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.