We Are Family

Is it just me, or do Brooke Shields and Fabio look a lot alike?

It's Not You, Ryan Gosling, It's Me...

I love Fuck Yeah! Ryan Gosling. Whoever created this is a wonderful human being. It's really terrible, though, because now, were I ever to date Ryan Gosling, I would expect him to say these things to me. And he won't. And I will be sad. And our relationship will fall apart.

Which is why I'm going to preemptively say this: Ryan, I don't think things are going to work out between us. I know. It hurts my heart too. This is for the best, though. I'm sorry. I'll never forget the time we almost shared together.

You'll always be the one that stayed away.

Awkward Bathroom Experiences: She Got Dumped (And Not Like That)

Yesterday at work I went to the bathroom to do some business. I swear, this isn't going to be graphic or TMI. I promise.

I usually use the handicapped stall because it's big, it has it's own trash, sink and the best hand soap in the building. This time I did not, as it was currently occupied...by two people. Oh dear. This sure isn't awkward or anything...

I really needed to make use of the facilities, so I stayed despite the weirdness. The two women were talking. Well, one was talking, the other was sobbing. Apparently sobberella had just been dumped by her boyfriend. Comforting friend was trying to make her feel better in all the usual ways, "You'll get over this, you are SO much better off, he's an ass!" He probably is an ass, but I really don't need to hear about it. Sobberella sobbed on.

So, here I am in the bathroom, trying to take care of my bidness, overhearing a very personal conversation and massive amount of sobbing and gurgled, muffled responses. This is the most awkward bathroom experience I have ever had, even worse than hearing a woman using the stall next to me have a conversation on the phone...about how much something hurts. Use your imagination.

People, let's stop using bathroom stalls like they're some sound-proof box of invisibility. They aren't! If you cannot keep yourself together after a break-up, maybe you should consider taking a personal day. If you need to gab to your friend about how much something on your person hurts, may I suggest waiting until lunch or after hours to make this call privately from your car or home?

I'm just sayin', there are other options besides making everyone in your vicinity feel more uncomfortable than they probably already do when using a public restroom. Seriously. Consider shutting the eff up. We will all appreciate it.

USP.S. Oops! We Lost Your Package!

I ordered my mother's Christmas gift off of Amazon, and at first was disappointed to discover it wouldn't arrive until after Christmas. So, technically, I ordered my mother's after-Christmas present from Amazon. Still, I was excited. I was even more excited when they emailed me to tell me it'd be arriving by December 9th!

Huzzah!

I, of course, took to tracking this package with much glee and celebration! It left it's home in New Hampshire on the 6th, and made it to the town next to mine on the 7th! It looked as if I may get it even before the 9th! Yippity-doo!

This, however, is when I lost the package's trail. It was scanned for departure from the town immediately next to mine on December 7th, at 09:02:18 AM. Then? Then an "Arrival Scan" is logged,  location unknown, December 7th, at 10:32:00 AM.

I am led to believe the location of this "arrival scan" of which they speak, is the post office in my town. If this is true, where the crap-ass is my package?? Post Office, you received it the SEVENTH. It is now the THIRTEENTH. How does this make sense to you? There wasn't a holiday in between that would delay my package's arrival. We also live in the same town. We have gotten mail every day (excluding Sunday) since.

I have concocted several scenarios that could explain this missing package.

1. My town's Post Officer has kept it for himself, as he is surely a dastardly fiend.

2. My Post Person (can someone be a post person? are we ever pre-people? think about that) got into a terrifying accident before reaching my abode, and is now out in the wilderness fighting for her life against all odds and also fisher cats.

3. As my Post Person was about to place my package in my mailbox, she and her Post Official vehicle were abducted by aliens. These aliens really like Glee, Season 1.

4. My arch nemesis has taken control of the Post Office and is ceasing to deliver my packages. I envision them laughing maniacally while selling stamps. Evil!

5. My local post office is full of fools.

6. My house and mailbox have been caught in some sort of wrinkle in time.

7. The Universe is having a good joke. On me.

So, whatever has delayed it, it appears this present may be an after-Christmas present after all. If the aliens are done with season 1 by then...

Genes Don't Count For Much, Right?

My Pepere had surgery on his eye yesterday. My mom called my Aunt's house where he's staying while mending, and asked to talk to the pirate. After finishing their conversation, my Aunt got on the phone and asked my mom how Pepere sounded.

"Good? He faded out a couple of times, but good. Why?"

"He was holding the phone upside down!"

This from the man who also tried to change TV channels with a calculator.

My future, coupled with the rate at which technology is advancing, is looking rather grim. But, it should be pretty interesting for everyone else.

This is How We Do it: Christmas Music (if it were up to me)

My favorite Christmas albums in existence, the standard to which I hold all others, are the A Very Special Christmas albums. Seriously. They're spectacular. There are, apparently, seven. We only own four of them - the first three, then the fifth in the series. I found this suprising, and so I did a little research to understand why these aren't already a classic in our home.

First, let me tell you, you haven't heard Christmas music until you hear these albums. At least the first 3, for sure, but we'll get to that later. Let's start at the beginning...

A Very Special Christmas (1987) Clearly it must be good, everything made that year was perfection. Ahem...

If the fact that the CDs were created in order to benefit the Special Olympics, and that the cover art was designed by Keith Haring doesn't convince you of it's epicness, then take a gander below. The track listing goes a little somthing like this:

1. "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" - The Pointer Sisters
2. "Winter Wonderland" - Eurythmics
3. "Do You Hear What I Hear?" - Whitney Houston
4. "Merry Christmas Baby" - Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
5. "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" - The Pretenders
6. "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" - John Cougar Mellencamp
7. "Gabriel's Message" - Sting
8. "Christmas in Hollis" - Run–D.M.C.
9. "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" - U2
10. "Santa Baby" - Madonna
11. "The Little Drummer Boy" - Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band
12. "Run Rudolph Run" - Bryan Adams
13. "Back Door Santa" - Bon Jovi
14. "The Coventry Carol" - Alison Moyet
15. "Silent Night" - Stevie Nicks

I don't think any more needs to be said. This line up is killer. And I don't even like Bon Jovi, so that's really saying something.

A Very Special Christmas 2 (1992)

1. "Christmas All Over Again" - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

2. "Jingle Bell Rock" - Randy Travis
3. "The Christmas Song" - Luther Vandross
4. "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" - Frank Sinatra/Cyndi Lauper
5. "The Birth of Christ" - Boyz II Men
6. "Please Come Home for Christmas" - Jon Bon Jovi
7. "What Christmas Means to Me" - Paul Young
8. "O Christmas Tree" - Aretha Franklin
9. "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" - Ronnie Spector/Darlene Love
10. "White Christmas" - Michael Bolton
11. "Christmas Is" - Run–D.M.C.
12. "Christmas Time Again" - Extreme
13. "Merry Christmas Baby" - Bonnie Raitt and Charles Brown
14. "O Holy Night" - Tevin Campbell
15. "Sleigh Ride" - Debbie Gibson
16. "What Child Is This?" - Vanessa Williams
17. "Blue Christmas" - Ann & Nancy Wilson
18. "Silent Night" - Wilson Phillips
19. "I Believe in You" - Sinéad O'Connor

Ok, so after copy-pasting the track listing, I suddenly realized...I don't think we have this one! This is wrong and must be righted immediately! Or, if we do own it, I need to listen to it on replay until it's ingrained on my mind and heart permanently, like sharpie on a drunken, passed-out frat boy.

A Very Special Christmas 3 (1997) My very favorite!

1. "I Saw Three Ships" - Sting

2. "Christmastime" - The Smashing Pumpkins
3. "Children, Go Where I Send Thee" - Natalie Merchant
4. "Santa Baby" - Rev Run & the Christmas All Stars featuring Mase, Puff Daddy, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Salt N' Pepa, Onyx & Keith Murray
5. "Oi to the World" - No Doubt
6. "Blue Christmas" - Sheryl Crow
7. "Christmas" - Blues Traveler
8. "Oíche Chiún (Silent Night)" - Enya
9. "The Christmas Song" - Hootie & the Blowfish
10. "Ave Maria" - Chris Cornell with Eleven
11. "Christmas in the City" - Mary J. Blige featuring Angie Martinez
12. "Santa Claus Is Back in Town" - Jonny Lang
13. "Christmas Song" - Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds
14. "Christmas Is Now Drawing Near At Hand" - Steve Winwood
15. "O Holy Night" - Tracy Chapman
16. "We Three Kings" - Patti Smith

Maybe because I am a child of the 90s, but No Doubt, Blues Traveler, Hootie and the Blowfish, Chris Cornell, Dave Matthews, and Salt N' Pepa and Snoop Doggy Dogg?? Ack! It's like heavenly angels have descended on earth to sing to me personally! Hark! The herald angels sing! To me! And only me! Chris Cornell's "Ave Maria" is my favorite version in the whole wide world. I will admit, at times I have skipped over Enya, Steve Winwood and Patti Smith. But the CD is, overall, the greatest thing to ever happen to my life besides successfully taking my first breath out of the womb.

After this came A Very Special Christmas Live (1999). I ruefully do not own this, but it has been added to my Amazon wishlist. It's essentially a whole boatload of awesome, so I'm not going to list the tracklist here. Just google it if you're that curious, geez!

A Very Special Christmas 5 (2001)

1. "This Christmas (Hang All the Mistletoe)" - Macy Gray

2. "Little Drummer Boy/Hot Hot Hot" - Wyclef Jean
3. "Noel! Noel!" - Eve 6
4. "Blue Christmas" - Jon Bon Jovi
5. "Merry Christmas Baby" - Stevie Wonder & Wyclef Jean
6. "O Come All Ye Faithful" - City High
7. "Christmas Is the Time to Say I Love You" - SR-71
8. "Christmas Day" - Dido
9. "Run Rudolph Run" - Sheryl Crow
10. "Back Door Santa" - B.B. King & John Popper
11. "Little Red Rooster" - Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers
12. "Christmas Don't Be Late (Chipmunk Song)" - Powder
13. "Silent Night" - Stevie Nicks
14. "I Love You More" - Stevie Wonder & Kimberly Brewer
15. "White Christmas" - Darlene Love

Again, this was a great album. It took a little longer to grow on me. I wasn't sure how I felt about SR-71's song, but let me tell you, I love it to tiny little bits and pieces now. I think I usually skip Dido on this. I'm just not a huge fan. Sorry, Dido!

Next in the series was A Very Special Acoustic Christmas (2003). I do not own it, nor do I plan to. It's essentially a country music album. Country music and I don't get along ever since I cheated on her and backed over her bloodhound with my beat-up pick-up truck.

Finally? The most recent installation: A Very Special Christmas 7 (2009)

1. "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" - Colbie Caillat

2. "Let It Snow" - Carter Twins
3. "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree" - Miley Cyrus
4. "Winter Wonderland" - Vanessa Hudgens
5. "Little Drummer Boy" - Sean Kingston
6. "The Christmas Song" - Charice
7. "Do You Hear What I Hear" - Kristinia Debarge
8. "Jingle Bell Rock" - Mitchel Musso
9. "Cristmas (Baby Please Come Home)" - Leighton Meester
10. "Santa Baby" - Kellie Pickler
11. "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" - Carrie Underwood
12. "Last Christmas" - Ashley Tisdale
13. "Silent Night" - Gloriana

To start: Who are these people? Am I really that old? It got me curious, so, since I do not own it, I went to Amazon to "listen to samples." I thought, "Well, just because you have no idea who most of these names are, doesn't mean this isn't a bitchin' compilation."

Eh. I was pretty much wrong. Though, that may be because they were trying to aim for a younger crowd, so I got a little boxed out. Which is cool. I'm just not going to purchase this CD. Here are some thoughts (keep in mind I only listened to "samples" which means about 30 seconds of each song):

I know there is a limited number of classic Christmas tunes, and trying to write a new one is like holiday suicide, but Sean Kingston, I'm terribly sorry. Your "Little Drummer Boy" rendition will NEVER live up to Wyclef Jean's. I see what you tried to do - add some funk and spice it up. But it's been spiced. Haitian style.

I don't know who Leighton Meester is, but her song was my favorite off this album. Actually, Carrie Underwood's song was pretty good too. So was Gloriana's, though, again, I have no idea who they are.

Kellie Pickler, why are you trying to do Madonna's "Santa Baby"? I know, it's a Christmas standard, but you aren't Madonna (and thank goodness for that!). So make it your own, baby girl! I just wikipedia-ed her and she's older then me. Sorry for the "baby girl," Kellie!

If I could create my very own A Very Special Christmas...oh the possibilities! I think it'd have to go a little something like this:

A Very Special Christmas 8

1.P!nk - "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"
2. Paramore - "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"
3. Maroon 5 - "The Christmas Song" (or maybe Backdoor Santa? Adam Levine's pretty saucy)
4. Usher - "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)"
5. John Mayer - "Blue Christmas" (he could blues that ish up big time! ooh, or "Merry Christmas Baby")
6. Katy Perry - "Santa Baby"
7. Beyonce - "God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman"
8. Miranda Lambert - "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" (or "Blue Christmas")
9. Shakira - "Feliz Navidad" (is that stereotyping?)
10. Black Eyed Peas - "Carol of the Peas" (haha! get it! Okay, I don't really know what they'd sing. Maybe they could amp it up and also add their own twist, like when Rev Run & the Christmas All Stars re-did "Santa Baby." Ya dig?)
11. Adele - "O Holy Night"
12. Fiona Apple - "Silent Night"
13. Train - "Walking in a Winter Wonderland"
14. Sara Bareilles - "I'll Be Home for Christmas"
15. Cake - "Jingle Bell Rock"

The songs I've chosen are mere suggestions. I haven't even considered order, though this seems fine to me. I almost feel like the artists have to pick their songs for themselves (as long as their aren't repeats - then they can battle it out Celebrity Deathmatch style) so that they get that much more into it. This Fantasy Christmas Album Team could change at any time. It took me all day, all-freaking-day, to come up with it, so my brain has kind of detereorated into yesterday's figgy pudding. Still, I'm pretty pleased with this. A Very Special Christmas, this is my gift to you. Now, please get on this posthaste. I've got a lot of listenin' to do once you've made it.

Happy December 1st, everyone!!

Sunday School: Overheard Conversations

I was in Marshall's yesterday, in line to purchase my selected goods, when the woman in front of me's boyfriend joins her in line and drops another package in her arms.

It was a nose hair trimmer.

"Good, you need it." She says. "You should get it lasered."

"I knew a guy who got it lasered and they didn't do it good," he informs her.

"That's 'cause you gotta keep going." She's clearly a little exhasperated. I wish I had had the guts to check out this dude's nose situation. I might've better understood her concern.

"No, it's 'cause they didn't do it good." I am now imagining a terribly botched nose hair laser session, because of which his friend now looks like Voldemort.

"I had it and they did good for me."

"No, they didn't."

BURN!

This. was. hilarious! I literally had to stifle laughter. It didn't end there, though. She followed up with, "No, down there." Which is what one might call "TMI." It also means she has had more than one laser hair removal procedure, and for at least one of them, "they didn't do it good."

I checked out at Marshall's with a sweater, a holiday gift, and knowledge. And that, my friends, is priceless.

Confessions of a Sad and Pathetic Nature

1. It just took me far too long to log in to my blogger account. That isn't necessarily the sad part, what is is why it took me so long. Typing in my e-mail address went fine up until I got to the '@' symbol. From there I started to type my friends twitter handle (handle? really? what am I, a trucker?). I managed to recognize this was wrong, but could not remember, for much longer than I care to admit, what should come next. Which means, this post almost didn't happen. Scary thoughts, I know. It also means I spend way too much time on twitter.

2. I am physically incapable of  throwing out this jello. The cafeteria at work did not serve lunch today, but had some purchasable snacks on hand for the hungry worker. When we we're leaving, however, they had some of the perishable snacks for free. The cafeteria man was standing right there and offered them to us. My co-worker accepted and I felt she had set a precedent and now I must also, lest I insult cafeteria man. So I grabbed some red jello. I do not want this red jello. But I cannot just throw out this red jello. That would be wasteful. I know that is what was going to happen to it if I didn't take it anyway, but someone else would've been doing the throwing. Not me. I cannot be wasetful. So you can bet I am going to eat this damn jello that I do not even want, and probably be gagging the whole time.

3. This week I have been extremely fidgety. This happens every so often, and I am pretty sure it means my body is reaching a new level of atrophy. It's saying, "exercise now, or no longer be able to lift your coffee mug!" I should probably work out, but instead I'll just stock up on straws. Deteriorating muscles be damned! You can keep me immoble, but you can't keep me down!

4. I am terrified of spiders. I came back to my apartment one night, and found this gargantuan eight-legged atrocity hovering right above my doorknob. I stood at the end of the driveway (so the spider would look smaller than it actually was) for at least a half an hour before working up the courage to do something. Let me remind you it is November, and night's are not particularly warm. I was texting my roommate to see if she was coming home and would save me from this plight, and my phone stopped recognizing that I had fingers that were pressing on the touchscreen -- that is how cold my hands were. Anyway, a frigid half an hour goes by, and I finally sneak up to the front steps, eyes averted the whole time, in order to grab a decaying pumpkin, back away, and then hurl it at our front door. Spider 0, Sarah 1.

Though, how many people get to say they smashed their own pumpkin? Take that, Billy Corgan.

Pro-cat-stination

I wish everyone at work had to wear tiny little bells on them so that I could hear them coming from a cubicle mile away. Then I could more swiftly minimize my browser-window-of-procrastination du jour. It would work similarly to the belled collar my former cat wore as a warning to all birds in her vicinity. If they didn’t notice the bright white kitty crouching stealthily in the green foliage, then they’d hear her as she flung herself through the air, pouncing onto her tweety bird prey!


That actually sounded more cruel than helpful, like when you hear the jaws theme song you know you’re about to die a gory death at the hands (fins?) of multiple rows of serrated teeth and there is NOTHING you can do about it. But the collar really did work; I don’t think she ever caught a single bird. She did, however, try to learn to fly herself one day at my parent’s house. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t just GO THROUGH THE FREAKING HOOP instead of backing off the railing of the deck, falling what had to be a couple of hundred feet.

She lived though, so that’s good. Now I don’t have to live with a lifetime of guilt for driving her to her untimely death by being the most dedicated trainer she ever had in her dream to become America’s Next Top Circus Cat!

If not for her fear of circles, she would’ve done it, too. *sniff*

Fin procrastination

Plastic Forks are Useless

Things Plastic Forks are Defeated by:

1. Apples
2. Meat of any kind
3. Other things made of harder plastic (ex.: tupperware, flimsy plastic plates, plastic knives)
4. My fist
5. Probably my pinky
6. Rocks
7. Marshmallows
8. Time
9. The slight application of pressure
10. Cotton balls
11. Heat
12. The little mermaid's hair
13. Tinfoil
14. Minorly resistant surfaces
15. Fine china
16. Russia
17. Jello

I think I have proven my case beyond a shadow of a doubt.

On a silly, but slightly more serious note...

I wrote this last night. Growing up is hard. Letting go is hard. Even if it's just selling the bureau you've had in your room at home for nearly as long as you've been there. It's change. Okay, and maybe, maybe, I'm a little hormonal. But it was still hard. And writing this all out helped me come to terms with it (well, until I was hit with another hormonal wave, but let's focus on the positive here!):

I'm getting upset about a bureau being sold.

I know it's ridiculous.
My mom said, "I'm not going to baby you, I want you to get over this."
I don't need to be babied. I need to be understood.

It's true that, in part, I've ascribed feelings to this inanimate piece of furniture. Pulling it apart, drawer by drawer, dragging it out through the rain to wait in the car port for some new family (a good one, I hope) to come take it away forever, makes me feel cruel, and like I don't appreciate all it's been for me. It's a piece of my history. My childhood. It's big, it's hard to move, it's not the most attractive, but it was always there, and always mine.

It's been in my room for nearly as long as I have, and it is a piece of home. Selling it is getting rid of a piece of home. It is change. It is sad, it is scary, it is upsetting. No matter how small the piece. It is a reminder this home won't be here one day. It won't be my home. It may not even be anyone else's home, it may just be gone. Completely.

I know it seems silly, crying over this piece of furniture.
And I know it was my idea in the first place.
It took me by surprise too.

I've never been all that good at letting go.

I'm just sad. I don't want to be babied. I don't think a hug, and you saying "It's all okay" is being babied. It's proving to me that home is not with this furniture, but with you.

MTV Killed the Music Video Star and then Brought her back from the Dead

So my friend tweeted this link on (where else, but) twitter. It talks about MTV's decision to fund music videos made by, and starring, some big names in an attempt to revive the essentially mini-movie art form.

I am actually pretty excited about this. I remember when MTV and VH1 actually played music videos instead of these...over-hyped, mind-numbingly asinine reality TV shows. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate all reality TV (just most of it!). I love me some America's Next Top Model (Tyra's so cray-cray!), but at least one (16 and Pregnant, anyone?) is pretty much glorifying teenage pregnancy, which -- and maybe I'm alone on this -- doesn't sound like the best idea. I can see the so-called "thought" forming in teens heads everywhere now: "Wait...so you mean I can get on MTV?? For being 16 and preggers?? That's all it takes?? IWILLBEFAMOUS!!!!" I mean seriously, people. Their brains aren't fully formed yet! Why must we put this idea in there to rattle around in the desolate emptiness?? They're going to love the noise!

But I digress (a lot). I can remember being pumped when I woke up early (in my formative years this didn't happen very often) because I could turn on MTV and VH1 and they'd actually be playing music videos! I never understood why they hid them away until the wee hours of the morning when no one was even up yet. I felt that calling themselves "Music Television" was some gross false advertising, as they never even played any music. I know I'm not the only one who felt this way, so it feels good that they're really going to start making an effort to bring music videos back.

I might have to start watching them again. And let me tell you, people, it has been years.

So, kudos MTV! And don't let me down (again)! From the look of "Pow Pow" you're off to a good start!

Flattery gets you nowhere...except in my Top Ten Favorite People of All Time list

Once upon a time, I went to college. Freshman year I met some of the most excellent people ever, and as we had bonded so thoroughly, participated in our very own round of Secret Santa. It was apparenrlty found out by my friend that I loved Angelina Jolie, so she gifted me a drawing of Angie. It resided in my dorm room for the remainder of that year.

On one occaision, a friend was in my room and happened to spy this drawing.

"You know, she kind of looks like you right there."

While I can neither confirm nor deny that he was on some sort of hallucinogenic drug, I was absolutely flabberghasted. I choose to take the fact that he said Angelina looks like me (and not that I look like Angelina), as a compliment - the most beautiful woman in the entire world (in my obviously humble--and in no way distorted by our percieved similar visages--opinion) looks like ME!

Despite the fact this person and I will probably never see each other again, he will always remain one of my top ten favorite people of all time.

It is clear to me that my roommate's boyfriend has heard of this list and is desparately trying to claw his way onto it, as last night he said I look like Anne Hathaway.

Sigh. Soon, my friend, soon. Keep up these valaint efforts and you will be in my gracious favor before long!

Half-Ass or No-Ass?

I know that this shouldn't even be a question, but I am currently in the throes of deciding whether or not I should go vote tonight.

It is, undeniably, my civic duty, and it isn't something to take lightly. It is important, and I truly believe that. I am, however, completely unprepared.

I was looking at the sample ballot for my precinct, and I...I don't really know any of the people on it or what they stand for. I recognize some names from the ridiculous mudslinging and Big Dig finger pointing, but beyond that I'm at a loss. I have been trying to educate myself (albeit very late in the game, and I only have myself to blame for that), but I still feel that I lack the knowledge to make an informed vote.

Which is worse? Not voting, or voting (nearly) completely blind? I think the only thing I think I know for sure is how I feel about the ballot questions.

I feel wrong not voting, and I feel wrong voting for candidates based solely on the D or the R next to their name (or worse, at random). To me, if that's how I will have to decide, I might as well do their numerology and vote based on that.*

Is voting uninformed worse than not voting?

I want to vote and I know I should. I firmly believe we must know our rights and excersize them. I just don't see how going to vote and essentially choosing candidates at random is a good thing. This isn't a multiple choice test in my high school English class on a book I didn't read.** I can't suss out the correct answer by process of elimination, or complete guesswork. Getting this answer wrong doesn't just effect my grade for that section (I still got a B!), this will effect the future of my state and my country. I do not want to half-ass this.

So (for the third time) I ask you: Is half-assing better than no-assing?


*Note: I will never, ever do that. Numerology involves adding and I am strictly against math of any kind.

** Mrs. Kerrigan, if you are reading this, I am being purely hypothetical. I, of course, read ever single book you ever assigned. Twice. At least. Maybe even more than that. No, no I am not lying. Why do you ask?

Poor Timing, Take 2: I didn't bring a lunch today & am too poor (see: stubborn) to buy one

The best decision I made all day was buying a bag of Wheat Thins Veggie flavored Toasted Chips.

For 80 cents!!

The saddest part of my day? Well, it was not waking up at 4:40am to ride the T for 40 minutes to South Station in order to take the commuter rail back home to go to work, after staying up til 12:30am and then realizing you wrote down the wrong train times...oh no! It was finishing said bag of Wheat Thins Veggie flavored Toasted Chips.

Those things are tasty! Would it be weird to lick the inside of the bag? It'd be weird, right?

...right?

Poor Timing

Today I got my flu shot. They offer them at work once a year, you know, before flu season wipes us all out in a snotsoon. Tomorrow night is the Halloween party my roommate and I are throwing at our apartment. She is not going to be home tonight, which means I have to singlehandedly decorate our apartment. Depending on how the shot effects my arm depends on just how single-handed the decorating will be. I hope there aren't any heavy decorations, or else the floor will end up being the most fabulously decorated surface in our dwelling.

Snow White bit it, but this time it wasn't an apple

I have come to the conclusion that, if there is a bandaid on your hand and you (inevitably) must use the rest room, you will, upon washing your hands (assuming you are the least bit concerned with personal hygiene), dampen the bandaid, thus rendering it un-wearable as its adhesion and cut-protective powers are ruined.

You may try to push the bandaid down firmly, willing it to form a near-surgical bond with your skin, but, of course, all attempts will be futile.

My Snow White bandaid and I just struggled through this very scenario, and it was a harrowing experience indeed.

Oscar de la Rubbish bin: Grouchin' time!

Today is Friday. This is generally cause for celebration, but today I am less than celebratory. Don't get me wrong, I am pumped it's the end of the work week! But I am 89 years old, have started growing green fur and have taken up residence in a trash can.

I have a lot of work to do today. And more than anything I wanted to do nothing today. It's Friday. I feel that on Friday, it is my given right to do absolutely nothing, while passibly pretending to be doing something (kind of like every other day of the week, actually). Instead, I will procrastinate as usual, letting my boat fill up with water slowly, until I absolutely cannot procrastinate anymore and must frantically bail out with a thimble, trying to plug the now-gaping hole with a chewed wad of gum that just won't stick damnit! all in less than 60 seconds.

Next on my whiney-complainer list, are the plans some friends and I have been trying to make for weeks. It's been years since some of us have seen each other and we'd like very much to correct that. As such, we're supposed to get together tomorrow. The problem is, we don't actually have anything truly decided. We seem to be planning on meeting at my friend's house, going to the Roger Williams Zoo for their pumpkin fest type celebration, then hitting Providence hard with alcohol and funky-awesome dancing. But we haven't agreed on a time. I also had made a suggestion of filling the day beforehand with some festive fall activities: apple picking, pumpkin getting, baked goods baking, and pumpkin carving, but no one actually ever responded to it. Just ignored it, saying "I don't care what we do as long as we see each other!" and commenting on the cruelty of zoo's keeping wild animals in cages. Yes, I am nit-picky, but even a nice "Yeah, Sarah, that idea kinda sucks..." would've been better than them completely ignoring that I ever mentioned anything at all.

And what proves to me all the more I am a homebodied-cranky-pants, is that this indecision made me want to ignore them and just spend Saturday at home. I know, I'm not sure how I retain any friends either.

I like having plans, though. I like having things set in stone. I don't like it being the day before we're supposed to gather and having no idea what we're actually doing. I guess I'm not much of a wing-it person.

Oh, and I have no money. So the other part of all this is going out to dinner. Dinner, 12$ for the pumpkin spectacular, then potential cover charges and drinks, and, of course, pitching in dinero for parking and gas = an expensive night. Especially when all I really want to do is see my friends, not scream at them over loud house music.

Clearly demonstrating my completed morph into an old woman, minus the knitting and the hearing aids (though, somedays I sure could us one).

I Wish They All Could Be Massachusetts Gurls

Clearly, THIS is the song Katy Perry had meant to write. I'll totally understand if you want to re-record it with these lyrics, Katy. They're all yours. My gift to you for setting the record straight. You are welcome.

Massachusetts girls, represent!

[Snoop Dogg:]

Greetings loved ones
Let's take a journey

[Katy:]
I know a place
Where the sox are really redder
Heat, snow or rain
We are the Spirit of America
Sippin' Sam's Summer Ale
Getting sappy near the conifers
The boys
Go Baz-erkshire
You can tell they’re Big Diggin’
(on us)

You could travel the world
But nothing comes close
To the Commonwealth!
Once you tea party with us
You'll be swimmin’ in the Charles
Oooooh Oh Oooooh

Massachusetts girls
We're unforgettable
Northface coats
& Eden’s on our wrists
Sun-burnt skin
So hot
We'll cook your lobster
Oooooh Oh Oooooh

Massachusetts girls
We're undeniable
Fine, fresh, fierce
We're takin’ the T
Bay State represent
Now put your lanterns up
One if by land!
Two, two if by seeeaa!

Snow on the slopes
Walkin’ on the Freedom Trail
We freak
In my jeep
Just drivin’ down the Pike

You could travel the world
But nothing comes close
To the Commonwealth!
Once you tea party with us
You'll be headin’ down the Cape
Oooooh Oh Oooooh

Massachusetts girls
We're unforgettable
Ivy League
Our education rocks
Vineyard Vines
So fly
We'll go to Nantucket!
Oooooh Oh Oooooh

Massachusetts girls
We're undeniable
Fine, fresh, fierce
We are the Pioneers
Bay State represent
Now put your Dunkins up
Oooooh Oh Oooooh

[Snoop Dogg:]
Tone, Puritan
And ready
Turn it up cause its gettin' heavy
Revolutionary east coast
These are the girls I love the most
I mean the ones
I mean like she's the one
Kiss her
Touch her
Squeeze her buns

The girl's a freak
She drive a jeep
Down P-Town, Wor-town
I'm okay
I won't play
I love the Hub
Just like I love Fenway
Castle Island
And the Seven Gables
Summertime is everything

Homeboys
Bangin' out
All that ass
Hangin' out
Pahkin our cahs
Down in Hahvahd yahd
Just the King
And the Queeny
Katy my lady (yeah)
Lookie here baby (uh huh)
I'm all up on ya
Cuz you're representin' Massachusetts (ohhh yeahh)

[Katy:]
Massachusetts girls
We're unforgettable
Northface coats
& Eden’s on our wrists
Sun-burnt skin
So hot
We'll cook your lobster
Oooooh Oh Oooooh

Massachusetts girls
We're undeniable
Fine, fresh, fierce
We're takin’ the T
Bay State represent
Now put your lanterns up
One if by land!
Two, two if by seeeaa!

[Snoop Dogg:]
(Massachusetts, Massachusetts)
Massachusetts girls man
I really wish you all could be
Massachusetts girls
(Massachusetts)

Roommate Commandments, or Why I'll Probably Lose all My Friends

I love my roommate, don't get me wrong. But...our friendship is young and untested. It can't take knocks or punches at it's fledgling stage. And I value our friendship enough not to destroy it with my anal retentive compulsions. However, our living situation has helped me form a list of commandments my next lucky roommate will have to swear to live by before we take up co-habitation together. This code is sacred. Since I don't actually have the power to condemn souls to hell, breaking this code will incur a more worldly punishment. Perhaps hug witholding, or maybe even joke ruining. Yes. I mean business.

The Commandments:

Thou shalt do thy dishes.

Thou shalt not leave a gargantuan dish monster in the sink. It will eat our sponge. It will prevent us from fitting anything under the faucet. For instance: the coffee pot. The coffee in the morning is essential.

Thou shalt not prevent the coffee!

Thou shalt not sauce the ceiling.

If thou shouldst sauce the ceiling, thou shalt make every reasonable effort to de-sauce the ceiling.

Thou shalt not make wrongful use of the hand and dish towels. They are for the purpose of drying ones hands and wet dishes, but never the floor.

Thou shalt not dispose of trash in a non-bag-lined trash receptacle.

If thou shouldst accidentally dispose of trash in a non-bag-lined trash receptacle, thou shalt remove trash from said receptacle, acquire bag, put bag in receptacle, and re-dispose of trash.

Thou shalt dispose of recyclables properly (as available), lest Mother Nature blight you at will.

Thou shalt not consume another’s consumables without seeking proper permission first.

If thou shouldst consume another’s consumables without seeking proper permission first, thou shalt replace said consumables forthwith.

Thou shalt not leave possession piles in common areas, save as a way station, from whence they shall be moved posthaste.

Thou shalt not harbor resentment.

If thou shouldst feel resentment thou shalt speak directly to the offending party. The offender shall listen with open mind, and not take that which is said as a personal attack.

Thou shalt not personally attack another…unless it is with hugs.

Thou shalt care for thine own four-legged, two-legged, or no-legged animal charges, mammalian, reptilian, or that which has yet to be recognized by science. Failure to do so will be met with the evil eye and much scorn. Repeat offenses garner a more serious punishment, to be decided by those in residence.

There shall be no animal charges allowed with greater than four legs.

Thou shalt recognize personal hygiene and thou shalt make it a daily habit, lest ye be shunned or made a spectacle.

Thou shalt not disturb the peace, most of all in the night times, unless thou art beset by rampaging illness or elephants and require immediate assistance.

These commandments are subject to change at random will, or as new and sundry personal habits and behaviours are unearthed and recognized as unlivable. Participation may not vary. All housed under this roof, within these walls, and behind this front door shall abide by or be subject to penalties and consequences found to be of equal or greater value to original offense. These include, but are not limited to: one-sided tickle fights, and surprise dutch ovens. Termination fees and charges may apply. See your carrier for details.

This will either be the answer to all future roommate problems ever, or I will eventually loose all of my friends. Which, I guess is kind of the same thing.

What's that you say? Put a lid on it!

This weekend, my family and I were in Maine for my Aunt's wedding! It was a really beautiful ceremony (even if my mother and I did crack up hysterically while attempting to sing the hymn) and a gorgeous day! My aunt was stunning, and you could tell she and her groom were both immensely happy. We danced, we ate, we talked, we sang, we drank, we goofed- It was a great time! Congratulations to you both, Aunt and Nuncle (New-Uncle)!

Wedding Re-Cap, or what I learned during a day with my family by the sea:

• My bride-aunt knows who the Squirrel Nut Zippers are and had the DJ play one of their songs. I was pleased!
• One of my non-bride aunts was poisoned by her food. Or poison.
•  My cousin thinks I am a lesbian. This is probably due to the fact that I didn't pop out a baby as soon as uterinely possible. So, upon her inquisition, I made sure to tell her I was. She probably believed me.
• Old people are great dancers.
• Old people are less good at dancing to "Staying Alive" by the BeeGees.
• Lobster crostini are always a good idea. Unless they've been poisoned.
• Gazpacho is ga-sucky and ga-salsa.
• It is possible to do the scissor dance move in heels.
• Wedges distribute body weight more evenly over grass, and will thusly prevent high heels from sinking into the earth. To achieve the opposite effect: wear any other type of high heel.
• White boys can dance.
• If there is a wedding and I am invited, no matter where it is, there will be a motorcycle rally immediately after that will impede all traffic flow.
• And finally, love brings people together. Even family.

All You Need is Love

Well, folks, it has come and it has gone...

My friend Wife got married!! Huzzah! Wife, English, I wish you both the happiest of lives! I know you've found everything you'll ever need within each other. I love you!

I am also happy to report that it passed without incident! Well, unless you count my minor 2nd degree burn a la curling iron (it itches like hell!). I had been afraid seeing my ex-boyfriend, Voldemort, with his new girlfriend, Bellatrix Lestrange, would be hard and a bit emotional. But guess what? I was as cool as a cucumber! Nary an emotional hair stirred! Double huzzah!

I will recount all the good, the better, and the awkward as soon as I have a little bit more time on my hands. It really was a beautiful day. I have never been happier for my two friends. I am so glad I could be there to witness and be a part of their special day. They truly are the luckiest.

For Your Enjoyment: Impending Doom

Tomorrow is a very big day. It's practically obese it's so big. My beautiful, intelligent, humorous, sassy friend, Wife, is getting married!! (ed note: I call her 'Wife" not because of her upcoming nuptials, but, long story short, because I once promised to marry her on 11/11/11.)

It's a truly momentous occasion! And really flippin' weird! She'll be the first of my friends to wed. It freaks me the heck out, but only in the happiest, most supportive of ways.

This day would be immense enough on it's own, were it not for one teensy, tiny, what-were-you-thinking, the-universe-must-really-hate-me, reason. The groom, English (so called due to a certain two year old's inability to properly pronounce his name), just so happens to have a younger brother...that I may or may not have dated for five and a half months, right up until I was unceremoniously dumped...on his birthday. Needless to say, after not having to see or interact with him for a year, I am not very enthusiastic about seeing him, or his new girlfriend. But, thankfully, my dear friend India (she spent a year teaching in India. It was either that or something inappropriately referencing her rather voluptious chest) will be accompanying me to this event! Her mission, as she chose to accept it, is to keep me distracted, and put togehter at all times, by whatever means necessary. She will be my glue and I will be her popsicle stick art.

Still, it doesn't take Miss Cleo to figure out I'm in for a bumpy ride. I am sure there will be many an awkward moment, punctuated by potentially humiliating word vomit and emotional sewage.

I may have patched the leak and repaired the water damage, but even the most well-mended may break when tested by pressure for the first time after being busted. And I'm not one to call a plumber either; I'm real a DIY-er. Well, unless you count electrical tape, a wrench, piping, and caulk. They helped me more than they even know. Because...they're...inanimate objects? Uh, I fear this analogy has gone too far. It's so convluted it could even be likened to a clogged drain. Am I right, or am I right, eh? Ahem. We might need roto-rooter for this one...badum-ch!

Anyway, folks, stay tuned! Sh*t's about to get real!

Three Dog Night

I'm sure many of you know the band Three Dog Night. Did you know their band name is a temperature scale for measuring how cold it is? It's so cold, you need three dogs in the bed to keep you warm, that's how cold it is!

I was thinking about this, and whether there is a similar a measure for heat? As I was getting ready for work in the morning, sweating, despite having three fans trained directly on me (and this before it was even 8am!), it dawned on me...

Just How Hot IS it??

One Tissue Face:

Is it so hot that you could apply a tissue to the lower half of your disgustingly sweaty face and successfully pull off a bank heist in the wild, wild west? Or could you perform emergency surgery in a bus terminal taking proper sanitary precautions with your makeshift, stuck-on face mask? If you answered yes to either of these, then it's a one tissue face day!

Two Tissue Face:

Is it so unbearably hot out that you could apply TWO tissues to your face and successfully complete a move to Iran without being stoned? Or could you go to a costume party as a mental patient peering out of their door's rectangular observation window from their padded room? If you answered yes to either of these, it's a two tissue face day today! Ooo-wee! Now that's toasty, people!

Variation:

One Tissue Face Variation:

Is it so hot out that you can slap a tissue to your forehead and travel to the nearest school cafeteria and, with no formal training, still be following health regulations by covering your hair? Then it is again a one tissue face day!! And can I get a yay for being sanitary AND resourceful? Yay! I bet McGuyver never thought of this!

Thanks, But No Thanks: Why I Won't Have Children.

People always seem to be amazed when they find out that I do not want children. Hell, that I don't even like children.

I don't really see why this is so surprising. It's no secret that I don't like people either. But at least most people are capable of using a toilet and maintaining their own personal hygeine. Even pets, who are arguably just as needy as children, if not moreso, lick themselves clean! I like that kind of self reliance in a mammal.

I am sure, to many, not having children is a selfish decision. To them I say: wah, wah, wah! Cry about it, already.

I like my independence, and I am very aware that once you procreate, you lose your independence. You know those De Beers advertisements? "A diamond is forever"? Well, for starters, they clearly haven't been informed that divorce is legal, but this famous line lends itself well to what really is forever. Children. Children are forever. Screaming, theiving, pooping children! Forever!

I'm not hugely into forever. I like options. I like freedom. I like my me time, my down time, my free time, my do-whatever-you-please time. I like time. I like me. I like me having time. A child would take away my time, and in many ways, my 'me.' My past experiences with people encroaching on either of those things, is not unlike those weird, spongey animals in little capsules you put in glasses of water that grow 1000x their original size. Except instead of little spongey animal capsules, it's resentment. And, unlike the little spongey animal capsules, you can't throw it out when it's finished growing and gets all slimey and covered in human hair and animal fur. So, nay sayers, do you really think it's fair to raise a child in an atmosphere of resentment and animal fur? No. I know you don't. Though, since you're nay sayers, I am sure you continue to nay say anyway.

But I am clearly doing my unfertilized egg children a favor.

Wait, though! There are more reasons I chose to not conceive and produce tiny little crying, peeing me's:

1. Pregnancy.
Seriously, who came up with this idea? Why couldn't we be more like fish? The female fishes produce eggs outside their bodies and the men folk just sort of spray the area with their gametes, fertilizing the eggs all willy-nilly like.This sounds like a good deal to me. As it is, being pregnant for nine, yes, nine whole months, while something feeds off your body, growing inside of you...well, it freaks me out! What's that you say? Creating life is a magical experience? No. It's pasaritism, is what it is. I understand we as a species need to procreate to ensure our presence on earth, but you can count me out. Pregnancy reminds me of that Korn video with the whatever-the-heck-it-was crawling under everyone's skin. That's not even that much of an exaggeration of how I feel.

2. Birth.
The ripping, and the bleeding, and tearing, and the cutting, and the screaming, and the paining, and the potential-hip-breaking, and the whoo-ha-out-for-the-world-of-doctors-and-nurses-to-be-seeing, and the pushing, and the breathing, and the WHOLE birthing-doing is just not high up on my to-do list. In fact, it isn't even on it at all. It's actually on my "Never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever do this EVER" list. Right along with sticking my hand in a bonfire and playing catch with a bee's nest.

3. Excremement
How do thy excrete? Let me count the ways! Poo, spit, spit-up, vomit, snot streams, snot bubbles, snot sprays, more poo, poop, pee, pee, and more pee. A friend has a 2 year old, and was babysitting an infant, and, over the course of maybe 8 hours...she was peed on twice. Twice! That's more than I want to ever be peed on in my life, let alone one day. Game over.

4. Volume Control
They don't have it.

5. Listening and Comprehension Skills.
They don't have it.

6. Patience.
I don't have it.

And that is why I will never have children.

What if I change my mind, you ask? In that highly unlikely scenario, I would adopt. Because I will probably be 65, and need someone to pay for my nursing home in ten years. Hey, you always gotta plan ahead.

Hi! My Name Is:

Bull riding and Nutella

Yesterday was a very rough, emotional day.

I've only ridden a mechanical bull once in my life, and I fell off when it wasn't even moving. Then the mechanical bull operator proceeded to make fun of this strange ability of mine to be thrown off violently while motionless. It was then that I vowed to never ride a mechanical bull again, lest I be taunted a second time. That's kind of what yesterday was like, only this bull was metaphoric, and represented my emotions.

I tried hanging onto that emotional bull for dear life, riding as it bucked and kicked (do bulls buck and kick?), in a manner not unlike the flailing, limb-whip-strip dance I do when there's a spider on me. Which, holy hell, that is scary.

Anyway, I tried to stay on, had several close calls, and then, when I actually realized everything was okay (this essentially being the "motionless" moment), I fell off the damn bull. I lost my grip and the tears they did fall...while at work...sitting in my closet-office...with my male co-worker. It was pretty. Pretty awesome.

 Luckily he had his headphones in and I could stiffle my sniffles by tapping loudly on the keyboard, real official like.

So, after riding the bull all day, I was completely exhausted. I went home after work and basically spent a large amount of time doing this:

It was not one of my prouder moments, but it was one of my more delicious ones.

This actually reminds me of the book making class I took in college. For one project we had to create a book based on the theme "my tears taste like chocolate."

Clearly, my tears taste like Nutella.

A Kiss is Not a Contract

I was trolling facebook this morning, and on my newsfeed a guy friend had "liked" "10 Things Girls Should Never Say to Guys." Most were really just common sense, and if any woman says or asks any of the questions contained in the list, she kind of deserves an honest, face-punch answer.

For example, one of the questions was "Do you think she's pretty?" Guys dislike this question because they feel they can't win - say 'yes' your lady lover get's angry you found another female with a pulse and a face attractive. Don't you know she's the only female on the planet not effected by the ugly blite, which mangles the flesh of other women's faces and bodies at a catastrophic level upon your entering into a relationship with her. Uhm, duh. Pretty sure they had a special about that on 60 Minutes. Tivo it, gentlemen.

Then, if the guy says "no," she, being able to see beyond the ugly blite, can tell this woman is actually quite attractive and that you, sir, are a dirty liar. Lose, lose.

Alright, I don't know any women insecure enough to set themselves up like this, nor do I want to. But if there exists a woman, who feels the overpowering need to actually utter this ridiculous monstrosity out of her ruby lips...she deserves the verbal smack down she'll recieve when you emphatically say "Yes!" I mean, really ladies. Either you really hate yourself and like the pain, or you really like inflicting it on your man. Either way, may I suggest celibacy?

I grew curious, however, as to whether such a list exists instructing men what not to say to women.

Enter, AskMen.com.

I provide, here, their list, with my comments in parenthesis and italics. Enjoy:

Top 10: Things You Should Never Say To A Woman
There are plenty of articles out there telling you all the things you should say, so this time we've decided to tell you when to keep your trap shut.

By David DeAngelo, Relationship Correspondent

There are a lot of great -- and terrible -- articles written on “lines” to say to a woman, but what about what not to say? It is my opinion that many mistakes can be avoided by keeping your mouth closed. So, without further ado, here are the 10 things you should never say to a woman.

Page 2: Anything bad about her guy friends

One of the ways a woman marks a guy as “insecure” the fastest is if he starts dissing her guy friends, especially if he hasn’t met them and doesn’t know her very well. Here’s the deal: Even if they are more than friends, you are only making yourself look like you are scared of competition from them, which to a woman screams “insecurity.” Best to just keep your mouth shut when they are mentioned and focus on your game instead.

(This I find to be fairly true. If you start bad mouthing the other guys she knows, especially without ever meeting them, you just look like an insecure a-hole. Resist looking like an insecure a-hole. Unless you really ARE an insecure a-hole and then please let us know ASAP so we can run away, or fake our own death immediately)

Page 3: "I'll call you Friday"

Ending a phone conversation with a “next step” is a good technique if you’re trying to sell someone something, but not when you are talking to a woman. First of all, you are killing any spontaneity by being predictable. Second, you are also killing any chances of her calling you, as she has to now wait for your call or risk looking desperate. Not good.

(I guess this is pretty true. I'm sure you fellas don't want to look desparate either, so we have a mutual understanding here, yes? But dudes, don't overthink shit either. Just act natural and if you say "I'll call you tomorrow" it's really okay, just make sure you gd call her tomorrow! For chrissake be yourself and it'll all work out fine.)

Page 4: Anything that hints at a "future"

Often when guys are hanging out with a woman for the first time and she mentions something she likes or likes to do, a guy will use that as an opportunity to hint at a future date. For example, she might say she loves Thai food, so you say, “Wow, so do I. We should go get Thai food sometime.” Stop, stop, stop, stop! While this sounds good in theory, you must remember that women not only want but need a guy who is somewhat of a “challenge.” If partway through the first date you are talking about hanging out again and again and again, she knows that you are really into her, which means the game is over and she has won. Sure, it’s nice to connect with someone when you first hang out with them, and of course you should want to do some fun activities together, but don’t let her know that she has “won you over” too quickly or you’ll come off just like every other guy she’s gone out with that is ready to “put a ring on it” after date No. 1.

(Okay, this, to me, is kind of bullshit. Maybe I'm the freak woman that isn't looking for a "challenege," but so be it. I will wave my freak flag high for all the land to see. I hate games, I do not like to be kept guessing, and hard-to-get more often than not ends up being I-don't-give-enough-of-a-shit-to-fight-to-get-the-guy-who-doesn't-seem-to-want-to-be-gotten. It's a waste of time and energy. If you like Thai food too, awesome! Tell me! And sure, say, "Let's get some sometime!" That show's interest and that we have some things in common. Two very good things. Now, it's true, don't say that after EVERYTHING we say, or you look desparate for a date, or have no personality of your own. Don't be an over-agreeable puppy. Don't be an inaccessible douche. Got it?)

Page 5: "How many guys have you slept with?"

First of all, do you really want to know? Second of all, again you are showing insecurity, especially if you ask this in the beginning. Sure, if she asks you first, go ahead. But trust me, you don’t want to be the one to start this conversation. You can only lose.

(And do NOT tell us how many women you've slept with. Isn't this just common sense, though? And don't mention you exes, either. It'll send we-who-think-too-much into a self-doubt spiral and you will come out as the dude still in love with ex, or at least, like an a-hole again.)

Page 6: "I left you a message the other day, but didn’t hear back. What happened?"

This might be the most common mistake guys make after not hearing back from a woman, and while it sounds trivial, it is a big one. It took me a long time to figure out what to do when a woman didn’t return one of my messages, but I finally figured out it’s best to just ignore it and proceed as if it never happened. If you mention an un-returned message to a woman you are doing two things: 1. Showing that you care that she didn’t return it. (Hint: If you just met a woman it is too soon to care!); and 2. Giving her a guilt trip, which women see as insecurity.

(It's too soon to care that MUCH. Caring is good. Caring too much is bad. Stage 5 clinger. Unhealthy possessive and potentially obsessive. You will be extricated from her life faster than yesterday's garbage. Just sayin'.)

Page 7: "Do you like me?"

If I had to pick out a single phrase that shuts a woman’s attraction switch off permanently, this is it. Asking a woman a question like this is the opposite of being confident. So don’t ask, just assume she likes you, and go from there. I mean, hey, who wouldn’t?

(Alright. I didn't want to say it, but, this is somewhat true. Asking "Do you like me?" makes you sound like a woman. And insecure woman. Which reminds me again of "playing hard to get." That's a stupid game, because you don't show each other enough that you DO like each other, so both parties are left guessing. Who wants to have to guess? Show it, or you blow it. And guys, it's okay to wonder sometimes, us girls do too. But maybe...just don't verbalize it. Unless you don't know it because your lady is withholding and cold. Then, may I suggest getting out while the getting is good?)

Page 8: "What do you want to do tonight?"

There is a saying that a woman likes a “man with a plan,” and it is absolutely true. When you call a woman to hang out, make sure you have a game plan. Don’t put the burden on her or she won’t see you as the type of guy who can show her a good time.

(This I mostly disagree with. At times, yes, we want YOU to plan something, we want YOU to tell us what YOU would like to do. But we don't want to never be asked wither. We have an opinion, and if you never ask, and always tell, we will assume you're a nutty control freak and that is very unattractive. From experience, I hate it when a guy always makes me plan everything and never plans or suggests anything himself. It's gotta go both ways, or it's going to end up going nowhere)

Page 9: Anything about your car, job or house that sounds like you are trying to impress her

Do you know what kind of guys brag about their cars, jobs and houses to women? Well, the truth is a lot of different kinds of guys, but women put them all in one category: guys who have nothing else to offer. I’m serious, ask any attractive woman about this and she’ll agree. Sure, you may attract some women, but even those women will be far more impressed by your material possessions if you don't mention them in conversation.

(This is true. It's like you have nothing else to offer, are over-compensating, or are going to love all your little gadgets more than us. And we don't like that.)

Page 10: "Can I take you out on a date sometime?"

Similar to No. 1, a woman wants to be with a man who is a leader and in control, not someone who asks her permission to hit on her. Don’t ever ask a woman if you can take her out, just ask her out. But do it in a confident way. It can be as simple as saying, “We should hang out. What’s your number?” Or even telling her a specific place you want to take her: “Hey, let’s take a salsa lesson together, it will be fun!’

(This actually isn't that bad, guys. Yes, being confident and saying something like "I'd like to take you out sometime..." is good, asking isn't the end of the road. It shows you're respectful, not pushy, bossy, or an over-confident, self entitled prick. And nobody wants to be one of those.)

Page 11: "Can I kiss you?"

Ask any woman and she will tell you; a man should never “ask” for a kiss. Asking for a kiss goes against everything a woman is looking for in a man. You may as well just tell her right there that you are a boy. Her answer might be “yes” if she's being polite, but her attraction meter on the inside will read a firm, “no!”

(Again, this is respectful. Especially if it's a first date. This shows you recognize we're ladies, not five dollar hookers, that we have boundaries, and that you, respecting us, won't cross them. When you are in a full fleged relationship, or it's the second date and you were allowed to kiss her on the first date, I am going to go ahead and say it's safe to assume that, unless the second date was the most horrible experience either of you have ever been through in your entire lives and you set her hair on fire, you can probably kiss her.)

Smell the Coffee

My friend, who for the purpose of this blog will be referred to as "India," and I were discussing our futures.Well, we weren't, until I revealed that I have come to the conclusion that all I really want is to work for myself and be my own boss. She informed me she agrees, and would like to own a coffee shop/lending library/advice hut. Besides the last two thirds of her dream business, I have always romanticized owning such an establishment myself. Someplace I would enjoy spending my days in, drinking coffee on dangerously comfortable pieces of furniture, worlds away inside an exciting page-turner, just...relaxed.

Of course I understand there is a reality behind this vision of freedom. Like, you know, actually haveing to work there, and not just sit and relax. I would have to deal with customers, pleasant and unpleasant, clean, run around frantically filling orders, and be up veeerry early in the morning. Even if there were others employed at my Cafe Libertà, they could always call in sick, or just be generally lazy and unhelpful. Especially just starting off...to start something like this and push to see it through...it takes real dedication. And while I love fantasizing about it, it's hard to say if it's really anything beyond a romantic dream. I don't know if it's a passion, a drive, a need-to-got-to-can't-live-without-you vision.

I sure can picture it though. Sigh.

Plus, neither India nor I are any good at math. So it'd be hard to get it started when we are not skilled in the money-handling-counting-out-finance-doing. Maybe we'd get a third partner? Nah - three's unstable. And a crowd...but also company? Huh...

Whoomp there it is!

Forget my last post. Who needs a real job when I can jump on the stupid-sching-people-will-buy bandwagon!

My dear friend was kind enough to introduce me to these beauties...

Before:                                                 

After:

What are these, you ask? Oh, well, they're crotch shots of ladies...well, crotches! Let's play a game, shall we? I recall something of the sort from Highlights magazine and Sesame Street. Can you find the one difference between these two photos? Look closely...that's it...yep, you're getting warmer...aha! You got it! The disappearing camel toe! Viola! And all thanks to Camelflage panties!

Sigh. Let's be honest, I cringe as much as the next person when I am visually assaulted by public C-toe, but honestly? Is it too much to ask that maybe, maybe people just start wearing pants that fit and aren't three sizes too small? Oh, wait, what's that? It is too much to ask? Well, pardon me!

This isn't the only underwear offender. The padded panties, or rump rounders (as I like to call them), are ridiculous inventions that I almost can't believe ever were invented at all:

I don't think this is what Sir Mix-a-lot had in mind...

These are two prime examples of, well junk. One puts more junk in your trunk, and the other helps you pretend that you don't actually have any junk at all. So, it seems to me, that if I can just come up with some new and improved take on junk, I could make my fortune!

Hmm, it seems the ladies are covered (for now!).Perhaps something for the gents? What about all those plumbers who are fit and trim, and own belts? They must be mocked by others in their profession for lacking crack. Maybe, for these fanny shy lads, I could make Y-backs instead of Y-fronts! Genius!

Tada!

I sense a hit here, folks! Wealth and fortune, here I come!

Piece by puzzling piece

I think I am slowly hatching a plan. This is not just any plan, mind you. This is a LIFE plan. I know, I never thought I'd see the day either! Oh, excitement, it is upon us!

I do realize this "life plan" isn't a "forever" plan. I remember seeing that Nia Vardalos movie, My Life in Ruins, and the hott Greek man saying something like, "Life plan? How do you plan for life?" Very valid point, Mr. Hott-Greek-Man. I commend you. How do you plan for life?

Life is constantly changing, and so am I. What I choose to do now with my life may change, even before I begin to realize it myself. Which generally seems to be the case. I think we all are a little behind the curve of life's changes. But, still, my essential attack plan for my recent-future is as follows: take courses in journalism/photography at a local state school to see if it's a true interest of mine, and then, potentially, move on to grad school...or new classes to test my next big interest.

Yes, it is somewhat vague and open, but I hate being tied down. I refuse to jump into grad school, an expenisve undertaking for sure (I think at this point paying in a pound of my own flesh would be cheaper and actually easier), when I am just not sure that this is, definitively, what I want to do with my recent-future life. It's perposterous to me that some people have knowingly done so, even in their self-understood uncertainty. Yes, the job market is like the proverbial hay stack and finding an actual, fulfilling job is the needle. I understand the terror in that. College was supposed to prepare us for the "real world," and make us attractive potential-employees. As I recall it, pre-college, I thought upon completing my degree there'd fist fights and businesses competing fervently over who wanted to hire me.

Alright...that was a bit overstated and completely dramatic, but essentially, I thought it'd be a breeze when it's almost exactly the opposite. It's people fighting for the jobs, and many that have been laid off are applying for and winning whatever low-rung jobs are actually available because they are way over-qualified for the positions. Luckily for me I had been temping on-and-off for a company that took me back under their protective wing once I graduated. I am faced, however, with the possibility of losing my cushy, if not mind-numbing, temporary position if the company is bought out, which is likely. Right now the company is on the chopping block, and, in favor of keeping the head and company jewels, we're about to lose some limbs. So the bleak outlook is not lost on me. Though, as I mentioned, I am not going to go to grad school as my last, extremely expensive, resort.

I am kind of excited, though! And nervous as hell. Money is tight. I've never been much of an over-achiever, and getting a part-time job for more money makes me squirm. Do not get me wrong, I am all about doing a job and doing it the best it can be done! However, I do not sacrifice my down time...a job is a job, it is not a life. I need my down time to keep my sanity. So a second job really is the last of the last resorts for me. Heck, I will "donate" (is it really donating if they pay you?) my eggs before I have to have another job on top of my 40 hour work week!

I understand photojournalism, if I do find this is what I want to do/pursue, isn't necessarily a big bread winner, especially just starting out. But I do love/miss taking photos, and despite my horrible grammar and spelling, oh, an lack of structure, I do enjoy writing too. Of course I have lofty dreams of success and being more of a travel photographer, going wherever I want, whenever I want, photographing what I see and what I experience. This is pretty unrealistic, and I know that. But shootin' high's better than not shootin' at all.

And, uh, if you're reading this and work for the Travel Channel, call me...

It could always be worse...

There are certain times in your life that are a bit more tumultuous than others. I have been blessed with such a time at just this very moment...err, timespan...

As it happens, just last week I broke up with my boyfriend. All around, this was a good choice. I hadn't been really happy for the duration of our, albeit short-lived, relationship. I never truly was myself because I felt like he did not and would not like the real me. I had already found he felt me to be too "goofy," which is unfortunate, because it is true. Well, it's true in that I am the biggest goofball you may ever happen to meet, but not true in that I do not think it is even slightly possible to be "too goofy." If Goldilocks were looking for a goof, I would be her "just right!"

This, essentially, is why I had to end our relationship. I do feel bad if I cause him any sort of upset, but a girl's gotta look out for her best interest, and by gove, I know I did!
However, he has not made it very easy. With continued contact, and sob stories (a.k.a. excuses), detailing that he 'isn't always like this,' it has been very emotional. I do know I did what was best, but that doesn't really make it any easier.

Then, when driving home this past, most beautiful, Friday...my timing belt broke in my car...at an exceedingly busy stop light. Thank goodness a random stranger stopped and helped me move my car safely to the side of the road (i.e. he did it for me)! Now I am car-less, and staying with my parents so I can still somehow get to and from work. It is essential that I successfully generate a pay check, so that I may pay my mechanic for fixing this beast. Who needs to eat anyway? Am I right, or am I right?

THEN, as I am now staying at my parents, I took the opportunity to launder my filthy clothing. I had, I will point out, been missing my Ipod for several days...despite this I neglected, even after hearing my mothers voice inside my head to "always check your pockets before doing laundry," to look and empty out the contents of any and all of my pockets...as such I laundered not only my clothing (for free!) but also my recently-lost-but-now-found Ipod (for free!).

I had, ahem, what one may call a bit of a, well, just a tiny little, insignificant break down. The floodgates opened and I cried, and I cried, and it was, I must say, a wonderful realease. I think I may have to investigating doing this more often...

It didn't help that I had just paid rent either. The impending doom of absolutely-not-even-remotely-inexpensive car repairs had me on edge, but then putting absolutely-not-even-remotely-inexpensive technological equipment through the ringer and probably (though I am still holding out hope of survival) killing it dead, and having a recently diminished bank account on top of it all, just sort of...piled up, like the excremental situations they truly are.

This all reminds me of how I kicked off this year...I spent New Years Eve with two friends in NY ou at a local bar. After we rang in the new year with style, class, and chicken wings, we were more than ready to head back to our hotel room. However...we tried calling for a cab, and were told it would be at LEAST an hour until one was able to respond to us. We had a bit of a cab debacle when trying to get our party started initially that evening, and we were afraid such cab treachery (some people stole our cab!) would happen again, and we were not in the mood. We had heard about the 'Alert Cab' program, and seen signs in the bar/club/saloon we were in, telling us to ask our bartenders about the program (which was a free cab for those people who had been drinking, and wanted to make the responsible decision NOT to drive home!). However, our bartenders had NO idea what we were talking about, despite the signs plastered all over their establishment. Harrumph.

Despite our better judgement, we set out on our journey! In the snow. Nay, in heels in the snow! And we walked the mile, uphill, to our hotel. We were exhausted (understandably) and made this our motto: It could always be worse! We decided that if we could make it through that, then we could handle whatever the rest of the year had to throw at us...

So, after the emotional rollercoaster ride gone rogue that I've had the misfortune of being strapped securely into the last 2.5 months, I am, of course, reminded of our motto. And it sure could be worse. But remember universe, that's just a saying, it is not, in fact, an invitation...

The Not So Very Rigid Search

Things haven't been moving very quickly in my job hunt. There isn't much out there of any interest, and I have been presented with the possibility of moving out of my parent's home and into an apartment with my friend. This requires that I remain gainfully employed. I would like to take advantage of this opportunity, so for now, I will remain working...exactly where I am now. If they keep me on...

I will continue my search (you never know when you'll find a gem!!), though less rigidly (if anyone here's a fan of Everything is Illuminated, you will appreciate that reference).

I will also keep trying to figure out where I want this, my life, to go. I feel, though, like that's a given. My mother is 50-something and still trying to figure that out. We're always changing, so the answer to that question is always changing. And I'll keep writing here to let you know where each change is bringing me.

Right now, it's bringing me closer to the end of the work day on an over-cast Friday afternoon.Ah, sweet weekend freedom, I can taste you already!

"So I guess this is growing up."

I'm trying to buckle myself down and really dig. Dig for what I think will make me happy, dig for information, dig for job opportunities, dig, dig, dig. What I've unearthed from all this digging equals about the effort I've been putting into it in the first place, which isn't a lot.

I feel like I'm the press calling the law office of a lawyer that put away an innocent man, asking for comments. I'm really good at avoiding myself. I think I feel that if I'm questiong myself so deeply, probing my insides for what makes me tick, and what will truly make me feel satisfied in a job, that were I to come up with no answers...I would be at a complete and utter loss. So, clearly, it's better to avoid the whole issue, no answer is no answer, and this no answer makes me feel better than once coming after an intensive, self-inflicted, third degree.

What I know:

I hate phones.
I do much better with hands-on, creative work
I. do. not. do. well. with. stress.
I like flexibitlity in schedules.
I hate cubicles.
I want a job where I have nights and weekends off (unless it's some sort of fun social event/travelling).
I don't like working with the elderly (and the jury's still out on kids).
I like working behind-the-scenes.
I like fashion.
I like art.
I like clothes.
I like taking pictures.
I like shows.
I like working with my hands.
I like people.

To me, this all sort of points to theatre, fashion, and photography (and to some degree jewelry making). Any of which should land me back in school. But...I don't know I mentioned this already, but I really don't feel ready to jump back into the educational system again. Not yet, at least. So, what to do, what to do...

I arrive back at my most recent option: moving to Maine. I suppose staying in my current job is also an option, but I'd nearly rather pluck my eyes out of my skull, than stay here for another year or more til I'm "ready" to re-educate myself. I have always hated babysitting, and, more or less, that's what substitute teaching is. Glorified babysitting. Do-able for sure, but enjoyable? It would be nice to get away from home. And I love my aunt. I love her menagerie of animals, the mountains of books that cover her entire house. I think, more than the fear of not liking subbing, the fear of being int he middle of nowhere, the fear of making less money and still having those looming, leering loans hanging dangerously above me, more than anything, I'm afraid of leaving my mother.

I know. That probably sounds ridiculous. But quite honestly she is my best friend. We laugh, talk, she helps keep me calm and sane, and I really don't want to leave her. I don't know what to do without her. I know I did it in college, so I don't know what the problem is now. Maybe I am not sure what she'll so without me. Again, she did it when I was in college, so I don't know why I am now so concerned. What can I say? I love my mumma, and I know I'll miss her something awful.
You know, I never realized what a mama's girl I am. Yeesh!

Maybe I should talk to her about it. I don't know. I really don't know what to do. Do I really want this, or is it just that I want to leave my current job so badly? Do I not want to do this, or am I just afraid of leaving my home, my mother, and, essentially, growing up?


Sigh. No one said this would be easy...