Forever After

I remember when I was young thinking that when you get older and get married and all that adult stuff that's when all the relationship drama and bullshit came to an end.  Then as I got older I realized that sometimes people get married because they are older and think it is time to commit and settle and start a family.  And sometimes consenting adults get married because they are in love and can't imagine life without one another.  Then expectedly or unexpectedly life takes a turn or simply goes on and 2 individuals who were once so perfectly made for each other no longer are. 

A couple very dear to me has taken this turn.  It breaks my heart not only for them but for married couples everywhere.  Marriage sometimes is like nosediving into the unknown.  It's like the 17 year old high school boy that decides his fate by declaring a college major before his balls have fully dropped.  Commitment is a terrifying thing and I can see why so many people are terrified of it. Individuals can't predict which way their partner will grow. We can't even predict which way we'll grow.  I am not entirely sure where I am going with this.  Just random thoughts as I just celebrated my1st wedding anniversary as a couple very dear to me is going through a divorce. I guess like everything in life you take your chances on what you believe in and the course of life makes it happen or not. 

Yanks

I am officially a Yankees fan.  I wasn't always but now I am. Raised a Jersey girl, I've always had a fondness for the Yanks.  But I'll be honest I never really understood the insane passion that went into being a fan.  The kind of dedication that leads someone to tattoo their team's logo onto their flesh or buy everything from magnets to socks to beer cozies representing their team.  I was the kind of fan that said the day after the big game, "Did they win?  Awesome!". Yes that was me.

Then 4 years ago I met the biggest Yankees fan I've ever met.  My husband and his family bleed blue.  First he bought me the jersey. Naturally the hat followed.  I didn't really think it was my look but what the heck.  He just had to remind me when they were playing.

Last week, I think game 3, my hubby went to a local sports bar to check out the game.  After running some errands I decided to join him.  What began as a solo event grew into a table of 5.  Tammy noticed there were five parties of 1 each with their solo cheering section. One by one she gathered the guys.  Everyone was for it because let's face it, Mariner's fans hate the Yanks.  Jose was among the group and he had unofficially created the NW Yankee fan group.  His group went to games together and gathered at local pubs for the ones they had to miss.  

Game 4.  My husband was out of town and I went to represent for this party of 2.  The group I met along with a few others that found us had grown.  We drank, we cheered, we chanted.  I left early for Halloween 2009 (see earlier post).

Game 5.  I get to the pub to meet my peeps in the back room we've now reserved as private.  We hug, we high 5. My husband is stuck in an airport and we all talk about how much it sucks.  We drink, we cheer, we chant, we cry.  We're ok because game 6 will be home and my husband can watch them win.

Game 6.  My husband is back.  Our group has tripled in size.  I don't know 1/2 these people but eff it.  We're all buddies.  We're all wearing blue and we're all chanting the same chants.  Then we get annoying and start chanting everything to the "Let's go Yankees" 4 syllable chant.  The bar hates us.  Shit.  I'm a fan and I find us annoying.  "KA ATE HUD SON!"  "KA ATE HUD SON!" every time A-Rod does something awesome.  We talk about what part of Jersey or New York we're from.  We talk about work, kids, nothing.  

So now I'm a fan whether for the right or wrong reasons.  I love the Yanks.  There's a camaraderie among fans that I finally get. It is awesome.  I look forward to next season when I can remind my husband to put on his jersey. 

Halloween 2009

I had the most bizarre night that I almost don't know how to articulate.  But I will try.  

My husband is out of town this weekend so I decided to go ahead and plan something fun for Halloween.  Recently I made a new friend, I'll call her Tube Top.  TT is my neighbor and we met about 2 months ago.  She is the kind of person that will drink with you until you pass out and take you out for Bloody Mary's on her tab as soon as you come to.  She's spontaneous and has an unending supply of energy that comes from god-knows-where.  She doesn't work and is supported by her wealthy father who supposedly doesn't know she isn't working or has a suspended license for her DUI.  I met her parents and it's true.  So TT is a character.  She is also the kind of person that is so well guarded that I think even she doesn't know who she is.  I call her friend but she is an acquaintance at best.  I know she doesn't know this because one day she said to me, "You don't have many girlfriends do you?  I mean no offense."  None taken because I have a ton and none of them will ever meet her.

A few weeks ago Tube Top asked me if I wanted to go to a swanky Halloween party with her at the W Hotel. A classy joint for sure and an eye out for plans why would I refuse?  Not wanting to spend any money on a costume I borrowed a risque referee costume she had stuffed in the corner of her bottom drawer.  The party started at 8:30. She arrived after midnight.

When I got to her place at 9:30 she didn't have a stitch of makeup on and was waiting on another friend to arrive.  After 1/2 hour I decided to meet up and go ahead with another group of friend's that TT had recruited for this party.  

The party was something.  As something as a party would be in the massive ballroom of a 5 star hotel with over 800 people dressed up in their holiday best.  Awesome that I went.  I will never do it again.  

I know Tube Top arrived with her equally awesome acquaintance in tow.  We saw them before they left after staying for about 1/2 hr.  I went out for a quick smoke, got a text from TT who wound up at out Divers, our local favorite bar.  Already several drinks deep and drunk I spotted a cab on this hectic night and hopped in to join them.  

When we got back to our building she offered to walk my dog.  I gave her my keys and passed out on her bed.  Upon her arrival I decided it was time to go.  My keys were no where to be found.  I'll tell you there are no words that can express how annoying 3 drunk people in a studio trying to figure out what happened to lost keys can be.  Tube Top obviously got into my apartment to get my dog.  She swore on her life she gave the keys back to me which was impossible because I was in bed.  TT's friend chimed in and told me I had them because she walked my dog.  Exactly.  It made no sense.  So I gave up and curled up in a fetal position on an oversized chair in her studio.  TT cranked up the music at 3 am.  Another friend shows up at 4.  TT decides she wants to get more drunk.  It's loud and I decide that I need to make like I'm knocked out in a theater with surround sound in order to keep it all together.  I go to pee.  I see my reflection and I look like a cheap hooker out of hell.  

I'm staring at the clock, only 3 more hours to go before the office opens and they can let me back home.  Wait.  Today is Daylight Savings Time.  Fuck me.  

To top this all off I'm dog sitting my friend's dog this weekend.  I have the keys to his apartment.  I know this because TT and her friend keep reminding me that I do in fact have my keys as they point to not-my-keys repeatedly throughout the night.  9 am and 1 hour to go.  Wait, make that 2.  I go to my friend's to walk his dog and pass out on his couch.  Why didn't I do this 6 hours ago?

Six hours have passed and I am still in a daze from last night's events.  I look in mirror before hopping into the shower to wash off the day old washed up hooker look.  I decide it's not a good look for me. 

Pissed

I am pissed.  My dad just left me a voicemail telling me that him and mom are going to Maine next week.  Last year was worse when they told me they were going to San Francisco "because why not?!" I'll tell you why not.  What about because your daughter moved to Seattle over 3 years ago and you've never visited.  At 1st it was because my boyfriend and I were living in sin.  I get that.  Now that we're married there is no reason!  None!  So when you tell me that you're traveling to this that and the other thing it hurts.  It hurts when I see that my one friend Maria's parents have visited her so many times since she's moved from Wisconsin that she's literally lost count.  It angers me when my husband's dad has been out here twice and his parents came together once they had enough money saved to visit both sons on the west coast. 

I get that my parents aren't the warm fuzzy type and we can go weeks without speaking on the phone.  That's just how we are.  But I've told them I wanted them to see my beautiful city.  I invited them several times to my home.

So I am sincerely hurt.  It's raining and I have to meet my friends for a birthday celebration.  So thanks for letting me vent.

Ode to PNN

It's amazing how some of the seemingly mundane choices we make impact our lives.  This summer I joined PNN for all the wrong reasons; in quest for money.  Not only did it become a forum and sounding board for my most random thoughts, it became therapeutic. Soon after I started writing for another blog that I did get paid for but it lacked the compassion and sincerity that I dedicated here.  

This afternoon fellow PNNer Hali offered to pick me up to meet PNNer Carm for dinner.  Since moving to Seattle I developed an anxiety towards driving which I can discuss at another time.  I graciously accepted her offer.  Hali drives stick.  I am impressed.  She conquered her 1st major hill at a stop with me in the car.  She is my inspiration. Not only did she pick up and move across the country with nothing but a pocketful of hope, but she's kicking ass at it.

Carm lives in the most charming house built at the turn of the century with something new to be discovered in every room.  Her and her groom have a penchant for decking their house out for Halloween. It's an inviting and inspiring feeling.  She gives me a glimpse of the life I would want if I were still a suburban gal; the house, the 2 beautiful daughters complete with backyard and wheel barrow.  The only thing missing was the white picket fence which is only a Home Depot trip away.

I think about the people we meet here and the stories that will never be written about.  I have made some amazing friends here on PNN. We are a forum of wonderful and varied people.  

It's amazing how some of the seemingly mundane choices we make impact our lives.

For All Intents & Purposes

For all intents and purposes I just need to put it out there that for years I thought this phrase was, "for all intensive purposes". 

It was a Friday sometime last summer.  A friend of my husband and I came to visit from PA.  Brilliant man, he's the head of the calculus department at a prestigious private high school in Manhattan.  He told us the very same story I stated above.  A look of confusion came over my face as I said, "So it's not for all intensive purposes?". It was not.  I, like him, thought if it's a serious enough point you're trying to make then it is in fact intense.  Although that wasn't the case.

Last night I repeated that very story to my friend Maria.  On that note I told her that my friend Brian was devastated when he learned well into his 30's that a pony doesn't grow up to become a horse but in fact an adult pony.  I look up to see poor Maria with that familiar confused look. She just found out.  "So what are baby horses called?".  I didn't know. 

Lastly I recall finding out that a wheel barrow is not a wheel barrel. Hey, in my defense I never saw the thing written out so as far as I was concerned it sounded like a wheel barrel therefore it was.  So I wonder what else it is I am saying incorrectly.   But for all intents and purposes I get by.

In case you were wondering.  It's a foal.

Oxymoron

I am an oxymoron.  I always have been and I'm not quite sure how this happened to me.  Although I am well aware that a proper portion of meat is equivalent to a deck of cards I'll do things like have an entire T-bone steak for dinner complete with garlic mashed potatoes and vegetables with 2 glasses of wine.  Then I'll head over to the local bar for a vodka soda and a few shots of something tasty.  The very next day I'll start my day with 2 eggs and black coffee, run 5 miles and have 2 more high protein meals more appropriate to my size than yesterday's meal.

I have the occasional cigarette when I drink but sometimes I drink more than twice a week and "occasional" becomes anything but.  I'm also at the gym approximately 5 times a week and pretty religious about cardio and weights.  Then I'll get a hankering for a neon meal like a bag of Cheetos and a Mountain Dew.  But I'll bet your last dollar that I will happily snack on raw almonds and light yogurt the rest of the week and feast on grilled chicken, tofu and steamed vegetables and do it all with a smile.  

It's like I have that little devil sitting on my left shoulder.  You know, the one that's always on TV next to his angel counterpart on the right shoulder.  Only I think I have a demon sitting atop each wing on my back.

Commador 64

I got a new computer last Saturday.  I'm 30ish-ish and I've never ever owned my own computer.  Since dad got the ol' Commador 64 back in '83 I think, he's been my computer source (dad that is, not the Commador).  Then thankfully my boyfriend turned fiance turned husband had one too.  Then it got sick.  It got a virus and that was that.  From that point on I wanted a MAC.  And I gots me a fucking MAC.  Now I feel all growns up and stuff.  I turned to my husband as I handed over my AMEX to the mac guy and said, "Hon this is the 1st time I'm dropping over a grand on something that's NOT a pocketbook!"  Oh gosh I thought that was funny.  Him, not so much.

Oh how I've missed you PNN.  It's been a long time and I've noticed it's been like that for some of the old crew.  I'm looking forward to writing again.  I've really missed it and I've really missed the interaction and feedback.  

I think part of why I stopped writing too is because a lot my friends became followers and I noticed guards being put up.  How do I talk about Jane's idiotic choices when Jane tells me she's been following my blog?  A blessing and a curse but I love that you guys visit and I hope you continue to.  I'll share the stories as they come and I look forward to it.

It's been a long trip but it's good to be home!  

Funktified and it Sucks

Have you ever had one of those days where you're in a terrible funk and you can't quite put your finger on what it is that's troubling you?  I'm having one of those days.

My computer has had a virus for about 3 weeks now and I've been relegated to using our apartment's common area computer only when available.  I want a Mac because so I'm done with PC's and dammit those frickin, 'Hi, I'm a MAC and I'm a PC' commercials are genius.  Unfortunately my husband doesn't think it's in our best interest to get a new computer at this time.  I can't imagine that my being unemployed for 8 months would have anything to do with it.  Also I hate his computer because a sugar momma he used to do got it for him before I was a twinkle in his eye.  Normally this doesn't bother me since now what's his is ours but eh.  Shitty day brings up shitty feelings.

My job is uninspiring.  I know, I know you hear shit all the time about how you're not supposed to bitch about work online because god forbid so and so sees it and blah blah blah.  Happy to be working?  Yes?  Inspired? zzzzzz.  So what is it I want to do? I don't know.  Such pressure pisses me off.

My husband works too much.  It hasn't always been like this. As a matter of fact we were amazed about the true work life balance that Seattle had to offer for the 1st couple of years.  Then after his 2nd promotion it all became a thing of the past.  Now he's gone 12-14 hours a day.  I actually miss him  I try to show support.  I don't bother him with calls, texts, emails unless it's important or something completely stupid that will make him laugh.  I don't complain about not eating dinner together anymore and just appreciate the time we share on the weekends.  Then last night I got drunk and all the reservations I had came spewing out of my mouth in some incoherent bitchy babble.  Surprisingly nothing good came out of it and I washed down a sleeping pill with some PBR to finish the night already.  As soon as I opened my eyes this morning I was like, "Oh WTF did I do that for?".  I immediately apologized and he understood.  We had our eggs and coffee and parted ways for the day.

So here I am funky and sad eyed in the common area wanting the last days of Seattle summer sun to perk me up.  Poof!  I wish.

Seattle Shakedown - Version 1

Last Saturday I had the pleasure of meeting Carm and Jessicalee.  I have to admit I was a little nervous as I had NO IDEA what to expect.  Actually, I think I expected a pseudo bachelorette party with like 10 vaguely familiar heads/names all sporting tiaras or boas if not both.  Surprisingly I was greeted by a tame party of 3 - Carm, her hubby and Jessica.  They're like, "You made it!  Looks like it's just us."  I was like, "What about all those people that were fired up for the Tacoma Takedown/Seattle Shakedown"?!  I was sorely disappointed I think more so than the other 2 because nothing irks me more than people canceling last minute.  Especially when people travel for said event.  I suppose I should have known based on the non responses to Carm's Seattle Shakedown post.  That said, it is what it is and it was what we made of it.

Surprisingly Carm looked nothing like a ladybug but she was as sweet as I imagined her to be.  She was drinking something pink.  Jessica IS her avitar.  Only a bigger version and equally sweet as pie.  She was drinking something blue.  Carm's hubby has the heart of a saint for tolorating as much estrogen as he did that night because the estrogen levels simply multiplied as the night went on.

Jess' friend "V" joined us shortly after I order something clear.  She is awesome with awesome energy and a black eye and we automatically click.  Later their other friend joins (dear god I can't remember her name).  I call her nipples for the rest of the night because they spoke to me and made quite an impression.  An appetizer and few cocktails in, I invite my girlfriend to join since her evening plans ended early.  We all head on over to Chopstix.

Chopstix is a dueling piano bar that Jess and Mr. W have been to.  The food looked good, the crowd looked better and the energy was amazing.  There were also 5000 bachelorette's celebrating and no sausages within an earshot - with the exception of god bless him - Carm's hubby!  Later on my hubby and our friend Brian met up to contribute to male / female ratio.  Carm gets her first shot EVER, compliments of Ms. Lee.  And everyone leaves standing.  The night comes to a close and we all hug good bye.  

Carm headed home as her and her hubby were heading to Leavenworth to celebrate their anniversary the next day.  Jess and her girls headed to Cowgirls Inc. for some serious partying.  Me and my crew headed to Divers where we met up with a few more friends.

Although the night turned out to be nothing like I expected it to be, I had fun.  It was such a pleasure to meet 2 people that share this intimate world with me and that made it special.  Thanks ladies.  The pleasure was all mine.

Keeping Disfunction Alive

Today was insane at the Treehouse.  For those of you that don't know, it's a place I volunteer at that helps foster families.  The Warehouse is a "store" where all the merchandise is free.  Now is back to school and everyone is gearing up with "new" clothes and school supplies.  I know a glimpse of what I see is just a fraction of the real number of foster families out there and I was overwhelmed. 

I continue to volunteer my time because I think it's a wonderful cause and this is a way for me to feel like I'm helping families in need.  Although I understand that unforeseeable events happen that affect families with displacement, I sometimes feel frustrated witnessing certain situations.  The situation that upset me today was when I met 3 beautiful little girls probably around the ages of 1, 4 and 7.  Their foster mom said to me, "You must see lots of grandparents come in here."  I agreed.  She said, "I was a foster child myself and now I take care of all 3 of my grandchildren."  She loved it; sweet woman, happy children (or so it seemed) and just nice people.  But how do people allow this cycle to continue?  Why have 3 children if you know damn well that you can't even take care of 1?  Didn't you learn from your mama? Oh wait...

I know I am no one to judge especially if grandma is loving life and the kids are treated well.  But I think it's a disservice to those children keeping the cycle alive.  I think it's sad that grandma didn't instill in her daughter the value of parenthood.  It angers me to think that more than likely 1 of those 3 girls, if not all of them, will take the wrong path somewhere down the road and give up their children just like mom did and just like grandma did.

Kung Pow Pho Chili

Yesterday I brought my lunch to work as I do on most days as I am not rich just yet.  I had leftover homemade chili in one of those awesome plastic take home containers most Asian restaurants offer.

Erik walked in and is all, "Mmmm.  Thai."  I'm like "No, not really just chili."  Then he goes on about how he just had Thai the other night and take home was in the exact same container. 

Carrie walked in and is all, "Mmmm.  I smell Chinese." I'm like "No, not really I'm Filipino and this is chili." 

I'm not upset I just think it's funny that people still make associations.  I mean maybe the container really threw them off or maybe my chili really smells like Chinese.  Or maybe I do. 

FB - Creating Intimacy or Distance?

A good friend of mine just gave birth to her second child yesterday.  I found out from her husband's sister's status update on Facebook.  I gasped in shock as I didn't realize 9 months had already passed.  She was a good friend.  She is a good friend.  Did my oblivion mean our friendship was past tense?  Moments later her husband posted pictures of their newest addition and my eyes welled with tears of joy for them.  Really?  It's been 9 months?

The last time I saw her was in March 2009 and her 4 month bump was barely noticeable with today's trend in flowy tops.  We no longer live in the same state and our age has lead us to "other things and busy lives".  I think we spoke once since then.  Now I'm learning about life altering events from Facebook statuses.

I wonder if Facebook is saving friendships or ruining them.

Yesterday my good friend had her second child, a life altering moment.  I think I appreciate the instantaneous updates that our technology allows us to experience.  At the same time it saddens me a little that such intimate moments can be transmitted and shared with just about anyone which blur the lines of intimacy for our most precious moments. 

Boobies

I love big boobs and I can't wait until the hubby and I are rich enough to buy me a pair.  Granted I was born with breasts and some even say it's proportionate to my 5'2" frame.  But B is so average and I'm ready for an upgrade.  Sure, they're cute and perky (for now) but I want round, voluptuous, decadent breasts.  I want to purchase the kind that's round and full and requires no bra.  The kind that makes men oogle and women look twice with envy.  Yeah, I want those. 

I know people that think I'm nuts.  I have friends that have gotten breast reductions.  I also have a friend that had breast implants.  So I understand both sides. I know they can cause back problems and all this stuff but maaan; what I would do to even out these hips and make my middle look smaller.  What I would do to once in my life buy a bra that doesn't require padding or "tee shirt support".  

I want to be able to turn on the TV and never say to myself again, "Damn I wish I had her tits."  I never want to come a across another Playboy and say to myself, "I want those (and YES I know they're airbrushed)."  I never want to be at the hot spot in town where all the kiddies play and say....well yeah you get the idea.

Yes, yes I know this all so superficial and shallow.  But really, so what?  I've got those moments and it's human.  When that moment starts in 7th grade and your bra size hasn't gone up since then, then sister, you know it's the real deal.  Sure I love what God has given me.  I think He's awesome for giving me my shoulders and arms.  They're surprisingly skinny and show fantastic muscle tone when I work out.  Believe it or not I'm pretty ok with my ass too, rare I know.  SO you can't say I'm ungrateful.  But all the eating well and daily workouts won't make my breasts bigger.  I've tried.

So when times pick up and we recover from the months I have been unemployed, I look forward to the day I go on "vacation" to LA and come back looking refreshed and everyone I know says, "Gosh that vacation did you some good.  You look great."  I'll stand tall, stick out my sore chest with pride and give them a big fat thank you. 

Inconvenient Truth

I take the bus to work and home; it's a commute that's usually 20 minutes on a good day even during rush hour.  Yesterday evening as my bus driver was zipping through the HOV lanes past miles of traffic she said, "There's a terrible accident on the bridge.  There WILL be delays."  Sure enough the lane ended and our traffic just begun. 

The not knowing exactly where the problem is or how long you'll be in traffic is the part that can drive you out of your mind.  About an hour into our non journey a young lady needed to get off the bus.  She had to pee.  She pointed to a grocery store about 2 blocks away and said she would just hop on the next bus.  About 15 minutes later she came back onto OUR bus since we had only moved about a block or so. 

An hour and a half later, the middle aged man next to me asked if he could use my phone.  I reluctantly gave it to him so he could call his woman about being late and possibly "missing group tonight".  About a 1/2 hour after that he asked to use it again.  This time to tell his therapist there was no way he was going to make group.  Now 2 hours deep people are jumping ship as we can't even make it back onto the freeway. 

Finally 3 hours in, past the debris and clean up crews we are on our way home. 

The woman in front of me with the unkempt eyebrows starts speaking to the woman across the aisle.  She missed her 6 o'clock curfew for the women's shelter and will be spending tonight on the streets.  She talked about women getting raped.  She said, "It's not fun out there.  This city can be a crazy place."

Then I realized for all of us that missed dinner, our favorite TV show or therapy; our inconveniences aren't really inconvenient at all.

When to End a Marriage

When do you know to walk away from a marriage?  I just got off the phone with someone who is very close to me and all signs point to her ending her marriage. 

As a newlywed, I have strong feelings about doing whatever it takes to make it work.  But what do you do when 2 people grow apart in such opposite directions that no compass or GPS system can bring you back home?  How does this happen?

My friend and her husband seem to have grown so far apart from each other that dare I say I think they can't stand one another.  It breaks my heart.  I remember when they 1st met about 6 years ago.  They were best friends.  They couldn't stop talking about each other when the other was absent.  Her friends became his and vice versa.  They complimented each other so well, their relationship was the envy of our friends.  We all wanted what they had.  What they had.

Then they got pregnant.

My friend came from a broken home.  Mom and dad were divorced, both parents were drug addicts and she was on her own by the age of 17.  She vowed never to put her child(ren) what she went through.  She vowed to be the most supportive, loving mother she could possibly be.  Her husband came from a "balanced" home, parents in tact and well educated with summer camps and sports to boot.

Motherhood changed her.  Can you blame her?  He did not change.  He went into the marriage not expecting to.  Can you blame him?  She did.  She changed, so he should have to....or should he?  He is a loving father who supports and loves their daughter very much.  She expects him to stop hanging out with his boys as much as he used to.  I mean, she stopped girls night out.  But did she need to?

I usually take pride in the advice I can give my friends on relationships.  I tend to look at things objectively and take both sides into consideration.  I also realize that between her side and his side lies the truth. 

What saddens me the most is that I do not see him reaching her expectations of him and vice versa.  She wants him to change in such a way that simply will not happen because he does not want to.  He wants her to accept who he is as he was when he entered this marriage but she believes that parenthood demands the changes she is asking.

Both are torn.  Both are broken.  Both are shells of who they used to be and it breaks my heart.  I feel like nothing can fix them and they need to end this marriage.  Why then does the vow of matrimony call for better or for worse?   

Our Friends at HSN and QVC

Every now and then I have trouble sleeping and I switch the TV on to one of the 2 home shopping stations: QVC or HSN.  Minutes of watching these channels will usually put me into a trance and lull me to sleepy time. 

First I take notice of those who had their acrylics and gels touched up that week.  Then I take note of those who need it.  I listen intently as a product piece (jewelry is my favorite) is talked up in the most 'exquisite' of ways. 

"How DARLING is this piece?  Just look at that sparkle and shine.  Have you ever seen such brilliance?!  You will be the envy of all your friends."

"This piece will become a cherished HEIRLOOM for your children, their children AND your children's children.  No one will ever know that you only paid 399.99 plus shipping and handling."

"Just look at the SIZE of that STONE!  You see now with all the celebrities out their like J. Lo and Angelina Jolie dripped in these exquisite gems.  Now you too can have this look at today's special introductory price for just 3 EASY payments of 99.99."

Just as amusing are the women that call to talk about the product they just purchased.  Eight times out of ten they will say something else because for some reason, "Jen" the spokesperson has done her job so well that now caller "Betsy" does in fact feel like Jen is now her girl.

Jen: So we have a caller, Betsy, from Smalltown, Idaho. Hello there Betsy!  So tell us what you love most about this ring.

Betsy:  Hi there Jen you look so beautiful tonight just like you do every night.

Jen: Oh why thank you so much Betsy, aren't you just the most darling little thing!  Now tell me about that ring.

Betsy:  I watch you all the time. 

Jen:  I'm so excited that you love our product!  Don't you just feel like you won the lottery since this item was such a steal?!  *laughs to self*

Betsy:  My granddaughters think you're so pretty...

Ah yes.  QVC and HSN have become friends to many.  I am happy for all the Betsys out there that have found company and solace from shopping with their girls.  I personally prefer tangible girlfriends and shopping malls.  Then again, I come from Jersey.   However, "Jen" too has become my girl because when insomnia kicks in she's there to squelch it.

It's been fun Home Shopping Network.  Thank you and good night.

Ode to my Dive

Have you ever just looked around one day and said to yourself, "What the fuck am I doing?"  This statement could be in reference to actions, situations you may find yourself in or people you are with.   I often find myself saying this after sitting down at my local dive which I affectionately have referred to in the past as Divers. 

Divers is a place my hubby and I found a few weeks after moving to the city.  We were looking for a local place that we could hit up for a cocktail and conversation that was close to home.  After trolling 1st and 2nd Avenues we stumbled upon Divers which we were both reluctant to walk into after our 1st passing.  Little did we know that we would become regulars and befriend all the local drunks.  In the process we've met drunks, losers, druggies, drug dealers and believe it or not some people that were to become good friends. 

From Divers we were introduced to a speakeasy which we've frequented for card games, drinks and some serious dancing...until the place was shut down.  It turns out the place was funded by the feds for what turned out to be one of the largest drug busts in the city.  Who knew?  I just got a kick out of doing something different (sans the drug part).  Although I will say I did get a bit of a kick out of seeing it in the papers when the shit went down. 

At any given time on any day I can walk in and see more than one interesting characters that have become fixtures at D.  My husband and I would typically look out of place at such a dive and I would dare to say we even look preppy in our environment regardless of the missing polo shirts and penny loafers.  

Rob is a old man who works the bar a local golf couse.  He thinks no one knows he's been drinking on the job all day, but we know.  He has a crush on me.  He says I look like an ex and he pulls a picture circa something 80's of some Asian chick that looks nothing like me.

John is an east coaster and keeps saying he can't wait to meet some exotic Asian woman to make his life complete *gag*.  He's got the biggest nostrils I've ever seen on a human being.  That and a very large front tooth. 

Tim is a charismatic fat dude that deals coke.  Or so I've heard.  Nice guy but I hate what he does therefore I am torn about our friendship. 

Ana has a crush on a bartender that successfully strings her along.  I'm guessing it's for the tips - whatever that is. 

Maria is my friend.  She moved from Wisconsin and talks about going back.  She loves reading and crosswords.

Sally is a dainty little thing that mooches off her boyfriend.  She doesn't work and doesn't drive but she's cute as hell and we're pretty sure she gives a mean BJ.

Cara is a lawyer.  She too is my friend and doesn't fit the Divers profile but she's hanging with her hubby who is just a social and charismatic as mine.

As I wait for my drink I wonder what my parents would say if they knew all that came with the D.  Surely my cotillion, the violin, piano, ballet lessons and trips around the world should not have led me here.  But mom and dad won't visit and if they did I'd take them to a place with wine and cloth napkins.  

Yeah more often than not, usually when I'm waiting for a refill, I look around and think, "what the eff?"  But then the next drink comes and it's all good and think about what I'll write next.    

Bittersweet Monday

A lot has happened since Michael and Farrah have passed.  I talked a dear friend off a ledge and found out the next day that she (metaphorically) jumped when I turned around.  Thankfully she is on her way to recovery.  Another one of my closest friends just had emergency surgery to remove cancerous cells.  My husband and I hosted a friend's visit from PA for 3 nights.  I hiked 10 miles for the 1st time on a trail at Mt. Rainier.  I got a job. 

It's amazing how consumed one can get when someone you care so deeply about is in pain, be it emotional or physical.  I miss the days when my biggest worries were whether or not mom and dad would let me spend the night at Heather's or whether or not they'd buy $70 Cavaricci's for me. 

Hiking was an amazing experience and I never ever in my wildest dreams thought I would ever have the stamina to hike 10 miles.  Granted I didn't climb to the peak and beat my chest but some of the switchbacks were pretty tough. 

Weeks ago I posted 'Broken' when I really felt just that.  Today is Monday and for the 1st time in months it felt like a Monday.  But I am so okay with that; because this week Friday will be that much sweeter.

Dead Celebrities

Today we lost 2 HUGE American icons.  First off I need to say that I feel terrible that Michael Jackson stole Farrah Fawcett's limelight because in my opinion they both deserved it.

Michael Jackson:  I recall getting his Thriller album at Pathmark (back when the east coast chain sold records -ok I'm dating myself) and listening to it endlessly as I moved the needle and memorized the lyrics to every single song. 

Farrah Fawcett: Personally I didn't watch Charlie's Angels but her beauty made me question my dark and "oriental" features. 

The landscape of our country as we know it is limited to a finite definition as is OUR life.  To see these icons' lives documented back to back makes me think about how I want to be remembered.

I can only speak for Mr. Jackson as I "know" him better than Ms. Fawcett.  Today people prefer to reference and remember the musical genius behind the Motown magic and moonwalk.  We will acknowledge but prefer not to remember the molestation and the black to white transformation.

None of us are perfect and when I die I hope that people remember the sun shiny me and the person that always strived to see the good in things and above all the laughter that I've tried to provide. 

When I was about 5 years old I asked my mom why only famous people died because some famous person's death was all over the media that day.  I'll never forget the sadness and fear I felt when she explained to me while pruning the front yard bushes that EVERYONE dies.... 

Alls I know is today we are not dead.  Let's do what we can to make our memories good ones because in the end, that's what we become. 

Altered Memories

Yesterday I chatted with an old friend.  Sixteen years ago Michelle and I were best friends but our friendship ended in the juvenile way that young teens handle things.  Since then we've forged new friendships, gotten married and I moved across the country.

We reminisced about times past; parties we've gone to, people we've spent too many hours with. We discussed relationship triangles, abortions, pothead friends and broken hearts.  We spoke about our friend's escort service, how we were appalled at his new lifestyle and employment inquiry and how we both refused to work for him.  We also discussed the irony of him running this service from the bedroom in his parents' house while mom and dad had a makeshift chapel in the basement complete with congregation and Sunday services conducted by a real life priest.  It was so absurd, not only in hindsight but even at the time.  Life was amusing to say the least.  Someone should have written a book.   

In our 2 hour discussion I was intrigued by how much she didn't recall of what I had remembered.  In turn, she felt the same.  Entire events were completely gone from memory.  Like the time outside of Ruby Tuesday's she had so much hairspray in her hair and when her brother went to light a cigarette her hair caught on fire.  She told me I doubled over in laughter and she was so pissed at me.  Gone.  I don't recall the event at all.  As a matter of fact I told her I don't think anyone's hair catching on fire is a laughing matter.  She told me even now she thought it was hysterical.   She couldn't recall the time her cat dragged in a used condom and dropped it off right at her mom's foot during breakfast.  Nothing.

So I wonder how much of what we remember is real but I also wonder how much we don't recall.  In other words, maybe our perception is reality and truth hangs somewhere in the middle.

If I Were a Man I'd be Gay

I remember fall 2 years ago I looked out the window at the Space Needle and saw a flag with the number 15 on it. 

"Honey what's with the 15 on the needle?"

"Hon, first off that's a 12 not a 15.  It's for the 12th man."

Ah yes, but of course.  The 12th man is otherwise known as the term commonly used to describe the fans within a stadium.  In this case the Seattle Seahawks.  Why you ask?  Because most football leagues allow a maximum of 11 players per team on the playing field at a time, the term denotes the attempt of a team's fans to help their team (thank you Wikipedia). 

My husband explained this to me like it was second nature.  It's like he came out of the womb with this knowledge.  Ask 100 girls what the 12th man is and I'll bet the farm that only 10 will know.

Guys talk about stuff like "first and ten" and "picking up 6 yards on the second play".  I don't know about you but all I hear is 'jibber mcjibber wings over there....' I've tried so hard understand this game and the only part I've successfully picked up is touchdown and line of scrimmage (it's where they start - yay me). 

But rest assured I can tell you all about why you can't wear that light blue top with your jeans and why the aubergine scarf looks better on Kate than Alice.  That I can tell you in fine detail.  Football?  Not so much. 

So what is it about guys and football?  I think it's the structure of the game.  There are yards and downs and stuff involved that is defined.  Women like things that are pretty and we talk about things that are debatable.  We like it that way.  I know I do.  I can tell you right now, if I were born male I'd sure as hell be gay. 

Conchita this is for you.

eh yo Conchita????  this is for you!  I came on here thinkgin i'd write somethinf proofound and edit and do all the stuff i noramally wouold do if i'd eddit ti be sober.  BUT   you had a special request and i told you no probs so here I am in awl my gory. (glory(/

there is notning improtnat I reallyh need to say but BUT I will post anyweay because at this point in time there was and ins (perhaps) too much draaaama that was going on and I would much rather have people reading bulll shat than the negativity that was going on.

that said... here is to nonesensical stuff and sunshiny days in the northwest and other stuff that we all take for granted.  here ye.  here ye. 

\sober post to come....swwear to bejeaeesus.  mad love.  peace out and happyh froday. 

Flirting

Is flirting bad?  I was always a natural at flirting and I did it with reckless abandon when I was single.  So should it stop once you're in a committed relationship?  I've witnessed many friends in committed relationships, guys and girls, continue to flirt with complete strangers.  My guess is that we do it because it's fun, it's a boost to the ego, to know you still got it. 

So why do we get totally bent out of shape when we find out he's done it?  Insecurity.

We're supposed to be the apple of his eye, his one and only desire.  We should be the only one of the opposite sex he should have engaging conversations with that has nothing to do with work.  We should be the only one he flirts with because when you flirt with someone it means you want to sleep with them. 

Was that it?  Because it's sounds logical to me. 

So, in terms of flirting what's considered acceptable and what isn't?   Is it ok as long as there are no malicious intentions and it's completely innocent (read: no sex wanted)?  Or is it only ok if we do it and he doesn't?  

draaaank

Boo.  How'd it be if we all posted druunk   stuff.  oh my good ness.  ok.  Craziness itlooks like everybody is going thru stff that sux...big time.  maaaan  i wish that we were'nt a;;  goiing thru things because life would be so much better if we weren't going thru the drama..,./;.maaaan...

Where My Girls At?

As of late I haven't had much to say.   A few weeks ago Espresso Girl said she had writer's block and I agreed and felt I did too to some extent.  I've noticed a slew of new writers (welcome!) but I am a bit saddened to see how some of our old crew has slowed down in writing, myself included. 

My email inbox used to overflow with updated blogs and comments and lately, nothing to sneeze at.

I wonder if we've exhausted our "material".  I wonder if the novelty has worn off the way Friendster did before MySpace before Facebook.  I hope it hasn't.  I hope we've just hit a dry spell and like any relationship, we'll recover. 

Maybe I need to buy you all a cocktail or 5.  Maybe we just need time.  I just hope this isn't the beginning of the end.  I've seen too many of those in my lifetime. 

Is it the pressure?  Are we all looking to write about something worth saying and getting reaction to?  Are we done after receiving the blue mug in the mail?  Maybe we're all just too busy.  Or maybe there's really nothing to write about. 

I'm still holding on for the comeback.  

Coffee Snob

Mmmmm cawfee.  My day hasn't officially begun until I have my 1st cup.  This love affair of mine began in high school.  My parents had a Mr. Coffee coffee maker in a beige and brown motif that had 1980's written all over it. 

When I left for college I bought the mini version of what mom and dad had to bring comforts of home to my dorm room along with the Sam's Club canister of Maxwell House. 

For special treats I'd make a Dunken Donuts run.  Wawa's was a close 2nd depending what I was in the mood for.  I swore up and down nothing would ever beat the smooth silky taste of a Dunken Donuts coffee.  The year was 1994 and I liked it light and sweet.  Occasionally when I'd get a wild hair I would grab a Wawa coffee 1/2 vanilla from the cappuccino machine 1/2 regular coffee for the perfect vanilla coffee fix.  Perfection.

Then I moved to Seattle and everything changed.  I became THAT girl.  I became the coffee snob.

My 1st job out here was working with a company called Sur La Table.  They pride themselves in culinary expertise and the lunch room didn't have coffee from some antiquated industrial sized drip coffee maker.  No, no, no.  We had our choice of using 5 top of the line espresso machines.  What if you were the mood for a nice cup simple drip coffee?  For that you can make yourself an Americano (a shot of espresso with steamed water).  Drip coffee was frowned upon.  Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months.  Before I knew it I preferred espresso to coffee, Americanos to drip and black to light. 

I later acquired said fancy espresso machine for myself.  When I do order coffee now I prefer it's from Starbucks.  Occasionally I would like "a regular" at home so I've purchased a Bodum French Press.  Long gone are the days of the drip machine. 

I'll admit it.  I became a coffee snob but my love affair with coffee continues.  Those that don't indulge in what I consider one of life's greatest pleasures are missing out on a sacred ritual.  It's not JUST about the caffeine, but it's a soothing, calming part of my day that allows me at least 10 minutes of indulgent me time that happens to give me a boost of energy to start my day.  From Dunken Donuts coffee cups to espressos with my pinkies up!

Broken

November 14, 2008, that is the date on the release papers from my previous employer. Like a dirty little secret that was discussed and documented about me, right behind me.  I found out on Thursday, November 20th.  I will never forget because my company notepad has the date on the upper right corner atop an empty page still waiting for voicemails that were never retrieved and notes from meetings I had already accepted. 

My company decided to officially lay me off the day before my wedding.  This was their gift to me.  In an instant I was a stay at home housewife.  My identity as I knew it would was no longer. 

I wasn't too happy with work.  But who is really?  I did the daily grind, made a decent living and I was an independent woman who didn't rely on anyone to help me survive.  I was about to marry the love of my life and things couldn't have been better.

Then just like that; my entire world changed.  In the beginning there were no tears and reluctantly I was at peace with what had happened.  I was filled with hope and excitement of endless possibilities.  I thought about all the things I wanted to do, things I wanted to explore.  There was so much energy and excitement and I was ready to make everything happen.

It's June 2009 and here I am; months later, elations deflated and hope sucked out of me.  My efforts are futile.  I hear it's because of the economy.  However, my insecurities are screaming reminding me that I am surrounded by friends and family more fortunate than me.  I am filled with envy but my smile and enthusiasm make their best efforts to hide the pestering demons inside.  I question my sanity.  The questions and answers don't change.  People are reluctant to ask how the search is going, but they do, and like a broken record I tell them, "...not so well but times are tough and I'm trying to staying positive".  They nod in approval as I lie.

The weekend ends and Monday gives birth to a new week.  Wednesday comes and the energy and excitement of mid week surrounds me.  Friday is here and everyone celebrates with laughter and drinks but to me everyday is Friday yet I smile and raise my glass and celebrate with friends.  I am happy and carefree from the stresses of work.  People remind me that I am lucky.  "Now you can do what you really want to".

What I really want to do silence the voices that belittle me everyday.  Every application that goes unanswered is another kick to my gut.  I get up and do it all over again day in day out.  I wonder about the opportunities I may have missed and question decisions I have made.  What if I missed a window of opportunity and this is why I am here?   Now I'm sounding like a true American.   

I do volunteer work.  I run.  I signed up for a marathon.  I do things to occupy my time and build my character.  Yet I feel weak and wonder what it will take to make me strong again.  I question if this is my test then I curse the plan. 

This is my story.  It's an internal one that is masked by a made up face, pressed clothes and impeccably groomed facade.  My manicure is flawless and not a hair is out of place.  It tells the story that I want to tell; that I am fine, I am positive and I am continuing to make my best efforts.  That my chest is full of faith and I still have my shit together despite the odds.  

I think of the other stories.  The ones I don't hear, the ones that aren't told.  I think about those that had so much more to lose than just their pride and think about how I can make a molehill into a mountain.  

We struggle and we don't have a manual to reference when something inside breaks.  We make mistakes and self medicate in an effort to ease the pain and fix what's broken. We bandage broken bones and stitch up bruises instead of putting them in casts and letting bruises fade on their own.   

I am reminded of struggles past.  The first time my heart was broken and the tears and pain and emptiness that didn't end.  My days started and ended in tears.  People told me things would get better and my heart would heal in time.  I didn't believe them but it did.  The 1st time I lost my job and the disappointment and failure I felt.  Wondering what I did wrong and how I should have fixed it.  I would never gain my confidence back.  I did.  The time I couldn't support myself anymore and had to move back home.  The shame and self doubt made me question my ability to pick up and become independent once again.  I did.

So I look back and think of times that have broken me.  I swear this time is the worst, but it always is.  Then another day begins and the days blur and I can barely remember when things got better.  Except they did. 

Perky Breasts and Hairy Legs

Everyday I feel like a kid pretending to be an adult.  Are you suppose to wake up one day and say to yourself, "Self lookit. I've got a job (or not), I've got kids (or not), I've got a spouse (or not), I don't live with mom and dad (or do) and I declare adulthood".  According to the calendar and looks I get after being ID'd I am an adult.  Today I met someone at the park who was hosting her 13 year old's birthday party and she stepped away for a few minutes to speak with me and my friends.  At the end she closed with, "THANK YOU.  I just needed to speak to some adults for a minute."

I still pretend to be an adult everyday.  I put on makeup and high heels and dropped the "like" out of like every other word I like used to say.  I do things like pay bills, grocery shop and go to the cleaners.  I do things like swish my red wine around the glass to let it breathe before sipping and approving for the table.

I over hear the 13 year olds at the picnic table next to us and 4 boys in the group are comparing leg hair.  One says, "My leg is hairier than yours" the other says, "I shaved mine by accident".  I tell my husband to show them his.  He doesn't.  The girls are growing into their bodies and their hyper activeness is slowing down.  They still scream emphatically when another girl gets dropped off and hug with such vigor.  They hop on the swings and push each other with their best efforts to go all the way around. 

I turn and look at my married friend, our hairy husbands and think about asking Kim to hop on the swing so I can push her.  I laugh to myself and think maybe I'm not pretending anymore.  

Request Denied

I am on Facebook.  Surprise.  The idea of rejecting or denying a friend request is an old topic but I'm going to revisit this one more time.  Yesterday my cousin Nicole requested to be my friend.  I see she has not yet set any of her privacy settings and there is her birthday in black and white.  Month / Day / 1991.  Last I checked we celebrated her 12th birthday last month.   She seems like a smart kid, I wonder why her math is so terribly off. 

My sister and I exchange texts as we find this to be an awkward dilemma.  She's not some crazy ex, annoying old friend or grade school buddy.  She is our FIRST COUSIN.  Sister and I agree to hold off and see what Nicole's sister and the rest of our cousins do, all of whom are in their late 20's, early 30's.  Well look at that.  They all accepted.  

Leave it to sister and I to stir the pot and deny the request.  It's not that we're posting sex tapes or pictures of us doing naked shots off each other.  Our posts aren't explicit with all this fucking random fuckity fuck fuck written all over it.  But some things between family and social life need to be kept separate especially when it comes to a 12 year old girl.  Sorry Nicole, love you but you're request has been denied.

Pinky Swear

The other day I was telling my husband about how I haven't talked to one of my friends in a while.  We have been emailing back and forth and playing phone tag.  A common friend and I met up for drinks the other night and she asked if I had spoken with "Rose".  I told her it's been a while and she told me I should give her a call but not to mention it to Rose. My husband did not get this.  I told him that it's possible Rose told  common friend X not to say anything as in, "swear you won't say anything".   Matt laughs again and says, "See that's the difference between men and women".  I guess so. 

When was the last time you heard a straight man say, "Swear you won't say anything?".  How girly and gay is that statement?  I said so what would a guy say?  "Let's keep this between you and I".  Gosh, how mature of you.  That sounds so....classy.

So what is it about girls and girly talk?  "Swear you won't say anything" can be heard across playgrounds, restaurants and nursing homes across the country.  Ok, I made up the last part.  But you get what I'm saying. 

Males in general are much more direct.  Females are dramatic by nature.  Let's break it down.   By definition to swear is "to make a solemn declaration or affirmation by some sacred being or object as a deity or the Bible."  Seriously, why are women so dramatic?.  Yet, I love every bit of it.  As classy and manly as "Let's keep this between you and I" sounds I still love the drama and the pinky swears and the "WOOOOO" coo-ing (as in declared by Barney Stinson). 

Girls night out?  "WOOOOOO!" 

Jenn's got a new maaan!!!! "WOOOOOOOO!" 

Friday night? "WOOOOO!"

You guys are like my bestest friends in the entire world! "WOOOOOO!" 

To all my girly girls in the house.  Let's not change a thing.  Pinky swear?       

Business Trip

Tonight I met Vanessa at my local dive bar.  She's a pretty girl I notice sitting at the front right by the video poker game at the door as soon as I walked in.  A few minutes later a guy sat next to her. 

Halfway through Vanessa's smoke I join her outside.  Robert, the local drunk, was already outside taking a picture of solo girl with the Space Needle as the back drop.  I asked her where she was from.  Texas she said.  The time was 10 PM and she was there since noon.  She was in town with her boyfriend who is here on business.  "He's from California and I'm from Texas."  Flag 1.  I was rather impressed by how sober she was considering the time she had put in.  I asked if she had taken a midday break from Bar X and indeed she did to meet the boy for lunch before he headed back for a meeting. 

She proceeds to tell me they're staying at the Holiday Inn and no one can know she is there. Flag 2.  Wow.  Really?  Do people notice flags anymore or am I the only one?  It's one thing if your man's on business, but for no one to know?  If he is here for work, cool that his girl decides to join just as long as she is not hindering any business.  Why would anyone give a rat's ass if he has company for dinner?  UNLESS....  Girl, your man is married.  I hate to break it to you but all his associates know this which is the only reason no one can know you are here.  

So many, too many men pull this shit and it makes me sick to my stomach.  Now my previous post speaks of an A-hole that totally acted one way in front of his wife and another when she wasn't looking.  Am I drawing my own conclusions?  Maybe.  But I can't think of a single reason why a man away on business would hide the fact that he has company on his business trip.  Mind my business?  Ok.  But spectulate?  Eff yeah.   

Traffic and Weddings and Assholes

I've been gone for a long Memorial Day weekend and already feel out of the loop on PNN!  I went to a friend's wedding which would have been about a 3 hour commute on a normal day that turned into an 8 hour commute, 16 hours round trip - but that's neither here nor there.

Friday night was the rehearsal dinner.  My friend Kim and I went sans husbands who were to meet us the next day.  There we met "Kay" and "Bob".  Kay has known the bride for 17 years and has been to every one of her weddings.  We talked about many things among them was what a terrible husband the bride's ex was and how everyone should be so lucky to be with a man like Bob.  Kay points out that her husband adores her and still makes her feel like a princess despite the fact that they've been together for so long and she has even put on a lot of weight.  In that split second I think to myself, "Wow, what a lucky woman" and "Wow I wonder what he's really like when she's not looking".  I was about to find out.

About 3 hours and several bottles of wine into the night Bob picks up my camera and offers to take a picture of Kim and I.  He chuckles and gives it back to me.  Apparently he thinks it's hysterical that he's zoomed in to take a picture of Kim's chest.  Yuk, yuk.

Five hours into the night.  Kay and 90% of the party has gone back to their rooms to retire.  Bride to be, Kim and I and a handful of guys plus one new female friend head out to the local pub.  Wouldn't you know Bob couldn't keep his hands off any of the females INCLUDING the bride to be.  I even have a picture of him grabbing her breast in one picture as evidence. 

For obvious reasons this bothers me on numerous levels.  I like Kay.  Kay is either in denial that her husband is not man she makes him out to be OR in fact really believes that he is.  How many women out there live with this overgrown frat boy?  Do all men get like this?  Maybe it was the wine and beer combo.  Maybe all guys are jerks.  Or maybe Bob's just an ass.  For all women and for the sake of keeping faith alive, I hope it's the latter.

Promiscuous Girl

Years ago I worked with a girl who would later become a very close friend, I'll call her Jenn.  When Jenn 1st joined our company she was about 300 lbs in a 5'3" frame.  She's the kind of girl that when spoken of people always said, "She has such a pretty face".  Jenn had a magnetic personality and drew people in with her wit and her charm.  Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, she didn't have much success with men.  One time she showed me an email she sent a boy she knew from high school and recently reunited with at a party.  She sensed that they had some sort of chemistry so she took a chance and rolled the dice with a pretty direct email.  She never heard from him again.

About a year and a half into our friendship, she told me that she decided to have gastric bypass surgery.  As some of you may know it is a serious procedure that only morbidly obese candidates should consider.  Jenn qualified. 

In a years time I watched my friend shed half her body weight.  She looked and felt amazing.  She started to get attention from guys that would have never given her the time of day.  By her 2.5 year surgery anniversary she treated herself to breast implants and a tummy tuck.  Jenn's transformation was complete and she was stunning. 

In the months that followed she noticed that her hands and feet were getting numb.  Then her vision started to blur.  For a while doctors attributed it to a vitamin D deficiency due to her mutilated and redirected intestinal procedure.  Many doctor visits and misdiagnoses later she was told that she has Multiple Sclerosis.  Everyone was floored.

Jenn never sulked or withdrew.  I think she repressed it because she did the opposite.  What seemed to emerge overnight was the most promiscuous girl I've ever come to know.  She slept with every boy or man whether he was single, engaged or married.  If it rose to the occasion she would fuck it. 

Typically I don't agree with promiscuity.  I don't necessarily think that sex should be saved for marriage either.  And yes, I do understand that sometimes sex is just sex.  But I wonder what I would have done in her situation.  She was dealt a hand that no one should ever be dealt and I think she's playing the best she can with what she's got.  How would you play?

"Sorry...Joe he ain't feelin so good"

Yesterday I celebrated my birthday and I LOVE me some good party.  I don't act my age nor do I care to and big ups to my friends that came out.  I have a tendency to wear my friends out in terms of drinking and partying and I'm still ok with that because I still boogie my ass off like any 23 year old with a firm ass and tight waist.  Eh I'm drunk because it's actually my birthday now and true to baller style it's my birthday weekend mo-fos and I AM DRUUUNK as in like riiight now and I happen to have some some deep thoughts when I'm wasted.  Go figure. 

Ah - so back to my story...  I've got friends from all different lifestyles and ages at this point in my life.  So today I get a text from a good friend of mine that came out with her hubby last night.  Now my friend is my age but got married about 10 years earlier than I did.  She has a house and her and her hubby are granola even by Washington state standards.  They grow their own shit and had a compost bin before green was the new black.  Anyhoo, I drag them out to a lounge which to me was a bar with music and a place to sit if need be but generally after hours where people danced their little bootie shakers off.  They called me out at one point in time and said, "yeah you took us to a club" and gave me a look like I just injected them with HIV.  My bad.  I didn't really think it was a club as much as it was a lounge with music and people dancing.  Kisses?

Oh yeah...story....so I get a text today from "granola" apologizing for her and husband leaving early - they so peaced out while no one was looking - and she says they had to leave because, "Joe wasn't feeling well."  It's all good people.  I've heard this excuse M A N Y A T I M E S.  No need to lie people.  If you're not feeling the scene, I ain't gonna hate you for it!  It's happened before and I'll still love ya.

Ok, another story, we're supposed to meet up for drinks at 7.  I get a text from friend X at 6:30. "So sorry, we can't make it tonight, Mo's belly's been bothering him all night so we're gonna stay in."  DUDE.  It's ALL good.  If you can't hang tonight because you don't feel like it, just say, "We're gonna skip tonight and we'll see you next time."  I won't think any less of you, I won't make fun of you. No doctor's note required.   What I will do is respect you for telling me that you're just not up for it.  And you know what?  That's cool.  I'll have a shot for you.  Ok....so maybe I'll call you a pussy on the side.  But it's all in jest and I'll still love you.  Smooches bitch!  (shout out to the original profanity B - fromthehipchick -  for all the profanity and lost audience). BUT IT IS MY BIRFDAY BITCHES!!!!

9 Yr Old With a Void

Today is Thursday, the day I volunteer at the Treehouse.  Some of you know about this from an earlier post (Good Day).  For those of you that don't, it's a profit free organization that helps foster children and the families that take them in.  I volunteer at the Warehouse which is set like a department store full of children's clothing and toys, only all the merchandise is free of charge.

Today I bagged up some goods for a middle aged woman with a warm smile.  She was a bit overweight, had rosey cheeks and was the kind of person that automatically made you feel at ease.  I said, "Are you sure this is all you want?  You know you can get more stuff for her."  She told me that it was for her granddaughter and her she was "a big girl".  She said, "You know what my baby said to me?  She said she eats so much because she doesn't know her daddy.  So my other daughter, her aunt says to her, you know my baby doesn't know her daddy either and she's not overweight.  And she says, Yeah but her daddy's not dead".  In awe I asked how old she was.  She is 9.

We continue to chat for as long as it takes to bag 3 items.  I tell her it's amazing how perceptive she is and she agrees.  When she leaves, the thought doesn't. 

I think about it some more and the more I think about it I conclude that either this woman I've pegged as "warm" is either lying to me, her grandchild is regurgitating what people are telling her or she is repeating what she's overheard.  I don't want to discredit this child, but the better part of me tells me there is no way in hell that a 9 year old child would assess her overweight state and come to the conclusion that she is filling a void.  If that were the case I think we'd all be good.  Maybe I am wrong.  Maybe kids these days are living in a world so different from the one I grew up in that 9 year olds are old souls, but I hope I am wrong.

Michelle Has Requested You as a Friend

I've written about Facebook before and today I was reminded again of why I'm on it.  Yes, I'm on it to stay in touch with friends I physically moved away from and yes, I'm on it to reconnect with friends with whom I've lost touch with for reasons good or bad.  Lastly I'm on it for idle fun.

Today I logged on for all intent and purposes what was supposed to be a quick 5 minutes.  That's when an old friend who I've recently reconnected with IM'd me. 

Michelle and I had a unique and close bond that lasted about 5 years.  For those 5 years we were either on the phone together or together in an era before cell phones and email.  This was the era of our prime and ultimate youth.  We were right out of college and experimenting with relationships.  We were still invincible and indestructible.   

I usually spent the night over her place, actually her parents' place, rather than mine.  Her parents were quite lenient to a fault and mine were the total opposite.  I could define her household with this one morning.  We woke up in the usual cloud of cigarette smoke.  She lived with her 2 brothers, mother, father, 2 dogs and 3 cats.  Her parents were chain smokers and Michelle and her brother vied for a close second.  We went downstairs for some coffee and maybe food when one of the cats dragged a used condom into the kitchen.  Her mom said, "Well, WELL! SOMEONE got lucky last night".  Michelle had the cool house.

Sleepovers, hanging at the Smiths, the mall, Pt. Pleasant and Wildwood were some of my fond memories.  I watched her fall in love with Shawn who was madly in love with her.  I'll never forget the time she caught him in the shower with socks on.  She flipped but I can't blame the guy.

She watched me endure emotional abuse from a relationship I refused to let go of.  She watched me attempt other relationships only to watch me go back to the loser who would cry until I gave in.

Like any good friend she told me one day that she had had enough.  She was done watching me cry.  I was pissed that she didn't support me.  Isn't that what friends did?

That was over 10 years ago.  Then she found me on Facebook.  She's married to Shawn.  Thankfully I am not married to the boy that made me cry so much. 

Today between Whole Foods and QFC she IM'd me.  We chatted about random stuff but then she said she didn't remember why she was so angry with me.  She apologized for not thanking me for the flowers I had sent on her birthday that one time.  I didn't tell her that I don't remember. 

Michelle's friendship was one that I always held dear to my heart.  When she found me I was reluctant to accept because I wanted to keep the fond memories that I had.  I didn't want to further tarnish whatever damage we had done.  But I accepted.  Even though the words were on screen, they were from the heart and I think we are starting to heal from the damage we had done.  

Dead

Have you ever thought of when or how you would die?  I have and by no medical means to date, I've come to the conclusion that my demise will either be cancer or a car accident. 

Have you ever thought of what it would feel like to be dead?  I think feeling dead would feel a lot like sleeping.  Long ago when my parents paid lots of money for me to attend catholic school I imagined I would go to heaven if I was good.  Years passed and I decided I was not going to heaven until I repented for all the evil I've done as much as a 12 year old's evil little soul could do.  Wherever evil that was, I did it.  Staying up past bed time? Check.  Lying to mom and dad? Check. Wishing your parents were cooler?  Check.  Hell in a hand basket for sure.

So last night I closed my eyes next to my husband and left this world.  There were no dreams that I recalled, I just left.  I died.  If in fact my soul floats around and bounces about my fleshy body everyday, where does she go?  Does she sleep with me?  Is she dictating my dreams?  Or...is she my soul that hangs out with me?  Does she get drunk with me?  Does she go to bed with me?  Does she sleep with me??  "Hello soul.  It's sleepy time." 

I don't think so.  I think I die every night. 

I think you die every night. 

When it's our time I think our eyes will close, forced by trauma or not.  We will go to sleep and dream of things that are comforting. Or not.  But it's ok because if tonight's dream is unsettling, tomorrow's probably won't be. 

But if you sleep tonight, you died for a little bit.  Scary?  Fuck yeah.  But really, it's not.  Sleeping is pretty kick ass and I think one day that will start off just like any other, we'll close our eyes and sleep forever. 

PMS

PMS sucks.  Last night I wrote up a little thing called "Insecurity" and realized I get all like this at this time.  According to my little pill pack I am due for a visit in 3 days.  Until then I will think about all that sucks and it will be magnified ten fold.  I'm pissed that my tan is fading.  I'm upset that the sun only makes and appearance after 5 PM.  I feel fat.  If I see another 'oh you went to Jared' commercial, especially the one with that nagging GPS, I will throw the remote at television.  If I order a cheeseburger without onions and onions are on my bun I will tear up in frustration then scream at the BK boy for eff-ing up my order.  When the novocaine from this morning's dental work wears off I will likely ignore all calls and blog about how much this sucks. 

Yes indeed PMS is no fun.  I don't usually hate life or stupid people this much, but until Aunt Flo comes a knockin on my door the silver lining around that cloud isn't silver people.  It's just more grey.

Insecurity

So here I am, a few weeks away from my 30 something birthday and thinking about where I thought I would be.  Although the question is relative I'm talking about where I thought I would be about 5 years ago.  "Where do you see yourself in 5 years?" is a typical interview question.  It's also a question I think many of us ask ourselves.  I'll tell you what.  I didn't think I'd be here.

As some of you know, I was recently laid off.  Although at this point 6 months isn't recent anymore.  What some of you may not know is that I found out I was laid off the very day I went back to work after taking time off to get married.

At this point in my life I thought I'd be happily married with a house, a dog and and secure job.  I guess 2 out of 4 ain't bad.  Or you'd think.

I grew up in a typical Asian household where a lot of weight of who you were was in your profession.  I used to be gainfully employed and made a pretty decent salary in corporate retail merchandising.  When I was laid off I wasn't too surprised as my company was on a steady decline for quite some time.  Luckily my husband had a secure job and was even promoted shortly after I was laid off.  The timing couldn't have been better.  Although I was happy for him there was a tinge of jealousy that I so wish I didn't have.  He has always excelled in school, sports and work.  He effortlessly has what I always wanted. 

I don't think he realizes how lucky he his.  I don't think I'm an idiot by any means but I had to seriously study to get by in school.  For years I worked my ass off at work only for a thankless response.  My husband is a hard worker and has reached levels of management in his career that I will never see.  He's a member of Mensa and thinks it's a hoot.  What I would give for that stupid card.

Yes, I'm lucky to be with such a man.  He's handsome, brilliant and successful.  And the crazy thing is, he chose to marry me. 

There was a time when I would rate myself a little higher on the scale.  But when who you are is defined by what you do, it sort of does something to your soul.  It's hard to keep perspective on what really counts when things aren't going the way you expected.  I want what he has.  Hopefully I really have what he wants.  And hopefully one day I will have all of what I really want.  

From Cabo, With Love

It was Saturday, April 26 and day 2 of our vacation in Cabo, Mexico.  That's when I first heard the words "swine flu".  For the duration of our stay we kept the channel on the only American network station available and heard continual coverage about the swine flu and our failing economy.  

Originating in Mexico, the swine flu seemed to be a bigger deal in the US than in Cabo.  Bartenders kept mixing up pina coladas and pouring tequila.  The servers asked if we wanted our beans black or baked. Our cab drivers picked us up and dropped up off at our destinations mask free.  None of the locals ever mentioned the swine flu.

A week later the media had sufficient time to drive the fear of the flu well into America's head.  Upon arrival in the states we were greeted by an army of medical masked warriors.  We felt like diseased freaks as people gawked at us with fear. 

Matt received a message from work.  "Due to the heightened sensitivity of the swine flu in our area, we request that you please work from home this week." 

We came back from Mexico at the height of the media circus.  Everyday people jokingly ask us to, "stay away from them" or ask us if we have "the flu".  They ask us if we feel sick.  Crazy with the timing they say.  But I wish I could get back on a plane and fly back into that virus ridden country.  I'd order a shot of tequila and shoot the shit with the bartender and we'd talk about everything but the flu.

Still Got It

Just back from a week's vacation at a beautiful resort, my husband and I met a cast of characters that made our trip all the more memorable and entertaining.  More than likely we will never cross paths with these individuals again but I can honestly say I'm happy we did.

Night 1 - Fresh to the scene and taking it all in, we went to the indoor resort bar after dinner.  That's when we met Kolten.  He's from Canada celebrating his best buddy's birthday with his buddy's girlfriend and sister along with 2 other guy friends.  Six total the others were napping back in the rooms. Kotlen leaves and 2 hours later emerges with the other 5 in tow. 

Introductions - We meet Dave. Dave has an awesome head of hair, is always smiling and sweet as pie.  There is Dustin.  Dustin also has amazing hair, plays hockey and is there celebrating his upcoming birthday.  Heather is a tiny, attractive girl totally done up and has the lightest platinum blond hair I've ever seen in perfect ringlets.  She is Dustin's girl.  Dana, equally done up hair and flawless makeup is bday boy's sister and the momma hen of the group.  Brittney, Dana's best friend and the sole brunette of the girls is also flawless in tresses and face.  She likes glitter and things that sparkle.  Guys and girls, from Canada are all incredibly attractive.  I feel sloppy.  Surely I cannot spend my precious time with those that look like they came straight out of some VH1 "reality" show. 

It's close to midnight and we decide to check out the beach party which is the featured event of the night.  Music is kicking and everyone is all hands up and booties shaking.  The girls know the words to all the songs.  It's quite amazing.  We get up on the table and dance.

Hours pass, at this point we've decided we're like all totally BFF's.  We're invited to Dustin's birthday pub crawl on Tuesday.  They're fired up.  He's turning 20.  Wait.  What?!  The needle scratches off the record and a simultaneous, "YOUR'RE TURNING 20?!" comes out of me and my hubby's mouths.  WTF.  They don't see the humor that Matt and I do because we think it's hysterical.  But we're proud.  We still got it.

Honeymoon

In the summer of 2002 my close friend Cindy asked me to be her date for her 10 year high school reunion.  Her husband was away on business and I jumped at the chance to accompany her.  We had a blast.

In the summer of 2005 my roommate Alice was dating Shane and they wanted to set me up on a date with his friend.  Soon after plans were made they ended their relationship and the blind date never happened.

In the fall of 2005 a group of close friends and I had a night out on the town in Hoboken, NJ.  That's the night I met Matt.  Among other things, we talked about where we went to high school.  Not only did he go to school with Cindy, they were good friends that had every single AP class together from freshman to senior year.  He didn't go to his high school reunion because he was in a friend's wedding that day.  We shut the place down and found our friends patiently waiting for us outside.  There was Shane standing on one side of the door and there was Alice smoking a cigarette on the other.  We were stunned at the coincidence. 

Matt and I fell in love, moved across the country together and got married.  Meanwhile our parents unintentionally moved down the street from each other. 

I don't know too much about fate but I couldn't have been more blessed to meet Matt.

Tomorrow we leave for our honeymoon.  Have a wonderful week and I'll see you when I get back!

When Things Suck

Do you know how difficult it is to stay positive?  I can't recall a time when I've felt this useless.  This is the longest period of time I've been unemployed.  At least in the past I would at have options and people calling me to come in to talk, chat and discuss. 

People tell me to stay positive.  "It's tough out there."  "You're not alone."  "Things will get better."  But it's hard.  No really, it's hard.  Day in and day out I try to stay hopeful just like I was yesterday, and the day before, and the day before.  I remember the endless possibilities that lay ahead of me.  Oh now is my chance to do what I really want!  Now I can start over and get out of this career rut that I've been in!  I really am lucky!  I really am lucky!  I really am lucky!  I really am lucky.  Tomorrow we'll wake up and say it again.

Things are great.  Things could be worse.  I know, I just wrote about it.  I am lucky to have a roof over my head and I'm lucky to have my wonderful husband who has been nothing but supportive.  I am lucky to have friends and family that hold me dear to them.  Don't mind me.  I'm just having a moment and it needed to come out.  I just need it to pass like a ton of shit weighing me down.     

Lucky Us

This man that lives in my building has lost his mind.  Three years ago when I moved in he just seemed like an overly friendly and talkative man but I wasn't too surprised as I seem to attract these types.  Whatever the topic at hand, it would always conclude with his wife.  He always found a way to work her in, so much so that I questioned her existence.  Eventually I met his wife, which to his credit gave him validation.

As months and years passed, his conversations would become more disjointed and nonsensical. I would continue to engage, as I'm sure by now you've figured that ignoring and walking away is not my style.  I never know if his stories are true.  I never know if there is a reason he's telling me.  I do know that on the reciprocating end they make no sense.  A part of me tells me they are true pieces and the socialization filter I have isn't putting them together.

Months ago I was walking my dog when I found him feverishly walking in circles on the terrace.  Surprisingly he didn't notice me but he was walking with his cane at a maddening pace. I worried about him and wondered how long he had been there.

Last Friday I bumped into him in the laundry room and he started to tell me about something. Sadly I didn't retain it but true to form the conversation ended with him telling me that his wife is Eskimo.

It terrifies me to think of who this man used to be, how he got here and how none of us are spared from this possible demise. Time can be unforgiving.  There are times, lately more often than not, I've felt bad for myself and wondered why I am here.  When I see this man I am reminded again and again that our lucid time on earth may be shorter than we know.  And despite everything negative I can conjure, he reminds me how lucky I am.

The Sacrifice

My hair appointment was set for Saturday, 2 PM.  I booked it 4 months ago instead of 3 due to the current job transitional situation.  It took me 2 years to find her after realizing that paying half of what I normally would for a cut and color was not worth my aggravation.  I was done with sacrificing 4 to 6 hours of my day for a cut and color.  I was done having random blond chunks in my black hair when I lifted it up into a pony tail.  I was done with shitty highlighting and worse touch up jobs.  Done.

That's when I found her.  I could have sworn she was 42 years old from my last appointment but she told me she was 47.  I didn't ask, naturally it came up.  She spoke of the choir again, the divine voices that speak to and direct her.  She told me about her recent break up with this beautiful, dark black women.  She's into women of color.  Not necessarily black, but not white, but not hispanic they don't get along romantically for some reason.  Her ex was 1/2 white, 1/2 Korean so that doesn't really count for white.  That one broke her heart, just totally left her without an explanation which was totally uncalled for.  The recent one, the black women who used to be married and has a 3 year old daughter, left her to go back to her ex. 

I was on my 2nd cup of americano.  Did I mention this place has a barista and a DJ?  Fancy stuff for sure which is why it's every 4 months now and not 3.  I start to yawn.  She tells me I have ADHD.  She has ADHD and uppers have the opposite affect on "people like us".  She tells me that coke (as in caine) makes her sleepy and pot gives her energy. 

We talk about her tattoos in detail, her hair colors and why she's platinum now.  We talk about her mom, her father's alcohol addiction, her sister's divorce.  We talk about how she almost got fired - wait. what? - but she convinced her boss that she's worth giving a second chance.  She proved her point (thankfully).  We talked about her former drinking problem.  She told me she writes and tells me about her blog.  I don't mention mine.  She's working on a book.

I walked out at 5:30 and the only thing she knew about me was that I wanted to stay dark, cover the greys and keep the layers long.

I look the same only better.  No one will realize I just spent 3 1/2 hours of my life getting my hair cut and colored.  No one will know that I listened to everything that was on that woman's mind. Except you.

Fancy Day

Today's gonna be a doozy.  I'm going to get my hair did.  After 2 years I finally found someone in the city that knows how to do my hair.  I've been going to her for a year now. 

If I were gay I'd totally have a crush on her.  She's 42, in shape, has an amazing faux hawk and flawless face.  She's pretty hot.  She's crazy too.  She speaks to the "choir" or rather, they speak to her.  See, she's been blessed with a gift that only a few can understand.  She knows this yet she tells me and I nod and accept the information.  It has become her religion, this divine intervention that speaks to her and leads the way.  I think I have one of those too only I call it my brain.

Tonight I am meeting and spending the night at a hotel downtown with 5 other women.  A good friend is getting married for the 3rd time next month and tonight we have orchestrated a non-bachelorette bachelorette sans penis straws and candy necklaces.  So if you see a bunch of drunk mid-thirty to early-forty somethings painting the town red, that hot sloppy mess will be me and my crew.  Holla.

Tricia

I met Tricia 6 months ago.  The only reason I know is because I asked her yesterday.  Now I remember.  It was the weekend my husband was in Vegas for his bachelor party.  Ohhhh yeah.  I was home, drunk, trying to figure out what to do with my evening.  I'd be damned if I stayed in.  I had a couple glasses of cheap wine before walking the dog.  That's when I met Tricia.

Tricia just moved to the building from Boston.  I caught on to the east coast accent right away but wasn't quite sure exactly what part of east she originated before she verified.  There she was.  She had prime seating in the middle of our terrace right in front of the Space Needle.  Big girl, big hair, cheap wine and extra glasses in hand, she offered me a drink.  I accepted. She just moved in and she was thrilled; unemployed and full of hope.  There she was in all her glory.  I just met my new BFF.

Two hours later we went to her apartment. We went to mine.  I took her to my favorite local bar.  She wanted to take me to hers.  I followed her into the bowels of the city until I realized she was full of shit or drunk as shit.  She had no bar.  I left her and walked home.

After that I saw her a few times in the lobby.  She was always so friendly but in that weird, she wasn't all there, kind of way.  She always had a shit eating grin.  She was always in scrubs and talking about decorating her aPAAtment.  But "very classy.  very classy.  in a very classy kinda way".  She always emphasized that.  Maybe I'm the nut, who knows.

Yesterday I bumped into her in the lobby.  She told me she was moving and was going to travel the world.  I told her that was awesome.  I asked when she moved in.  She told me October.  She asked if I wanted to buy a plastic plant from her that, "Must've been at least 200 dollahs. easy."  She got it for $150.  She was selling it for $20.  The rest of her furniture was rented.

I declined and I lied.  I told her I'd ask around.  But she's moving tomorrow and she just told me yesterday.  What should I have said? "Oh.  No, but good luck with that."?

So in came Tricia and out she goes.  Such is life and the people we meet.  Hi and good bye.

Double Standards

I am an Asian woman and I married a non-Asian man.  My "brothers" can call me a sell out if they choose to and I imagine some do, although they'd be wrong.  I've spent a majority of my dating years dating Asian men.  I've also dated other races outside my own.  I don't have a preference as some people do.  I like who I like and I love who I love regardless of color or ethnicity.  That said....

What is it with men and Asian women?  I've seen porn featuring my kind, yet I can't find a single one with an Asian man.  Is that funny?  I don't think it's funny.  As a matter of fact I find it insulting.  Granted I would rather be in my position rather than his.  I think the unfairness doesn't end with dating.  I think it affects every aspect of their lives.  Most Asian guys I've dated felt they were misunderstood.  Not necessarily by me but in general.  I always thought they were full of it and I just happened to date guys with the "woe is me" complex.  Maybe to an extent I did.  Or maybe it was valid. 

Years ago I worked with this girl.  She was all worked up because she had a crush on the guy who lived across the hall.  Weeks later she bumped into him coming home with her.  This is what she said, "and she was Asian!  What is it with Asian women?!"  I just sort of looked at her with a "Hi have we met? I'm Asian" face.  Whatever that is I made it.  That same girl was equally worked up when this mystery man she got along with so well with on match.com finally revealed he was Asian.  I think she called it deception. 

I'll never understand what it is, this double standard between the sexes of my kind.  I certainly don't deserve any advantages based on my ethnic features or what's between my legs.  None of us do. 

2 Minutes and an Empty Bowl

Why am I still awake?  Why do I ask myself that question every fucking night?  How come I can never sleep at a decent hour?  Today was a waste.  It was a wasteful Monday and I can't help but feel guilty.  Aren't Mondays the most productive day?  I remember that.  All those stupid reports are due.  Maybe I should have gone to the grocery store.  No, I really should have done my laundry.  No.  I should have worked out like I said I would.

Why did I get laid off?  Oh.  The economy sucks.  Yeah I read it in the papers and saw it on the news.  I wonder why all my friends are working.  That makes it hard to meet up for brunch, lunch, a mid-day walk.  Yeah I heard all these people lost their jobs.  It's interesting and kinda cool that I don't know any of them.  I wouldn't want any of my friends to lose their jobs too.

John just got another promotion.  I think this was his 3rd promotion since he's moved to the city.  That's so awesome to be doing so well when the economy is a shitty as it is. 

Should I continue writing or am I just wasting my time?  Is this a way to not do what I need to be doing?  What is it I need to be doing again?  Oh I know I need to find a job.  I'm trying.  Should I try harder?  Maybe I need to try harder.  Yeah, I need to try harder.

I want a brownie.  I want to eat the whole pan of brownies I made yesterday.  I know I should have a salad and maybe 1/2 a sandwich if I'm still hungry.  Remember we went over this?  We're going on vacation in 2 weeks. 

Oh god I need new accessories.  I want one of those long chains that are cool.  I need shorts too.  I don't own shorts because I don't believe in them.  I think they're frumpy but they came out with super cute ones this season that would be super cute with some sort of wedge or casual heel.  I actually like my legs.  Yeah, I know I can't get it. Unemployment doesn't pay as much as a full time job.

Is today Monday?  Oh, yesterday was Monday.  They all feel the same.

Is that the dog licking his empty bowl?  Yeah it is.  Please hold while I fill it...

I'm glad Hudson has no thumbs.

Family Dinner

Since I can remember our family holiday gatherings were pretty formulaic.  My parents, sister and I would go to mass at noon then head over to the designated house for lunch which always ran into dinner.  Every holiday a family would take a turn hosting the next party.  For years it would usually be my parents, my uncle or my aunt.  As other family members became home owners and children became adults they too would join the growing list of party host.

After all the greeting hugs and cheek kisses we'd move on to the kitchen for a visual inventory of what we were going to partake.  From there we'd move on to the TV room and claim a spot on the couch if we were lucky enough to get one. 

Then out came the wine, beer and soda.  We all sit around drink, talk and be merry without a care in the world.  We don't talk about financial problems, relationship problems, work problems.  We're just and it's all good.

The roast is finally out of the oven and, "Time to eat!" is shouted across the house.  We gather around the table, my dad says grace and we work our way counterclockwise picking and choosing. 

An hour later mom will complain that she over did it.  Dad will be drunk and 2 of my uncles will be passed out on the couch.  My aunt will tell me and cousins that she will take us on vacation after she wins the lottery. My younger cousin will be texting her friends about things that are way cooler and I'll be the odd one out requesting a cup of regular as the rest of my family sips decaf.

I wasn't home this Easter but I was there.  I heard all the chatter, saw my dad talking my cousin's husband's ear off.  My 2 uncles passed out on the couch and my little cousin texting away.  That's the cool thing about formulas.  They're constant and I look forward to the next time I go home and see that nothing has changed. 

A Good Day

This past December my husband's company had a holiday party the way so many do.  The only criteria was to donate a toy to get a foot in the door.  Typical of so many men, my husband called me the day of and reminded me to pick up a little something for the holiday party he almost forgot about.  Car-less I walked to the local Bed Bath and Beyond that is so fondly known for having everything beyond.  To my disappointment the holiday section was relegated to a lonely bin and a sad rack of holiday toys.  This tall fuzzy no name doll thing with a mass of pink hair drew my attention amidst some dull cellophane wrapped no name board games.  I don't think she belonged to any network owned cartoon or any savvy commercials.  She was simply a no name thing with a mass of pink hair under $20 that some girl I would never meet would one day own on some day that I will never see.  I took my garnet lacquered index finger and scratched the price sticker away.  Green sticker bow and tissue paper, red gift bag and off we go.

Today I woke up early pretty excited that today would be a little different from yesterday.  You see, I haven't worked since I was laid off in November and today was my 1st day at the Treehouse.  The Treehouse is an organization I volunteer at to help foster children and today was my very 1st day.  The Treehouse offers many beneficial programs to children in foster care but what initially draws their caregivers in is the warehouse.  The warehouse is a "store".  It's a clothing donation facility that is merchandised and set up like a typical department store with only in fashion goods that are categorized by size by style.  It's "shopping" experience with dignity without any price tags.  This appeal is the gateway for other programs this wonderful organization has to offer. 

Today was my 1st day.  I was given the obligatory tour of the premises.  About a decade of my life was dedicated to retail so most stores free or not don't impress me.  I was sipping the last sip of coffee when a pink fuzzy mass caught my eye.  "There's a toy section here?".  Carrie confirms.  "These are all left over from Christmas drives that local companies have donated."  Stunned, I pick up the pink fuzzy thing.  I turn it over and see garnet scratches where the price sticker used to be.  I tell her the story.  She thinks it's funny.  "Oh really?  That's awesome."  But no....you don't understand.  I've said that before and this is not "awesome", but I don't tell Carrie. 

It's 10 AM and the doors just opened.  I tidy up the store and observe the racks so I know where to direct people should they ask.  I need to look like I'm working since it's my very 1st day.  Impressions need to be made.  I know about these things.  I've got my phone in hand ready.  I need to take a picture.  My husband will never believe this.  First I have to check out my 1st customer.  The guests are allowed an excessive amount of inventory.  Ten of the used items, 2 pairs of shoes, 4 new items, 15 overstocked items, 4 toys, 2 stuffed animals, 1 coat, 1 pair of PJ's an unlimited amount of school supplies and books.  I greet my 1st guest.  I am supervised; although I feel like I'm 15 years old it's my 1st transaction and this is protocol. 

"Hi there!  You all set?  Could I have your last name please?" 

She takes the 1st of 5 full shopping bags and pulls out a doll with a mass of pink hair.  I look at Carrie and say, "Oh my God.  I was just...I can't believe..."  and she's all, "That's funny".  She doesn't get it.  This was mine.  This was a half assed purchase that I made 4 months ago that was supposed to go to a nameless family that I would never meet.  This doesn't happen in real life.  You wash your hands and you don't see where the dirty water goes.  You just know it goes...

I scan her items.  The tall fuzzy no name doll thing with a mass of pink hair is now hers.  It will go to the child she is taking care of.  It goes in the same bag as the 5 donated shirts, 5 donated pants, 2 pairs of sneakers, 4 new dresses, 2 raggedy stuffed animals and 1 coat with a tiny stain on the right arm.  That's when I realize I am at the other end of the sink that I was never meant to see.  I hand her 5 plastic bags and wish her a good day.  A good day. 

My Hudson

Growing up I wasn't allowed to have any pets unless it came in a fishbowl so I vowed to get a dog as soon as I grew up.  Although the latter never came, I became a proud mommy to my beautiful Hudson.  

Topping out at 13 lbs he will forever be my puppy.  My husband was weary of how good of a mommy I'd be.  He grew up with dogs his entire life and if he reminded me once, he reminded me a million times how it was no easy task. 

We had just moved across the country.  My husband was working at the time, I was looking for a job and I didn't know a soul.  I was sure a new puppy was just what the doctor would have prescribed.  I was terrified the 1st time I was left alone with him.  He always wanted to play.  He seemed so needy.  I needed to take him out every 2 hours.  He'd piss or shit right in front of me if I made a phone call.  Thankfully those days came to an end. 

He is a true lap dog and honestly I don't mind as much as my husband does.  If we're watching TV he goes back and forth between long lap and short lap until he tucks his little face under my arm and falls asleep.

Unlike his mom he's low maintenance, shuns fancy toys from the designer dog boutiques and will take a knotted up rag and a rock from the garden over labels on any given day. 

The only thing he wants from me is love and that he will have for eternity.  He's my baby and my pumpkin and I am so blessed to have him in my life.  I tell him all the time and he wags his tail in approval.  Then I give him a crunchy treat so he knows for sure.

Cheers

Yesterday was Sunday, a gorgeous day and everyone was out and about.  The hubby and I ended the day at the local bar around the corner where everyone knows our name.  I don't know if it was spring fever, but the celebration was on.

Maria was just about to leave when we got there.  My appearance convinced her to stay for "just another".  Just another turned into 2.  Maria dates Rick, the bartender from another shift.  He is not there today and neither is she really.  Maria is in a great mood.  She's slurring every word and I convince her it's ok not to finish the last Jameson and Coke.  She agrees, chugs her water and hugs me good bye.  She's a happy drunk.

To my left is Jose.  He used to date Sue the bartender currently working on the other side.  He's an eff-ing mess.  He is not a happy drunk.  He thinks he is, but he's flipping everyone off unaware that his underlying emotions are on his sleeve. 

To my immediate right is a woman I have seen before.  Last time she was crying to a song on the jukebox.  I remember because I rubbed her back to console her as she sobbed.  This time she was an ornery mess.  She started yelling at the guys next to her to play more music because she felt it was their turn.  She stumbles back from the bathroom with a tail of toilet tissue tucked in her jeans.  She becomes the butt of all jokes until Sue comes over and tells her what's up.  She gives an exaggerated hysterical laugh to mask her embarrassment. 

To my far right is John.  He had some sort of surgery on his knee and hasn't worked in 6 months.  After a couple of brews he thinks he becomes everyone's best friend and laments about how he has no one which eventually evolves into a conversation that gets him riled up because he seems to thinks that everyone thinks he's stupid. 

In walks Jessica.  I've never met her before but apparently she's a fisherman (fisherwoman?) who just came back from a successful trip.  "You had a good pot?!"  I say, spewing what I just picked up from watching Discovery's Deadliest Catch.  She buys the entire bar shots. 

Certainly spring is in the air and I chuckle about the absurdity that surrounds me.  Cheers.

I'll Have a Side of English With That

Oh man.  I just ordered a pie (pizza for all those non northeasterners) and I have no idea what the guy on the other end of the receiver said back to me. The closing went something like this, in a non Italian accent I might add:

me: Thanks I'll be paying cash. How much does that come to?

pie guy:  Ok.  30-35.

me: Great, thanks. So how much will that cost?

pie guy: Ok.  Busy.  Hold.  *click* ......dial tone

Don't get me wrong, I'm a 1st generation American so I grew up surrounded by heavy accents.  But something needs to be said for those in any customer service industry that can barely communicate in our national language. 

Today was pizza but I've had this experience at airports (which by the way Newark is THE worst offender), at banks, bakeries, grocery stores....the list goes go on and on.  If a major part of your job is communication, then dammit, I want some communication.  Am I crazy?  Is that asking for too much? 

The Office

Have you ever interviewed with someone and once you start working with them at that place they're nothing like the person that interviewed you?  I've noticed this with all the HR people I've interviewed with (no offense to my HR friends).  They're all your BFF's when you come in and ultimately accept a position in their company then BLAM!  They barely give you a smile as you pass them in the hallway (see "Inconsistent B"). 

Then there's the person that hires you.  During the interview you both try to see if you vibe with each other among other things.  It seems like you do based on the 20-30 mins you've spent together then... BAM!  Turns out she's a freak with boy issues and a strange tick you didn't notice during the interview. 

How about that director that you had to make an uber impression on to get through as your "final interview"?  You wanted to get in good with him...obviously.  Turns out he's a complete nut with ADD.

Yeah I've been there.  Maybe 1st impressions aren't impressions at all.  People in the workplace can be the strangest characters.  Maybe it's the stale air.  Maybe it's the bad coffee.  Whatever it is it usually requires some effort in getting your sh*t done with these people.  Maybe that's why they call it work.

Not in My Genes

They say we turn out to be just like our parents.  Everyone says I look just like my mom, even I can see it which means we probably look like twins.  But I think that's where the similarities end.  My mom and I couldn't be any more different.  Sure, I took on a couple of bad traits.  I've been caught rolling my eyes only to be called out when I didn't even realize I was doing it.  Ok, and maybe I'm a little obsessed with my weight and getting old like she is but that's where it ends.

Mom isn't very social.  Growing up I don't remember her ever picking up the phone just to chat.  The only time she'd pick up a phone was to make an appointment or if she needed something.  The people closest to her are my dad and her coworkers.  I think is by choice although I'm not sure. 

Mom always has her guard up and isn't open to emotions unless it's disapproval.   I'm not really sure where it all stems from since I never really got to know my maternal grandparents. 

She cares about me and loves me for sure.  Both my parents would be there for me in a heartbeat should I ask.  But as an adult I've chosen to be different from mom.  I enjoy reaching out to people and have always been very social.  I am blessed to say I have many best friends.  I also choose to be emotionally open and available. 

So I find it interesting when people say we turn out to be just like our parents, on a superficial level, maybe.  However, I don't believe it's our destiny.  I really believe if there are traits they own that we don't agree with, it's up to us to make that change. 

Pretty Pretty Snow Globe

Have you ever watched a friend make a terrible life changing decision?  I have and I've wondered if there was more I should have done to intervene. 

Years ago I watched a good friend of mine marry a man she wasn't in love with.  I remember my surprise the day she told me she accepted his proposal.  A year earlier her heart was trampled to bits by a complete a-hole that stole her heart.  He was the love of her life and to this day is "the one that got away".  The man she married is a wonderful, caring person that would do anything for her.  So ultimately she made the right choice, right?  Guess again.

She accepted his proposal while her wounds were still bleeding.  While I think it's one thing to date someone while your heart is still broken by another, it's a different story to marry someone while your heart aches for another man.  So even though her husband looked picture perfect on paper, the marriage is anything but. 

So I watch helplessly as Jack and Jill live in a heartless marriage.  I think about another couple I know that will be them in 5 years.  I think about how clueless they are and how we should all be allowed to watch ourselves from the outside every now and then.  Then I remember the mistakes I've made in the past.  I think about painful consequences.  I can agree that I am a better person for it - or am I?

Domestic Violence in the Guest Room

Holy Shit.  Chris Brown is in my living room and he's spending the night.  Ok..not really Chris Brown but it might as well be and my door is wide open.  "Bee" is a friend my husband and I met at the local bar about 8 months ago.  He's the kind of guy you don't want to know too much about because whatever it is, it's not good, but otherwise he's as sweet as pie.  Bee went MIA about 6 months ago and we figured he was locked up or something not cool. 

6 - months - later...  Holy shit it's "Taryn".  We walk into our local bar and Taryn greets us with a toothless grin and a big hug.  We haven't seen her since the last time we've seen Bee.  Her and Bee are together, but not really.  She takes me by the arm, asks me for a smoke and tells me whats been up.  What's been up???  "Bee's been locked up for domestic violence.  But I didn't tell you this."  We go back in and Bee tells me he's been in Mexico.  I welcome him back and tell him we were wondering where he's been.  Taryn pulls me aside and asks me to buy her a shot of tequila, because "cheap ass Bee won't pony up and buy me a drink".  The 1st one's on me, the next I put on Bee's tab.  T and I go out for a smoke, on me.  She's talking and I notice she's a couple tooth-less from the last time I bought her a drink.  She confirms my suspicion.  Turns our Bee did some hard time in "Mexico" for domestic violence.  We go back in.  We have a couple more drinks.  I turn around and Taryn is in tears.  She askes me for money to go home.  She came here with Bee and she's done.  She's finally done.  I go to the ATM, take out a $20. I hand her the money and tell her to be safe.  She thanks me for "things I don't even know" and disappears into the night.  Bee comes out with my husband.  He has a smoke.  The tab is paid. 

He's staying over.  Bee is cool.  We've known him from before.  He takes me home while my hubby is running to the store.  He's cool.  We're cool.  It's cool.  But it's not.  And I'm sick.  Because it's not cool.  And I'm letting Chris Brown stay over.  In my guest room.  On my 600 thread count sheets.   And I realize that Chris Brown is charming.  He's the guy next door.  He's our friend.  And he's in my house. 

Awesomeness

So I just got back from brunch with someone I don't see too often.   Sweet girl but she has the tendency to either 1) repeat the same thing over and over 2) tell me something that I really don't care all too much about.  My response?  "Oh really?  That's awesome." I must have said that at least 20 times this morning.  Yes I feel terrible but really there's only so much you can do in trying to steer the conversation another way.  So when all else fails I go auto-pilot. 

"Sam" tells me she's remodeling her house and made the most amazing curtains for her living room. Naturally I say, "Oh really? That's awesome".  *chomp* *chomp* *nibble* *sip coffee*.  The pillows match too.  It's not as gaudy as you'd think.  Normally it would be, but there's this trim.  Oh the trim!  So I tell her what I have planned for the weekend.  She tells me more about her kitchen.  I excuse myself to the ladies room, come back, she tells me about her curtains.  "Oh really?  That's awesome."  Not that that I don't care about the house - just - we talked about this 2 weeks ago when we met up for dinner.  Right...but let me tell you all about it again.

So if we're ever hanging out and you find me saying "Oh really?  That's awesome" to everything your saying, chances are it really isn't.  The only times you'll hear me say that and actually mean it is if you just got a promotion, found a new job or won the lottery.  Other than that I will have a more emphatic form of expression to show my enthusiasm. 

Sometimes all it takes is a little attentiveness from the other party.  Unless of course you don't care.  In that case, tell me more about those curtains honey. 

Is that bad?  What do you say to someone that just doesn't get the clue unless you pick it up and place it in a basket right in front of them?  I mean I think she actually thinks that I think it's all very awesome.  Would silence have been the better alternative?    

Inconsistent B

Inconsistent people have always pissed me off.  I'm not talking about the chick that orders the salad one day, steak the next.  I'm talking about the ones that become all chummy with you at the client dinner then the very next day at the office they walk right past you in the hallway without even a smile as if they barely know your name.  Yeah, that girl.

She's the one that is all cool and hanging on you when you bump into her at the bar with a couple of friends then the following week she's all, "Hi" accompanied by a toothless smile :] .

Inconsistent girl is the one that you see in the elevator that has that semi-elaborate conversation with you.  The one that escalated from weather to the funny dude that works in concierge, only to find out that later she doesn't hold the door open for you in the lobby as you're coming in behind her - oh and she saw you.

WTF???  You either like me or you don't.  It's not rocket science people but it is confusing as hell.  It's like ordering the filet and not even letting me cop a feel before I drop you off.  That kind of confusing.  So to all the inconsistent people out there just do me a favor and figure out which side you're on.  Otherwise I'll just go ahead and label you a bitch.  Oh, and if none of this makes sense to you.  Then you my friend are that inconsistent bitch, bitch.

I Hate His Ex

No not really.  Actually exes don't suck all that bad.  Most of us are exes ourselves.  Besides they're just as innocent in all this as you and I, assuming no one signs up to be an ex. 

I've been fortunate enough to have more than a few lucky guys earn that title following my name.  This is the very reason I feel I can think like I have a dick, although I don't actually have a dick so I'm slightly limited in that respect.   Thanks to them my rose colored glasses are now a dusty rose that reminds me of my aunt's old couch and that's a good thing. 

Exes usually come with a stigma that we put on them.  Chances are they are just as normal, if not more so than us.  I would like to think that my honey had the good sense in him to have dated likable people.  I mean I'm likable, right?

The thought of exes can have the tendency to stir up emotions that we didn't think were feasible.  The one that starts at the pit of your stomach and makes you feel like the bottom just fell out from under you.  That or just dislike.  That feeling is even worse if his ex is - god forbid - attractive. 

But starting today I say we thank the exes.  The person you are with would not be wonderful specimen that he is today without having had her in his life.  I for sure would not be the wonderful, knowledgeable person I am today.  My exes have made me more aware of who I am and what exactly it is that I expect and want in a relationship.  My exes lead the bumpy road that took me home.  So to all the exes out there, thank you...and you're welcome.

I'll Drink to That

I was a 70's baby.  I was born just before the era of excess.  Well, the 1st one at least.  The one when mustaches and collars were fat and cocaine was all the rage.  But I've noticed that my generation is excessive in one thing in particular.  We like to drink....a lot.  I don't know if it's always been that way and I've never noticed, or if we really do just drink a lot.  Recession?  Cut out the filet mignon and down grade to Admiral instead of Captain.  Prioritizing is key. 

When did our relationship with alcohol become so intimate?  Everyone's looking forward to happy hour or looking for an excuse to do happy hour.  Promotion?  HAPPY HOUR!  Laid off???  Let me buy you a drink...or 10.  People talk about drinking to the point of puking and passing out like it was just a regular Thursday night.  Is that really just a Thursday night?

We love to celebrate with it just as much as we love to cry with it.  It can be the best companion in good times and bad.  When we find out that a party is a dry one we get a little weepy. Open bar?  Hallelujah! 

I don't know one person my age that hasn't drank beyond their limit.  The only people I know that don't drink, don't drink because they used to drink too much. 

I wonder if people drink more because it's legal, easy and fun.  I don't know.  But I know we're a generation of drinkers whether it be casually, moderately or excessively.  It can be wonderful.  It can be terrible.  I guess just like any relationship sometimes you question where it's going.  And just like any relationship it's all about balance and knowing where you stand at all times.  Can we drink to that?

TMI Girl

She's the one that always gives out too much unsolicited information.  If you've had the "pleasure" of meeting her you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.  What I find the most fascinating is that they often don't realize that TMI makes people uncomfortable.  There's a time, place and audience for it.  What's TMI?  Oh let me count the ways.

When I'm at work drinking my coffee in my cubicle world I don't want you to come over and tell me about how your teenage daughter has issues with her 3 year old sibling and has been wetting her bed every night.  TMI.  I also think it's great that you've come a long way considering you used to sleep around so much you've even contracted crabs in a past life.  TMI. 

When I'm on Facebook and I'm looking for ways to idly pass my time I don't want to see on your status update that your 3rd attempt at in vitro went south...ummm.  Nor do I need a visual on what your toddler threw up for lunch.  TMI.

When I'm walking the dog and we start chatting I don't need to know that you had the most amazing sex of your life and he made you come 3 times in 15 minutes last night.  TMI.

Sometimes it's serious stuff and sometimes it's comic relief.  I like to save the TMI stuff for my bestest buddies.  There are some things that need to be held close to the vest, you know?  In the meantime I'll keep my status updates to....."Ms. Santos is making homemade chicken noodle soup for dinner".  Those closest to me will know what I'm really up to and that's not TMI.

High Maintenance Me

I've been called high maintenance and I'm ok with that.  I'm not talking about the stuck up, bitchy variety.  Rather I'm the one that won't be seen in public without having my hair "did" and makeup on.  All my shoes have a heel (partially because I'm vertically challenged) and I only wear sneakers when I'm working out.  All my pajamas are real jammies and I prefer my bras and panties to match even on those "non-special" days.  I'll tell you why.

I am married.  Granted I'm a newlywed but I was with my husband for over 3 years before we got married.  To this day I still freshen up my makeup before going home to see him or before he gets home from work.  Too often people get comfortable in long term relationships.  The comfort manifests in different ways.  Many people I know that are in long term relationships stop getting dressed up all the time, start throwing their hair back in a ponytail, stop wearing the cute pj's to bed, and really don't care what their underwear looks like.  You get the idea. 

What I do in terms of "getting did" may seem excessive to some people.  First I want to say that I do it for me.  I want to look my best at all times.  1)  I feel my best when I look my best.  Who doesn't?  Don't you notice how you carry yourself differently when you're all dolled up for an outing?  When you feel you look your best you feel good and why not do that yourself everyday?  2)  I do it for my husband.  Call me crazy but guys are visual creatures.  When he's at work all day I can guess that the office has its share of attractive women that have on make up and get dressed up every day (and so does the Starbucks, and the sidewalk, and the lobby...).  The last thing I want is to lose credibility in the - I take care of myself department - and have my hubby feel that he doesn't deserve to come home to someone that cares to be put together even for no reason at all.  Just to drive my point home, reverse the situation.  If you're with someone think about what physically attracted you to that person in the 1st place.  Now if he or she started to morph into someone that looks like something else wouldn't you be just a little dissappointed?

When we start taking our looks for granted we indirectly start taking our significant others for granted and we're doing ourselves a disservice.  Don't give up just because you got the prize!  I know all of this may sound shallow but I look at it as an investment not only in me but in my relationship.  This is strictly on an aesthetic note and I want to say for the record that I believe a meaningful relationship has many facets and this is just one.  So if my tactics are a little too extreme for your taste I say just throw on a little blush and lip gloss for YOU and your honey.  L'Oreal said it best when they said honey "Because you're worth it". 

High Rise Rudeness

I live in a high rise apartment in the city so I tend to pass people I don't know or barely know on a daily basis.  What I find interesting is how people react to strangers.  I'm a smiler so it annoys the hell out of me when I greet someone with a smile and I get nothing, nothing in return.  I just think that's the rudest thing in the entire world.  Don't get me wrong, once I've labeled you as a non-smiler I can turn into a better non-smiler at the drop of a hat. 

I guess some people are just more comfortable ignoring people they don't know. Maybe they fear the dreaded social BS conversation... you know the one?  The one that always has to do with the weather or my dog.  I don't mind it but I guess some people do.  Eh, to each their own. 

Living in a high rise I also meet people who don't know how to say "thank you".  It's really quite simple you'd think.  Not for these non-thank-you-saying-folks.  Instead your polite gesture of opening the door for them or asking them what floor they're going to on the elevator is greeted by them walking right past you as you open the door or them telling you exactly what floor they're heading to, no "thank you" thank you very much. 

I still chalk it up to bad manners, impoliteness and plain old rudeness.  In a time when the economy sucks and the world we live in is full of so much uncertainty.  Can't we just take the time to be polite to one another and smile?  Thank you.

Emotional Affair

I can't find the post I wanted to comment on.  I don't even remember the title or name of the author.   What I remember was her elation with the emotional affair she was having.  It was a rather long post and I was in a bit of a rush when I read it so I may have missed some details.  I know she was married, didn't catch if the other man was, and she and this guy (emotional affair guy) used to date years ago. 

This woman has been married for several years to her current husband when she and her ex found each other on a networking site.  They've been in contact for several months, exchanging emails and texts and recently escalated to phone calls.  The word she used to describe the way she felt when they spoke was "exhilaration".  I love that word.  It's almost an onomatopoeia to me, although I know it isn't really.  I just wouldn't use that word everyday so I find it really special because I can feel the meaning when I say it. 

I am going to take away everything I know about her relationship with her husband and I can guess why she finds this relationship with the other man so elating.  Because it's not real.  It's void of the everyday life.  It's void of the bills and the snoring and the vomiting and all the real ugliness that comes with life.  It's a blank canvas where she's not interrupted, like I'm not being interrupted right now.  I can reflect and type and think and not be so rudely interrupted.  Does that make you a better listener than my husband? 

She said they've started speaking on the phone and maybe that would make my last few sentences void since it is a form of interaction that is of the moment between 2 people where emotions can erupt in real time and there is in fact room for rude interruptions.  But there are no babies crying, mouths to feed or dirty diapers to change.  It's perfect and it's far from real if that's the basis for one's relationship.  

I firmly believe emotional affairs with the other person begin with their spouse.  There is something broken at home.  But I don't think it's fair to put the other man on a pedestal for being the "perfect man".  It is her life and not mine and if she chooses to continue her emotional affair because that's what makes her smile and gives her energy then I can't stop her.  It's just that I believe real relationships come with bills, and fights and folding laundry and all the things that make up every day and real life.  It's the person that is standing next to you paying bills and folding the laundry and doing the not so fun things with you in addition to all the elating stuff.  It's that balance and knowing that your working together in this crazy world to make your life together that makes it exhilarating. 

You can disagree with me and that's ok.  I just don't think that real relationships start when the children are in bed or in the next room so you can make that call.  And they certainly don't come with spell check.

Nothing Honey

It's ________ (insert holiday here).  He asks what you want and you say, "nothing honey".  Guess what you're getting?  Nothing honey.

I have been there and my girls have been there.  Times are tough and we want to be easy on the man since he's paying bills and spending money on everyday things just like us.  So when the question comes up we expect them to know exactly what we want.  Just a little something. 

Now I know there are a few exceptions for those of you that are really looking to put away some cash for a future expense or those of you that have just made a large purchase like a house, car, tv ,etc.  For the rest of us "nothing honey" means a little sentiment.  We're not looking for a diamond ring (ok maybe some are) but we are looking for a little something that shows us that today is indeed a special day and we are special to you.  We're not asking for a box of Godiva (but hey if you can afford it, we ain't stopping ya), a box Russel Stover will do - personally I like Whitman's but that's neither here nor there. 

See women just perceive things differently.  To us when we hear "nothing honey" from them that means just don't spend over X amount of dollars.  That's just what we hear.  So then we give them this present that really was just a "little something" in our book, they get all bent and the whole "...but honey I really thought we agreed not to get each other anything" thing comes up.  It really is a predictable cycle. 

So today let's join forces and put an end to this madness.  It's really not that confusing.  Yes, we're trying to be thoughtful because it's in our nature and we love to do that kind of thing.  BUT if you want a little something, nothing fancy (i.e. Russel Stover) then you need to spell it out.  No room for subtleties here.  Guys are direct; they're literal in certain situations like this.  You need to tell them and that's ok.  It sure as hell beats the foreseeable argument because they really need direction with this sort of thing.  God bless them.

People Skills

I am not old but I think I am old enough to say that people skills suck.  We weren't always this bad at it but I'm convinced that our technology is breeding this epidemic. 

As early as 10 years ago I was a little social butterfly.  I worked on the selling floor of an upscale retailer and I could schmooze with anything under the sun.  I had a knack for morphing into different characters given different situations.  I enjoyed it.  I was good at it.

When my retail stint ended and I interviewed with corporate America I excelled at interviewing.  I know this because I was told on 2 separate occasions at 2 different companies that were interviewing me.  I was young and confident.  I also knew how to speak what was on my mind while engaging in conversation.

Something happened in the course of 10 years.  The amount of time I spent speaking with people face to face diminished with each passing year.  At the office email was all the rage. It's easy, simple, no need for people skills.  No matter that the person I was emailing sat 2 cubicles over, this was easier than walking over or heaven forbid picking up a phone.  Same thing happened at home.  Why call and spend my precious minutes speaking.  Texting is SO much quicker. 

Twenty years ago I would spend hours talking nonsense on the phone with friends I had just spent the entire day with.  My parents would chastise me and thought I was plain silly.  But our generation might have been on to something because I can bet these days kids aren't spending hours talking to each other.  They're spending hours texting each other.  

So when I tried interviewing 10 years later I found myself at a loss for words.  I couldn't believe what I was not hearing.  Me.  All the thoughts and ideas that were swirling in my mind would not come out the way they easily would have 10 years earlier.  I wanted to ask for a laptop to articulate what I was thinking.  

I can see that I'm starting to sound like an old woman here.  Ask any 20ish year old that reads this and they'll be ROTFLMAO.  What does that mean?  Oh come on now.  Get with it.  

When a Friend is Hurting

When do you give a grieving friend the space they desire?  Shouldn't we be there to comfort each other when we're hurting?  Doesn't friendship and love heal all things?

In life we all go through hardships and we all deal with them differently.  Some people seek comfort from friends and family while others retreat.  Those of us that seek comfort when times are down are the ones that reach out to our friends that are hurting.  Sometimes the hand you extend isn't accepted.  This "hand" may be phone calls, emails, a random visit.  There is only so much you can do before you need give your friend the space he or she desires.  We all heal in different ways and although it's hard for us to understand a friend's actions, we need to respect it. 

A friend's unwillingness to accept your support can be offensive.  I often find myself frustrated and angry with my friend because all my efforts are moot.  It has even gotten to the point where her unresponsiveness is rude.  We used to know exactly what it was to get each other out of a funk.  Those days are gone. 

I don't like to see my friend hurt.  But whatever it is that is hurting her is something I cannot fix.  Everytime I get frustrated I need to remind myself that this is about her and not me.  I've done my part.  Before I turn around I remind her that I am here when she is ready.  I'll be there when she is ready to cry, talk or scream.  I'll also be there if she doesn't decide to do any of the above and just wants pick up where we left off.  Until that day comes I've let go of the pain this has caused me and accepted that I cannot fix her.  I retreat my hand and put it back in my pocket. 

Facebook and the Past

My sister recently told me about an article she read.  It was about how there are just some people who were meant to fall out of our lives and networking sites like Facebook and MySpace don't allow that to happen.  I can say I am as guilty of allowing people back into my life as I am of inviting people back into my life that I simply should have let go of.

I think there's a curious nature in all of us.  Fleeting moments in life had me wondering about my best friend from grade school or my ex boyfriend or my good friend down the street that I used to hang out with.  Facebook allowed me to become a voyeur to some of that curiosity.  Some reunions have been filled with exclamations and exciting emails about what we've been up to for the past 5, 10, 15 years.  Other reunions have been greeted with a limp acceptance of "friendship" and all the blanks filled in with pictures of moments past. 

Thanks to networking sites we'll always be able to find people that were meant to stay in our past.  It may be good or bad, I'm not calling it out either way.  It's just interesting and scary to think about where it has taken us because I think we're controlling things we weren't meant to. 

I have friends that refuse to join because they believe that the past was meant to stay there.  In the meantime my profile epitomizes who I am and where I've been onto a neat little page.  I know I'm more than that and I know all my "accepted friends" are too.  I just think it's funny how 2 old friends who haven't spoken in over 10 years can reunite and sum up lives into an abbreviated version of who we've become.  I still think nothing can replace a real reunion with face to face communication and contact.  Facebook is trying to but I think we aren't ready for that much realness.  If we were we'd just pick up the phone.

They Hear You But Don't Listen to a Damn Thing You Say

Two people who are dear to me come to mind as I write this.  It usually starts with a question.  They always seem to ask your opinion but all they really want to hear is their opinion as they bounce it off you which is fine but don't ask my opinion.  You tell them what you think and it's followed by a variation of, "Really, because I was thinking... or Interesting....."  OR they just look at you glazed over as they say, "Uh ha...." and you know she's really thinking about whether she should order the quiche or the salad. 

When I hang out with "Jen" I find myself holding back on a lot of conversation simply because she can morph into an expert on everything.  Sometimes I just want to talk about bagels and how fabulous they are or something really mundane.  Then I find myself getting an expert opinion on the best bagels the city has to offer and how Jen grew up in a family of bagel herders who would collect the finest bagels the state's finest bakeries had to offer every 3rd Tuesday of the month because well, that's when they're the freshest.  Something like that when all I wanted to do was mention this fabulous bagel I had. 

Yesterday Jen called me on her way to a well deserved shopping spree.  She asked my opinion on what type of gear to get and what I think flatters her body.  Since she asked, I tell her to go up a size, avoid anything too trendy and keep it age appropriate.  It all seems to be taken in good faith.  The very next day we meet up for coffee.  Her muffin top is insulting me and the man behind her.  Her whiskered denim from the juniors department is about 2 sizes too small (but the lady told her it'll stretch - whew!) and her fitted Ed Hardy tee sneaks up her belly an inch every time she takes a step.  She says, "You like?!"  I say, "No." she laughs and thinks I'm hysterical.  We meet up with "Jill" and Jill starts telling us about her upcoming trip.  Jen is ecstatic.  She's been there twice, became best friends with the bartenders at all the local bars and will email her a list of places to visit. 

Jen is fabulous.  She doesn't really need to ask me or you because she knows it.  Talking is her art and it doesn't matter what you have to say because she'll hear what she wants.  It's ok.  She'll never know she's doing it and will probably laugh when she reads this.  Actually it won't even make sense to her.  Because Jen is the best listener, best advice giver and will always ask for your opinion.  She really is fabulous because the Jen's in our lives live in a bubble that will never burst and will always be filled with fabulosity.  She can tell you all about it and don't think you can tell her otherwise.  But she'll ask. 

Boys Night Out

It's boys night out and we find ourselves saying things like doesn't he want to hang with me?  Or why can't I come? What do the boys do that make it boys night out anyway?  So many questions.  Do they go to strip clubs and ogle at boobies and asses?  Maybe they play poker all night with hot chicks serving them cocktails.  Maybe they're really hanging out with that slut we can't stand!  Or maybe they're just sitting around John's living room having a couple of beers and scratching their balls. 

For some reason or another men need to have their space.  If you think about it we do too.  It doesn't mean they're doing something crazy behind your back that you'd never approve of but maybe they just need some time with the boys to remind them that they're still the same person they were before they became part of a couple.  Guys are funny that way.  They don't want to change and they have a hard time growing up.  I mean they don't grow up.  I'm not saying that in a mean way, I just really think they don't.  No matter their age they will always be obsessed with boobs and think that farts are funny.  They're overgrown children and they need their playtime. 

I'm not saying accept that your man is gallivanting around if that's what he's been known to do.  If that's the case you've got a whole other situation on your hands and that's another blog.  I'm just saying stop driving yourself nuts by filling in the blanks and making all this shit up in your head as to what you think he's doing.  The more freedom and trust you give him, the stronger your relationship will become.  He will and he should respect that you give him room to be his own person and trust his decisions.  Relationships aren't about ownership.  They are about building a partnership in which 2 individuals come together to support one another. 

So next time it's boys night out relax.  Tell him to have fun and text your girls because boys night out just became girls night out.  Cheers!

Is He the One?

I remember a few years back I dated a guy for all the wrong reasons only I didn't know it at the time.  To me he was kind, generous and affectionate.  He put me on a pedestal and adored me.  We were of the same ethnicity and shared the same values, life was good.  What was there not to love?  I wasn't sure but deep down inside was a part of me I kept trying to ignore.  I ignored it long enough that I started to love him.  I think I loved him because he loved me.  It was sort of like an arranged marriage only it wasn't arranged and we weren't married. 

One beautiful, sunny afternoon I called my dear friend who epitomized the perfect life in every way.  I asked her, "How do you know if the person you are with is THE ONE"?  It was a lengthy discussion and somehow I was able to convince myself that the words that didn't relate to how I felt, related to how I felt.  I was approaching 30 and I didn't want to deal with dating again.  I dated so many of the wrong men and I was sick of repeating only what was expected.  So this worked.  What the hell was wrong with me?!  Of course this "perfect" relationship worked!  So what if he wasn't the best looking guy.  So what if none of my friends wanted to hang with him.  So what if I found myself overcompensating for his lack of social skills when we went out?  So what?

Then came the day.  It was the day that starts off like any other.  You get up on the same side of the bed and have the same cup of coffee and toast for breakfast.  Somehow that night in the backyard all his imperfections came shining through as if it were broad daylight.  I remember trying to have a discussion with him about ending our relationship and his social ineptness made him throw a perfectly innocent ashtray across the yard.  He couldn't find the words to articulate how he felt.  So I found the words for him.

So if you find yourself asking, "is he the one?" chances are he isn't.  Because when he is you'll know wholeheartedly.

Friends or Lovas? Or Just Friends with Benefits.

Apparently I made lunch plans that I vaguely remembered making last night.  I was 3 Raspberry Stoli and Soda's deep with 2 Jager shots to boot.  Thankfully I got a text a little past 1 confirming my suspicion.  My current "job transition" status should should explain the last 2 sentences...

I usually see "Ana" at "Divers" whenever I go, be it Monday, Wednesday, Saturday or all of the above.  She's there.  Anyhoo "Ana" lives in my building and invited me over for lunch (I think she said brunch).  I wasn't sure who was going to be in attendance besides me.  Turns out "Tom" was there too. 

I wasn't quite sure if these 2 had a thing going and it left me a bit uncomfortable due to the sober tension that brewed in the room.  They smoked funny stuff before the brunch/lunch which I can't do because it puts me straight to bed.  I wasn't sure if the dead silence over the table was because they were high or because I was there. 

Typically at Divers they'll head out to the car for - oh I don't know - anywhere between 5 to 20 minutes then reappear as if, oh hello!, no one noticed?  They've been seen leaving together in a drunken stupor in the ambient glow of one too many vodka drinks.  Only to not be seen for the rest of the night.  Funny, Ana and Tom will never be found holding hands or even flirting for that matter.   Maybe it's the "funny stuff" that brings them together?  Perhaps it's the stiff vodka drinks?  Perhaps it's the L word.  Hmmm.  Guess I'll never know. 

Thanks for the quiche Ana.  Maybe it's the quiche!  I'll see ya at Divers.

You've Been Tagged Situations

Unless you've been living under a rock the past 2 years the phrase, "You've Been Tagged" should conjure up an immediate thought.  Facebook.  Tagging shouldn't be a big deal but it turns out it can be.  First you need to make sure YOU look good.  Chances are the person that tagged you was only concerned that they looked good next to you.  Unless you're mindful of all your privacy settings then your friends, their friends and your friend's friends will ultimately know the person making the funny face, mid sentence at a funny angle is you.

Then there's the - my boyfriend/girlfriend/fiance/husband/wife wants me to un-tag that picture I was tagged in situation.  Although I'll bet it's a girlfriend/fiance/wife that's making this request.  Does one have a right to tag a friend in a picture of just you 2 when that friend is the opposite sex and in a relationship?  What's the big deal right?  Let's see.  My guess is that it's a woman tagging in a picture like this.  Why???  Women can be sneaky and conniving when it comes to the opposite sex.  It sends out a "look at me and don't you miss me and remember how cute I was?" message.  We know which is why concious women don't do it.  See guys don't see this because, God bless you, you weren't built like that.  So when your girlfriend, fiance, wife comes at you with the proverbial stick it's because we see every malicious intention that went into that innocent, it's no big deal tag.  You can nip this thing in the bud and just un-tag yourself my friend.  It's not worth it.  Afterall, it's no big deal right?  In the end it's just Facebook.  What matters is who you're having dinner with, who you go to bed with at night and wake up with in the morning.  The rest is just pixelated nonsense.