? <What does this even mean?!
3. You're trying too hard! Just relax! < Like chloroform relax? SH SHH SHH.. JUST BREATHE
4. Do you know you can't get pregnant or are you just assuming? <.....................................*PUNCH*
5. I knew a couple who tried for 463 years before they got pregnant. < Ain't nobody got time for that.
6. Is it you or him? <Actually it's you.
7. Maybe try a different guy! < This one, not funny. At all.
8. You're young still! < And you're still an ass
9. Well so and so stopped trying and 3 months later they were pregnant! <Oh really!? THANK GOD me and so and so opted for the 2 for 1 twin uterus special and we are exactly the same!
10. Show me how you're doing it....... *Creepy smile* < *creepy smile back* ....ok

Yes, I understand people are just trying to make me feel better and it's not like I don't want people to talk me but dammnnn. It's just hard to not to think it's my fault, which it is, in a way, my fault. I'm still in denial that there could be something not working right, you know, down there, my lady insides. I rather just pretend for awhile longer it's because I'm actually doing something wrong, not because I'm broken. YEAH YEAH YEAH I KNOW. "You're not broken" I don't want to hear it. Let's just talk about unicorns instead for a little bit, ok?


Sunday, August 24, 2014

Almost Famous

Even though I have a backlog of blog posts to publish, I just HAD to write this little snippet as an update from my failed Chicago plans. Still upset about that. Well since I didn't make it to Chicago this week, I was able to make it to auditions for the local production of "Annie". Why was this a big deal? #1. I can count on one hand the number of times in my adult life I have actually tried to sing in front of people. Unlike karaoke, where I majestically flail my arms around in interpretive dance, I was sober and spent several days practicing the song I would be singing. I can read the shit out of lines, I can (badly) dance like nobody's business, I can do presentations, make speeches, perform marriage ceremonies, entertain a crowd of people with little hesitation but when it comes to singing in front of people, actual quality trying my best singing. I can't do it. I get nervous, I feel stupid, I feel completely exposed. #2. I have made leaps and bounds progress since college with my social anxiety. At one time I was unable to walk into a room if there were already several people in it. I have wanted to try out for the local theater for a few years now but I always talked myself out of it at the last minute. This time I did have a friend to go with (shout out Jamie!) so it made things easier but I feel like even if she hadn't been there, I would have gone. Because sometimes you just have to do it.

They held auditions on Tuesday and Wednesday night, I went on Tuesday. I read for Grace first. When it came to the singing part of the audition, I asked them if I could sing the "Star-to-Be" portion of the song NYC instead of Grace's part because I didn't really want that big of a part and I would like to be considered for the "Star-to-Be" role instead. So I sang the "Star-to-Be" part, I was super, super nervous and I could tell I didn't sing at 100%. I read for Lily as well and the rest of the night went great. There were a lot of very talented people and I heard even more auditioned on Wednesday night.They told us we would get an email on Thursday sometime letting us know who was cast.

As promised, I received an email on Thursday and HOLY SHIT I got the part I wanted! Sure, I was probably the only one who asked for it and auditioned specifically for it but I feel pretty cool soooo don't burst my bubble or I'll cut cha.

Well that's my update. I'll post this and in a couple days I'll post one of the 3 other posts I have ready and waiting.

Sunday, August 3, 2014

What I learned at my 10 year high school reunion

Welp. Last night my husband and I attended my 10 year high school reunion. I forewarned him plenty of times that I only had about two friends in high school, today he told me he now knows why that was, I'm a rude, loud-mouth bitch. Yeah, we know. I've never claimed to anything else. Ok it actually wasn't THAT bad but I am loud and obnoxious. I do want to point out, some of it is definitely a defense mechanism, when I go out any other time I am friendly to everyone and we have a lot of fun meeting new people. There is just something about being put back in that high school situation, not being talked to that made shit weird last night. Old habits die hard, I guess. That being said, this is what I learned:

1. Don't expect things to be any different than how you left them. In my case, I was a transplant in 7th grade. I didn't grow up with these people, none of us were best friends in elementary school, grew apart in middle school and got to reminisce about the old days when we had sleepovers and pool parties. I'm not going to pretend no one talked to me, we had a pretty nice sized group all night. But I definitely didn't get talked to by the majority of people. I also didn't attempt to talk to any of them, honestly I don't know how they wouldn't know who I was but I didn't want to take the chance of saying hi to someone just for them to look confused and awkwardly turn away.

2. Don't expect people to be nice talk to you just because it's been 10 years. I think my favorite/most devastating part of the night was when I stopped to talk to a girl I know and everyone else in her group immediately walked away from us. It was funny because I felt like I was in some teen movie and was sure later on I would have a shining moment of redemption with Zach Efron (This did not happen). On the other hand, it did make me feel like an idiot. I held on to hope thinking maybe I just had bad b.o. or something but later on when my friend was talking to some of the same people, I got shut out again. I guess some people just don't want to talk to me. Which is fine, I don't expect everyone to be my buddy. So I wandered into another group that I didn't fit in with that well, so then I latched on to a friend's husband and probably really creeped him out. I'm just too god damn socially inept for this shit.

3. Cliques don't die. Safety in numbers, I get it. It's bad enough you are going to your 10 year reunion, why wouldn't you hang out with the same people you did in school. I was very impressed with a couple people who walked around mingling. Good for you, you have balls! I sat at my table, only getting up to go to the bathroom, get a refill or run away to the patio where it was dark. Like an opossum. Hiss.

4. No one really cares about what you've been up to. Unless it was actually someone you hung out with in school and they already know about your life because Facebook. Not at one point did I need to tell anyone about anything, because I over share on social media and my blog. I make stalking me easy, I basically force it onto people.

And the most important thing I learned is #5. The last 10 years of my life have been great. I have done so many amazing things, met some amazingly wonderful people, I have made awesome friends that I care DEEPLY about. I look back at who I was in high school and can't believe how much I have changed. I've accomplished a lot and I'm proud of myself. It hasn't been easy, there have been plenty of rough patches but I got through them with help from my friends and family. I woke up sad today, feeling that I was put back in my place last night but you know what, I fucking like my place. My place is the shit, there should be like a bouncer to get in here. VIP and all that. Bottle service. I don't need other people to tell my what I'm worth, I look at my life, at my friends and I know I'm golden.

That was lame. But I meant it :) Later gator.

Friday, August 1, 2014

I messed up.

"Never let your fear decide your fate...."

I screwed up. I got scared and I didn't register for my immersion course in Chicago soon enough and the class is full for the week I was able to go. I'm upset, I'm really upset. I'm also relieved, which makes me sad. Because I really wanted to go through this experience and I think it would have been really good for me to have done it. But I let my hesitation get the best of me, I waited until the last minute and now I've missed out. It wasn't just being scared of the unknown, it was a big commitment time wise away from work, money wise the cost of travel, boarding and the actual course price. I would be alone in a city I've never been to, doing things I've never done. Even little things like navigating the L Train or the city bus lines are brand new to me. It makes me anxious thinking about it. I would have to meet new people, I wouldn't know anyone there. It would literally be like being reborn, I would be completely in the raw. It would've been a great chance to find out exactly who I am and what I'm made of. Yes, I am upset I took this chance away from myself. It makes me feel like a failure, I let myself down and I am the only one to blame. I had 100% support behind me from my family, friends, co-workers. No one doubted for a second I could do it, except for myself. Even now I could try calling, plead with them to make an exception. Please, PLEASE let me join. Please make room for just one more. But I won't, I'll sit here and feel sorry for myself. But also relieved, that I didn't try and end up failing anyways.

This is a terribly depressing post but sometimes life isn't always happy. I guess the biggest piece of advice is exactly what I wrote above "Never let your fear decide your fate". At the risk of sounding like a complete emo kid, these are lyrics from one of my new favorite songs. It just happens to correlate with what's going on in my life right now. Kind of like how the lyrics to "23" by Mike Will Made It ft Miley correlate to my life on any normal day. "I be in the club, standin on a couch. In them Wolf Greys, like it's my house." I literally do this every day. It's uncanny.

So that's the story about how my procrastinating bit me in the butt. I am, however, going to audition for a local production of Annie; this time I'm going along with a friend so I actually have to follow through. I think I'm going to shoot for the stars and show up in a red, curly wig and little red dress. Because that definitely wouldn't creep anyone out.

Thank you everyone for the support you showed me in effort to help me follow my dreams. I hope I didn't let anyone down too terribly. It's nice to know you guys have my back, no matter where my crazy plans lead me. Don't worry, I'll get there someday.

Friday, June 20, 2014

Church Camp

The other night I watched a documentary called "Jesus Camp" about an insanely intense Christian summer camp where children are taught they can pray in tongues, should protest abortion and many other very conservative values. As I watched this, slightly horrified, I reminisced back to when I went to summer church camp. Specifically the last year I went to church camp. Let me tell you a story.....

The year was... I don't remember but I think I was about 13. For the sake of this not sounded completely terribly, let's say I was definitely 13 maybe almost 14. I was also very mature for my age, both mentally (I was told) and physically. So keep that in mind.

13 years old and getting ready to head off to camp. Due to travel plans, my father who usually did the dropping off at camp, was unable to take me this year so my very wonderful aunt graciously drove me the 3 or 4 hours to visit my uncle near where the camp was. Also due to scheduling, my father had called ahead and gotten the OK from the person in charge (I'm assuming Jesus) that I could be dropped off the day before camp started. All the older teen counselors were there getting the place ready so I would be supervised for the 12 extra hours. So I get dropped off, they introduce me to the 4 or so counselors there and I tag along with them as they are getting things ready for all the campers who would be arriving the next day. One of the counselors is this very cute, blonde, tan guy who I followed around like a puppy, all day. What can I say, I did and always will love them menfolk. I flirted heavily with this poor guy, at least I tried. I helped pull crap out of the barn, we got all sweaty, he took his shirt off, we all went swimming (there was a lot of splashing and grabbing) and the regular adolescence teasing and flirting.

The next day, my fellow campers arrived. We were all in our early teens, and there was between 8-10 of us. 4 or 5 girls, 4 or 5 guys. Thanks to the luck of the draw and also the fact my I was semi well endowed at this stage and my swimsuit was slightly too small, making it a smidgen too low cut for what would be considered appropriate church camp attire, I quickly became the popular girl in our little group. Not with the girls, of course, but those boys sure were friendly. One boy specifically, was very friendly, you could almost say he was my "camp boyfriend". We would always sit next to each other and hold hands. Aww. So between the hot counselor and the bf, I was having the best week of my life. Like I have said before, I never got much attention of guys back home but due to the lack of other females and the oppressive nature that is church camp, I was the shiiiit.

Being the bad girl I was, I would make it my mission to sneak into the boy's cabin. For whatever reason, our "cabins" were actually treehouses or built on stilts up in the air or something. So to sneak over I would have to scale down the ladder out of our cabin, run over to the boys tree, climb the ladder and jump in the cabin while the counselors were off doing whatever. Usually using the bathroom or rounding up the rest of the campers, trying to herd us into our cabins. I usually made it up and got kicked out right away because I am not tricky at all. Except once. Like I had done the previous nights, I snuck over and this time instead of standing in the middle of the cabin or sitting on the floor, I ran and jumped into the cot of the my camp bf. The counselor came up, it was dark, "didn't notice" (hard to believe) and we thought it was hilarious. Then it hit literally. Then IT hit me. Right in the back. It took me a second to realize what it was but suddenly I knew. It was a erect penis. It was incredibly awkward yet strangely confidence boosting, at the time I didn't know even a slight breeze could cause a teenage boy to stand at full attention. I promptly stood up, apologized to the counselor, turned and gave a head nod to the boys in the cabin and said good night. Thinking back, I'm sure I wiggled my little teenage ass right in there to "get comfortable". It's still my signature move to this day.

So that is the story of my last year at church camp and first boner to the back. I was touched by more then the Holy Spirit that summer. You're welcome.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Dear Diary

Some days I wake up and it's like my brain has been reset, I completely forget how to function. I don't know how to dress myself, I'm screwing up at work, I forget how to communicate with my face hole. The struggle is real. I have been stressed out lately so I'm assuming some of it has to do with that but I think some of it probably has to do with the fact that I'm just getting older and I just forget. My memory is terrible, I attribute some of it to the Internet, my brain is so used to a bombardment of information that some of those other memories just get pushed aside. I seriously can entertain myself by reading my old posts because I don't remember writing many of them and so they all seem new and super funny to me. My brain is too full, if that's a thing. When I went to visit my Grandma (she's super smart), she told me she keeps a journal when she travels and writes down everything she did, so I thought I would start that as well. Except I was so busy every day that I only very briefly summarized our activities and now I'm kicking myself for not taking the time to do it. Since it's not just vacations I'm having trouble remembering, I was thinking I could just keep a journal everyday. A big endeavor for someone who can't manage posting on their blog once a month. But if you are going to keep a journal to remind yourself of all the things you want to remember, all the feels and such, you would have to be brutally honest and straight forward when you wrote in it. If you truly wanted to be reminded, which I would, there would be some very personal things written in there. Now this leads to several issues, here are just a couple examples of why this could end horribly.

1. I die a terrible and untimely death, family comes across my journal and read in resulting in an incredibly awkward memorial service and funeral. If they even decided I deserved one at all.

2. Husband comes across it and decides for some reason mah bidness is his bidness, reads it and I get served divorce papers. Soon find out I am not an actual responsible adult, I just look like it sometimes, and end up living in my mom's backyard with 23 cats, 19 bunnies, a couple of squirrels and a raccoon because I think I'm Snow White or a majestic animal whisperer.

3. Something happens to one of my many acquaintances, my journal is confiscated and I spend the next 25 to life years in prison because I'd easily be found guilty by a jury of my peers. "I didn't mean I would actually stab them.. I was framed!"

4. Lose journal, stranger finds it, reads it, is fully disturbed and turns it into the police. The government spend lots of time an effort trying to decipher what the hell it says until they decide "f*ck it just throw the bitch in a padded room". OR maybe I stumble upon some secret government conspiracy, write down what I know, they find out and have me....silenced. I feel this is the most likely scenario. Because I'm like super good at detective-ing and shit.

So I probably won't be keeping a journal anytime soon.

Friday, May 9, 2014

Fake Fancy Pants and Real Designer Bags

What is this strange place...oh yeah. It's my blog I have completely forgotten about. Why hello! Does anyone still read this?
I recently returned from a week long trip to California, the state of the Gods. It is the most wonderful place on Earth. I thought Florida was my favorite but California is really a top notch state, I highly recommend going there. Anyways for any of this post to make sense I need to start with this sentence: I am not a fancy bitch.

As I drove to work the other day, in my shiny white, new-ish SUV (The Limited) wearing a white blazer with rolled up sleeves (because Miami Vice, duh) with my new overly large Coach bag in the passenger seat next to me, the faint remnants of grade A cocaine on my nose, I thought to myself the words spoken by the great Canadian, Degrassi Alum Drake "You Fancy, huh?"

No Drake, actually I am not fancy. It's true my vehicle is pretty badass but it's just a Ford. My dressy blazer was on clearance because they used it on a mannequin and it had pinholes in the back. The Coach bag was on deep clearance from an factory outlet in California. The cocaine, actually powdered sugar because I'm a fat kid. I literally ate a handful M&M's for dinner once this week. Moral of the story, it's doesn't take much to look fancy. I couldn't help but wonder while I was driving what the hell I was doing, this isn't me. I'm not one of those people who finds solace in brand names. I'm the girl who wore a hoodie to high school, every. single. day. I'm the girl who didn't know how to use a makeup brush until age 23, I'm the loud, trash mouth girl who randomly isn't wearing pants for some reason.

So what exactly am I trying to do? Simply get approval, approval from people I don't know, approval from people who 10 years ago I couldn't give a shit less about what they think of me. But for some reason this is important to me now. And I don't like it. I feel like a fraud, I feel like I'm trying to prove I'm better than other people, like I want people to be envious of what I have. Maybe I am, I don't really know anymore. It's so easy to get caught up in what you should be that eventually the real you starts to fade away. It's hard, so much of our lives are influenced by our surroundings but what if that is all we are? Just a modge podge of other people's expectations?  A frappuccino of things we hear and see everyday.

Jesus, that went way deeper and in a totally different direction than I thought it was going to go. I'm just going to stop there before I get any more emo. Moral of the story is: Be yourself, it's actually a lot harder than it seems. Find something that reminds you of who you truly are and never let it go.

Bye kittens.

Friday, March 28, 2014

Stupid Things I Do.....

Believe or not I am NOT perfect...shocker, I know. I always seem so pulled together. This is what my sarcastic font looks like. I've said it before and I'll say it again, public shaming is where it's at. That being said here is a list of stupid things I do or have done lately.....

1. On my lunch break the other day I thought it would be an awesome idea to wipe off all my makeup and yield a razor blade to my face in hopes to better my skin. Not only was it on my lunch break but it was in the last 20 minutes of my lunch break. My face looked like I had been ravaged by a tiny velociraptor. So then I had to pile on makeup and then I broke out. Vicious cycle.

2. Just realizing my Facebook profile wasn't set to completely private. Yes apparently sometimes when I posted stuff it was displayed for the public to see. Including a couple things I probably shouldn't have posted in the first place. So that was super freaking awesome, not. Stupid Facebook trying to show off my goodies.

3. Going out and actin' a damn fool. This one I can at least give myself a little credit, I don't go out and start fights or talk shit to people. I'm never really mean or anything. But I do love to dance and once in a while, perform karaoke. I enjoy the spotlight by nature, I'm loud and proud, to the dismay of many hipsters, prudes and those types of people that actually care about what they look like by 12:30am out at the bar. So yes I get the occasional sneer or glare and yes it makes me want to slash their car tires and YES it hurts my feelings. But you can't stop a buffalo from roaming and that's what I am, a loud, dancing, karaoke performing buffalo. And as it is sung in Same Love by Macklemore.. I can't change, even if I tried. So suck it betches.

Since re-reading the above #3, I figure that doesn't really count as something stupid. Being yourself is nothing to be ashamed of but this is:
3. I always forget to turn my phone ringer off before work. Nothing like talked to your boss as "Straight Outta Mordor" starts playing from inside your purse. Especially when it gets gradually louder and you try raising the volume of your voice to try to cover up the lyrics "Pour more of that maiden bangin' potion".

4. I own black clothes. And I wear black clothes - a lot, which wouldn't be an issue except that I live with 3 dogs and a rabbit. Just getting out of the house in the morning wearing black pants is like navigating a minefield. A minefield with little dog bullets trying to rub up against you. We should seriously consider buying stock in lint rollers.

5. I'm late for work sometimes. But it's rarely for a good reason. It's usually because even though I am on time, I always find something I NEED to do before I leave for work. Like stare into my freezer or say my last goodbyes to my animals in case something were to happen to me or see what my hair would look like in a bob or to rip off the spanx cami I thought I could deal with wearing all day but realized after 23 minutes that there is NO way I could stand wearing it for 8 hours and expect my organs to function properly. All very important things. Or not. I guess we'll never know.

So those are 5 out of the 1753 stupid things I do each day.

Until next time my lovelies!

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

One time we ate a hobo's green beans...

When I was in about 7th-8th grade, my friends and I used to tear around our neighborhood like real O.G.s (that's Original Gangster for those of you unfamiliar with Ice-T). We were not your typical tween girls. Though we did spend a chunk of our time sitting on our friend's front steps, checking out the older neighborhood boys who paused at the 4-way stop in front of her house and also nonchalantly riding our sweet bikes in front of their residences 200-300 times a day, the rest of the time we did a lot of thrill seeking, adventurous type stuff.

We didn't live too far from several parks, two of which were connected by a creek. Being completely unsupervised and extremely confident of our swimming skills, we would wait until after a heavy rain, go down to the creek and prepare for excitement. The creek would become a raging, larger version of itself, we would start at the park furthest away from our houses, grab a section of log that was loose, ride the rapids down to the next park and swim in our good ol' swimming hole for awhile before we would trudge back home, filthy, stinky and almost always slightly damaged from the rocks. That creek was so rocky and full of woodsy debris, that if you tried to use some kind of inflatable it would be immediately punctured and torn to shreds, hence the brilliant idea of using a log as a canoe. When there was no floatin' log, or if the log became to heavy, we would opt to travel via body board, aka just floating on your back the best you could. you had to be really careful when you came up to the really rocky sections and either walk it or arch your back up as far as possible to keep from being smashed to hell. Also, PROTECT THE HEAD.

Anyways during our sweet rafting trips we would come across some very unexplored terrains. Because no one else was stupid brilliant enough to float down a polluted crick. There was a beaver dam, a couple deep spots good for dunking or jumping into off of cliffs and then there was the giant metal tubes that supported the busy road above one section of the creek. Or maybe it as just one, I don't remember, I'll have to walk down and look this spring. Anyways this is the title of this blog comes into play, one time while we were exploring the big metal cave we came across the remnants of a fire pit and some slabs in the position of a seat. Though there were clearly signs someone had claimed this spot we quickly stuck our flag in the gravel and commandeered it as our new territory. It was a nice little set up, we had our different rooms, made furniture out of logs and rock slab, we were basically the G-damn Flintstones. We spent a lot of time and energy pimping our metal tube out so imagine our surprise when we returned one day to see someone had hunkered down and had used our awesome fort as a residence. Sure looking back on it now, I feel bad for whoever took shelter in our pimped out pad, but at the time we were pretty pissed. I mean HOW DARE THEY violate our sweet clubhouse (that we had stolen from the first owner) with their homelessness. Bastards. You might be wondering how we knew someone had used our clubhouse, well just like poor Goldilocks, we happened upon them, all cozy with their backpack..............and that's the story of the first time we killed someone. JUST KIDDING. For the love of God don't call the police.

What really happened was we noticed someone had burned a log in the fire pit and they also had left a can of green beans. Being the inconsiderate asshole daredevils we are, we immediately began daring each other to eat the green beans...which we opened caveman style, by banging the can open with a sharp rock. I just want to stop here and remind you, we were like 12 or 13 at this time. Full survivor mode, if there is EVER a zombie apocalypse, we are totally going to be Doomsday Rulers.  Anyways, we bang the can open and after daring each other to eat the green beans, we all do it together. And they tasted like victory.

So that's the story of us being asshole kids, ruining some homeless persons makeshift shelter and stealing their food. Sorry buddy.

Until next time kittens!

Sunday, March 9, 2014

The Way, Way Back

*Disclaimer* As a foolhardy attempt to clean up my act I have decided to go back through my blog and try to post some of the many drafts I have started writing and never finished. The best way to break a bad habit of procrastination is to kick it in the crouch and make it your bitch. Also *Grandma I am sorry I swear so much in my blogs but I can only work on one character flaw at a time.." So Procrastination, prepare to die. As you will see, the timeline is going to be very off. Such as, in this post I talk about my four year old niece, Ellie is now 6. #timewarp. I'll even change the font color of the old post so you don't break your brain.

I had an interesting conversation with my niece Ellie, age 4, while driving her to gymnastics class. I was telling her that while she was in class, she should try to really focus when she was practicing. Not to get too excited when it was her turn to do the different moves because you could get hurt or more importantly, mess up. Yes, I am one of those overly involved freaks you see on TLC shows and yes I do plan on living vicariously through my niece. So I am explaining to her what it means to focus, we practice focusing on my finger, practice focusing on the car ahead of us, we are just a couple-a focusing fools, I tell ya. So we are focusing on this van ahead of us at the stoplight, looking at all the details on it, the color, the license plate, the make and model, doing great when all of a sudden Ellie looks at me with squinty eyes and slowly tells me "I've never ridden in a tractor before."
I look back at her, dumbfounded because I was so focused on the van ahead of us and ask her "What?" and she replies "A tractor. I've never ridden in one. OH LOOK! A PLANE!"
So I added "teaching a 4 year old how to focus" to the list of Impossible Tasks, right under "clean entire house" and right above "get father's approval" *collective AWWWWWWWWW* haha just kidding (no I'm not). But teaching a 4 year old to focus is a tough job, actually the whole parenting thing in general seems like a pretty impossible thing to do.
Either it's because I don't have a little child of my own, or maybe because I really do feel like I need my father's approval, (it's that one) that when it comes to little kids, it takes a lot to impress me. I don't know if that makes sense, just bear with me, ok so what I mean is I am just sometimes too critical, of little kids, I'm a kid critic. It sounds like I'm a huge jerk but I'm not..well maybe a little. Like I really enjoy watching and helping Ellie do her gymnastics, I've very proud of how well she does. But I am also very strict with her and unless she does something really well or close to, I don't think she needs any praise. As I type this I am trying to think of other examples and I am starting to realize that it's only her. I am only that way with little Ellie. All the other little kids in my family, my friends' kids, nope I'm not hyper-critical of any of them, everything they do is cool. It's poor Ellie who gets the brunt of the madness. 

 Looking back I realize I was a dick to Ellie and I'm happy to say I have changed since then. Mostly because she isn't in gymnastics anymore, but also because I realized that even if she isn't the next gold medal gymnast she is still amazing. The way her brain works, the things she says, her ability to kick ass playing Subway Surfer or that Minion game on her mom's phone. The fact that she loves Albert Einstein, she is obsessed with Morgan Freeman, even named her baby doll after him and refuses to swear even when I try really hard to trick her into it, because she "is too little to say bad words". Best of all, she loves me for no reason. If I lost my job, my house and smelled like cat urine, she would still love me. After all bullying I put her through and I am still her Auntie Rachel. Which is why I am convinced she is the best person in the world. Period.


Tuesday, February 18, 2014

It's Adventure Time! Not the show.

Most of you already saw my Facebook post but for anyone who didn't I announced some big news. No, not a baby, not everything is about babies. I have the opportunity, thanks to an understanding husband, to go to Chicago in August and take part in a week long immersion training course at The Second City. I am super, super excited for this adventure and I can't wait to experience something I've only ever dreamed of doing. I know I'm not going to suddenly be chosen to join the cast of SNL or something like that, I'm not THAT unrealistic. But clearly I will probably be offered my own sitcom. Ever since I figured out how to make people laugh, I have imagined being a part of something bigger than myself. More than that I want to prove to everyone that you CAN DO IT. If you want something, GO GET IT. I work at a library, I never saw myself working at a library but I do. And I work. I come into work every day and I work. I work so we can have a house, I work so we can have a car, I work so we can pay our bills. My husband does the same thing, every day. We have worked HARD the last 8 years. We have gotten raises and promotions because of our hard work. And now finally, FINALLY I have the chance to do something I have always wanted to do because I have the money and resources to do it. This was not the path I thought would take me to this point but that's life. Sometimes things don't end up like you thought they would, this isn't a bad thing, some of the best things in life are the unexpected surprises. In 7th grade, I never thought I'd have a boyfriend but guess what I did get a boyfriend and I married the hell out of him. I was told I would live in a cardboard box, well guess what, I only use cardboard boxes to build forts INSIDE MY HOUSE, cause I have a house. I drive a Limited, we call it the unlimited, because when you get in it you are transported to a magical land where anything can happen.  You can't let fear keep you back in life. I am terrified to go to Chicago on my own, I'm scared that I'll walk into class on the first day and I won't be any good. What if I'm terrible, what if everyone hates me, what if I'm not prepared? What if I get abducted? (most likely scenario of all because I'm hilarious and everyone loves me) Seriously though, as scared shitless as I am, I am forcing myself to push through it and go. Because this could be my only chance to experience something like this...and I can't let my fear of what could happen totally screw it up.

In closing, follow your dream, don't let fear delegate what you can or can't do in life and fill your life with as much cool shit as you can. Because someday you will die and they will not let a corpse skydive, I've asked.

Love Always,

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

New Year's Eve-hab

I think I owe everyone an update! Remember that New Year's Eve have this friend. She's a lot like me except she is much more of a party animal. I won't tell you her real name because I don't want to embarrass her but her nickname is Coco. So I decided that Coco should come with hang out with us for New Year's because she didn't really have anything planned and I felt bad and didn't want her to spend New Year's Eve alone. Coco is a very sweet girl but she doesn't always make great life choices, New Year's Eve was no exception. Coco got a little cray cray. Here is what happened. The Lady Wolfpack (my 3 BFFS) and I all met up for a mellow night in with our mens to play a little Cards Against Humanity. I told them about poor Coco being all alone and being the super nice people my friends are, they welcomed the idea of having Coco over. So she comes over and we are all having fun, hanging out, having a couple drinks. Next thing I know I don't see Coco anywhere. Apparently no one had really noticed how much partying Coco had been doing and she was not feeling too hot. We found her in the bathroom (no shade, we've all had our turn but then again it was only about 10:45.) Poor Coco was sooo stoked about New Year's Eve, that she must have overcompensated and over did it. I can't say I blame her, obviously if you read my post about NYE you would see I too was super stoked about partying it up too. We were both really excited to hang out with our friends, one of us made good choices and the other one made not so good choices. It happens. No biggie deal, probably shouldn't rub it in her face or anything, I'm sure she already feels not so cool. So being the nice person I am, I volunteered to take Coco home and I spent my New Year's on the floor of a bathroom..with Coco. Sure we missed the ball drop but I think everyone learned a very valuable lesson about self control and knowing your limits.
I don't know when I'll hang out with Coco again, she hasn't called or text me lately, I think she is taking some time to reflect. Which good for her.

Besides Coco getting totally trashed, we spent an awesome night hanging out with our friends, playing a game and just being around people we love. I can't think of a better way to spend New Year's Eve. Except for maybe partying up in da club. :)

Bye fellow chupacabras.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Not your usual blog post.

Sometimes I get deep into random people's lives, like I see them on Twitter and then Instagram (hint: I have both those now! #ImSoHip) maybe I find their blog, then it all hits the fan. Lately it's been people who hangout with people who are on the brink of being famous. For some people this is not a big deal, they just say "Hmm. That was interesting" click off and continue with their lives. I am not one of those people, if I spend more then 15 minutes looking at your stuff, I am suddenly totally invested in this creepy, one-sided relationship. And everything you do seems super cool, and everything your friends do seem super cool. Which again is totally fine, if it's something like admiring someone's fashion or attitude, lifestyle but again this is where stuff gets weird for me and I start thinking things like 'Hmm...cocaine seems kind of cool...." or "Wow... face tattoos CAN be tastefully done". I try and be an individual but sometimes I just get caught up in things and stuff gets a little crazy for awhile. No biggie...until I end up with a sweet Mike Tyson tribal tat and in rehab for a coke problem.
Things have just been weird for me lately, I don't know if I'm just realizing I'm finally an adult or what but I have just been a huge fan of reckless behavior. I'm still kinda young (compared to some people) but I feel like I'm definitely getting into that old people category...I'm having a mid-mid-life crisis and I don't know how to handle it. I'm sure one major player in this current catastrophe is that we were all ready to have a baby and I was super confident in my baby producing skills. And the months came and went with nothing to show except for my weight gain due to getting off the meds I was on pre-baby making endeavor. It's like when you are super excited to go hiking. The whole time you're super excited to go, drive there, it's all so very fun as you wander through the woods, everything is magical! Then the little annoyances begin, you get a little sunburn, it's kind of hot out, you accidentally squat in some poison ivy and you realize you have to walk alllll the way back to the car which is really, really far away now. Then you ask yourself why?! Why am I putting myself through this torture?! (I feel like that was a terrible metaphor but I know what I'm getting at)
The second major player is my stupid 10 year high school reunion. Which I can't decide is a big deal or not. Like on the one hand I don't really care because I really don't think anyone there really give two shits about me or my life, I'm definitely NOT going to get any disappointed looks. If people even remember who I am it would probably be more like "Wow! You're not dead! Good for you!" Or it will be people who are already my Facebook friends and they will be like "Please...stop posting about your leg hair and other weird stuff. It creeps me out. And why are you wearing a wig right now?" On the other hand, it would be cool for people to talk to me. It would be even more awesome if a bunch of people could maybe act like I'm super cool with my super cool blogging and maybe mention that a lot. And I will pay you,if you do that, if I have money. Deal? DEAL! Wow that feels so good to get off my chest.

well until next time my little wombats.