Friday, September 30, 2011

Tonight we are playing a new game called wine with friends. It runs all weekend. You can participate via comment, twitter, or facebook. If you are out with your besties, your boss, your family, having a glass of wine... or beer... or a mixed... tell me what your happiest thought of the day was.

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Dichotomy Dichoto-you?

"Gosh, kids who live on the farm look like they have it so easy. I wish I lived on a farm!" 
"I NEVER get to walk beans or bale hay. Look at them carrying firewood like they are so much better than me. Assholes."  
"You get to ride the bus for almost 2 hours a day? LUCKY!" 

I'll take "Things I've Never Heard Town Kids Say" for $1000...

di·chot·o·my [dahy-kot-uh-mee]
1.       1. Division into two parts, kinds, etc.; subdivision into halves or pairs.
2.       2. Division into two mutually exclusive, opposed, or contradictory groups. 

When you've spent most of your life surrounded by groves of trees and rolling fields every adventure that leads you through a "city" is like being transported to a magical world. Even as an adult I am awed by the skyline of even a modest city at night. The twinkling of lights, the swirl of activity in a world still alive far later than at home is mesmerizing.

I remember being half asleep in the back seat of the car as a very young child, on our way to visit an aunt at Christmas time somewhere near Minneapolis. Given my experience with cities at that point I could have been near any town that had an industrial block and it would have been the same. It was beautiful. The skyline blinked  ahead of us, side streets held a constant flow of traffic below our interstate lane, and I gazed longingly out the window wishing I could be there in the middle of it all. That feeling has never left me.

I feel like from that moment on, my heart has pulled me further and further from what I knew. That car ride changed me and how I saw the world. I would never be that same little girl who stood at the bottom of the hill, in the lane, waiting for her school bus to come. Looking back on it, I can only liken it to what you hear from someone who has "come out of the closet". "I just always knew. I knew I was different than my friends and family. Sure I pretended to fit in with my peers, but deep down... I knew."

I knew at that moment that cities turned me on. I knew that when my friends were choosing their spouses and settling in small towns that I was destined for the bright lights of a city.. any city... some place that there wasn't livestock to be tended, beans to be walked, corn to be detasseled, or chicken houses to clean.  I yearned for the excitement, the activity, and the anonymity that comes with living somewhere that not every single person in town knows your family. I was going to get out. Somewhere there was a place I wouldn't be Ryan's sister, Nancy's daughter from her first marriage, and later Mark's ex-wife. And I got it... and it was good... except...

Except when I hear something like this:

I have 3 country music songs in my music library of approximately 500 songs.
Loretta Lynn- Coal Miner's Daughter (because it cracks me up to call Jeana and sing it to her)
Rascal Flatts- What Hurts The Most (because for some reason they keep playing it on my regular stations)
Jason Aldean- Dirt Road Anthem (because I have no idea why but I like it)

The other half of me, that country girl, the one who still gets pissed off when people mock her upbringing, the antithesis of all I am today, she's still there. When I remember what it was like to pile into a car with my friends and cruise the back roads on the weekends, a bonfire blazing, the smell of harvest, the harvest party (which is coming up doncha know), I step away from that little girl with the bright lights in her eyes and get home sick as hell.

I have had someone say jokingly (maybe) that I wouldn't know anything about baking the family's angel food cakes because I don't have ovens in my office. I've also had people, not so subtly, indicate that I am somehow less capable of understanding things such as politics and money because I'm a "country bumpkin". I can identify with people on either side of the city limit line, with the exception of that feeling some seem to have that they are better than their counterparts outside the boundaries of their little worlds.

I can teach you how to detassel, identify a milk weed, butcher and clean a chicken, and tell you that if the moisture in the corn is above 15% when you take it to town you're probably going to get docked for it. I can also set up your wireless network, tell you when the best Macy's clearance is, and which restaurants in town have the best tapas. These two women don't spend any time together, but each has spent time wishing they were the other.

Two halves. Not Overlapping. Opposites. The differences far more plentiful than the similarities. But if you put them together... One me. A guy once told me "chicks are such a dichotomy", but I think it's more than chicks. Whether it's your angel side and your devil side, your half-German / half-Hispanic heritage, or something else, many of us are exactly that. How about you?

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Oh, you were serious? Sorry.

"Ask your readers this." my friend said.  "If you could change one thing about your spouse that would make the love making deeper, what would it be?"

I yelled, "BIGGER PENIS!" It flew out of my mouth so fast that you'd have thought I was being timed and there was serious prize money at stake.

"Do you really believe that it's the most important thing?" **** said.

"You said "deeper". If I were a guy I would have said longer vagina, but since I don't have a spouse or a partner, and based on the dry spell and my pretend partner not giving me any attention, I am going to pretend faux beau has a short penis!" I said, a bit too defensively.

What I ended up taking away from this conversation, (aside from the fact that I would be AWESOME at any game show where I had to have the answer quickly oh and that unless I detect sadness in the other person's face or voice I'm going to immediately think the pervy answer first) was that just like any other search done on the internet, people come to blogs looking for all sorts of things, including feedback and advice.

So today I am leaving you with a couple of questions to ponder:

1. If you could change one thing about your spouse that would make the love making deeper, what would it be? You can't use bigger penis or deeper vagina because I already used those. 

2. Why do you blog / Why do you read blogs? 

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Fear of failure keeps me likeable

I'm feeling a bit sassy tonight. Let's pretend we like it when I am a bit defensive and a whole lot of fun, shall we? Moving right along.

A good friend of mine posed an interesting question tonight on Twitter. Before we go any further... this person is a real life good friend that I see regularly and have in my cell phone and on every other possible form of "Hey, I'm having a nervous breakdown about what the hell I'm doing with my life can you talk?" sort of communication. I HAVE FRIENDS OFF LINE DAMMIT! (just wanted to get that out there before "you people" start thinking I don't have a life. Mmkay? 'Kay...) 

So let's stop talking about me and get to the interesting question... so that I can tell you my answers which is going to be about me. This is my blog and I'll say how the show goes. Where was I?

If you were assured you would not fail, what endeavor would you take on? Now I know it isn't a new question, but it was the first time I'd seen it, and I like to believe my friend is all full of new ideas and original thought and you can't stop me so I'm giving credit where I feel like it.

Oh, blogosphere where do I begin? There are so many things I always wanted to do, thought I never could, probably won't try, and am too scared to actually put in motion. Without the fear of failing I would be simply unbearable. I could be anything I wanted to be. I would probably be so full of myself, yes even more so than right this minute, that no one would read anything I had to say because they would all hate me. But wait! There's more! (I've always wanted to say that... not that it fits here)

Allow me to get all listy for a bit?

1. I would write a book. It would be the story of a girl who grew up in the Midwest, married too young, made tons of mistakes, and learned to love herself in spite of herself. Stop me if you've heard this one. What holds me back? What if no one bought it? What if I had to give it away as Christmas, birthday, anniversary, baby shower, graduation, and housewarming gifts? What if my Mom bought a bunch of copies and gave them to all of her friends and they stopped being friends with her because I'm a crappy writer?

2. I would move to another country. Even if it were only for a little while, I would take the chance and experience life in Italy, France, Ireland, Scotland, South Africa, etc. I've lived in Denver, Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota, and I'm planning a move west, but deep inside this Midwest woman is a world traveler just dying to get out. But Blogger? Can I call you Blogger? What happens if I get there and it's horrible and no one likes me because I'm an American and I talk to loud, make bad jokes, dress like a bum, and really just came for the wine? Worse still, what if I ran out of money and I had to sell my body to make ends meet and no one wanted to buy me!?

3. I'd date a local. JUST KIDDING

Where's a rich benefactor when you need one? I would move to another country and write a book while drinking wine and getting to know the locals. In a perfect world it would look something like this.. picture it if you can.

Me wearing a kicky hat,
This would be me in the ladies room at the club/pub thinking, "oh these crazy friends of mine!"

Sitting around with my new international group of friends,

Hot guys courtesy of :
Yes, I'm aware that I picked all guy friends. At least one of them might be into girls. 
Sharing drinks, laughs, and crazy stories.
ooooh that wine looks pretty!

Then I'd hop on my Vespa
I would wear that dress too. Because it's all pin-up and everything I pretend to be.
and do a little shopping before heading back to my quaint, but really well decorated home
Because when I searched quaint international home I got this and I'm keeping it.
where I would open my laptop to write my next best seller.
This makes it look like my book would be as popular as the  Bible and everyone would say they've read it even when you know damn good and well that they didn't. 
So tell me, dear readers.... If you were assured you would not fail, what endeavor would you take on? 

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The 80's called. They want their hair back.

There are times during my work day that I feel like life might be a little easier if I just typed up a quickie letter of resignation and saved everyone the hassle of debating benefits of my continued employment. Those moments are quickly dashed when I remember why I show up in the first place. Money.

South Dakota is a "right to work" state and also a "right to f*ck you over" state. I'm not taking any chances. Well, except this one right here where I am blogging and hoping I don't accidentally answer a potential client question with what I'm typing on the screen. "What does your current infrastructure look like? Are you virtualized on any level or are you just right to f*ck you ove... What?"

So back to not taking chances. It's not only that I'm afraid of not being able to pay the bills. Have you looked at Facebook lately? Twitter? Blogs? I don't mean to shock you, but it's time you knew. People are ASSHOLES. I see it everywhere I go. Some of you work with some pretty horrible co-workers. Your bosses seem to be hardcore slave drivers. Some of you have been coming home in tears! Screw that.

Last Thursday, as I returned from break, yeah again, get off my ass.. So Thursday I returned to find this  sticky note on my screen.

"Hmmm. I don't recall leaving any messages for a Dr. Bellamy." I thought. So I pulled it up in our CRM tool. "Ah ha! Found him. Hmmm. Not familiar."

Go ahead and click it. It won't hurt. 
"I guess it must be mine if he was returning my call." Then I opened his file.

Make it big. You'll want to. 

"Ha. Ha. Freaking. Ha. Very funny." The note in the file was the real kicker though....

Sometimes my hair does get poofy. Screw you. 
Now for those of you who aren't sure what the hell this is about...
Bill Bellamy- Appeared regularly on Def Comedy Jam, MTV Jamz, MTV Beach House
Nina Blackwood- Host of Absolutely 80's a nationally syndicated radio show.
Adam Curry- MTV VJ from the 80's and 90's... you know back when MTV had music... oh and videos.
Martha Quinn- Doctor Quinn Medicine Woman... don't make me explain this to you.

The only thing that could have made this little joke better would have been him using a real # routed to our office with Michael McDonald on the Muzac.

Seven Links - Links and the Nominations

Azra over at Azurah has nominated me for the 7 Links project by Tripbase. The ultimate goal of this project is to get bloggers to dig into their archives and regurgitate those posts that had an impact on the world in some way or form.  I only had one lapse (okay 2)  in choice and in that case I gave you two.  So here we go. Follow along to the end because 7  of you have been chosen to participate.

1. My most beautiful post
 At the Water's Edge was something I’d written a year ago when I finished browsing through some photos of a rare family vacation I was able to take my kids on. They constantly amaze me. The way they see life and the small things that bring them joy and still hold the innocence I see in them is pure beauty to me.

2. My most popular post
If we’re going strictly by stats, it’s definitely I Will Destroy You (and other fun break up stuff). People seem to like to read about the horror of breaking up if you can make it humorous. The fact is that it’s only humorous when you’re:
A) not the one getting broken up with or
B) You have had time to look back on it and see the humor.

But back when I didn’t have many readers I had great success with We don't talk about mustache rides anymore.... This one seems to make more sense. Who doesn’t want to read about euphemisms and sisterly violence?

3. My most controversial post
I totally blow in this category. Either I am totally relatable to most people or I am not controversial enough to drag the drive by blogger into a heated comment war. Since it’s left up to me I will go with Sucking Up To Apple Hard. I chose this one because it was one of my few attempts to use selling out to my advantage. It also didn’t work. I still don’t have an iPod Touch of my very own. Both things piss me off.  One of my best friends decided that my post Fake Empathy and the Man-Woman Friendship was definitely it.

4. My most helpful post
This one is recent and hopeful. A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Blog addresses my own struggle with depression, anti-depressants, and life after. I would like to believe that, like me, someone will read this post and see that depression is not something to ignore, it happens to more people than we know, and far more people than are willing to admit they needed help.

5. A post whose success surprised me
We Don't Use The "F Word" In Public! is a post about being poor and receiving public assistance. More than that, it is about the shame people feel about asking and accepting help and the innocence of children. Why did its success surprise me? It’s simple, many people would prefer to ignore this faction of society and more so… we continue to teach our children that there is weakness in asking for help.

6. A post I feel didn’t get the attention it deserved
I’m Not Looking For The End.. This was one of my kick-off posts. My hope was to address some of my own demons while trying to make sense of a close friends struggle with very troubling issues that were leaning toward suicide. It’s something so many people have faced and no one wants to talk about.

7. The post that I am most proud of
Raising a glass to strong women is dedicated to the strongest women in my life. Contrary to what some might think, it’s not a feminist post… it’s a post anyone with a strong, kind, intelligent, and loving woman in their lives can relate to. The women are also my family.

Alright, we’ve come to the nomination portion of this project. The 7 people I’ve chosen, in no particular order, have given me laughs and reason to stop and think which, let’s be honest… I don’t stop for very often. I can think of about 30 people I would like to send this to, but Azra said it best, “It’s not everyone’s thing.” So the choice is yours. Show us what you’ve got!

Dean at  you know why. Your words and your stories move me. I want to see what you think of yourself. J I know. I know… but it’s an exercise. You love that! Tell me what I need to see!

Becky at I'm just a girl & I've had it up to here Girl, you provide helpful information to all. I’ve also seen things on your site that make me feel (oh GOD… not that way). Break it down for us. 

Pam at Pam-a-rama ding dong  You inspire me! I’ll admit. It started with the photo shoot and now I’d like to see your 7 links! Talk to us, tell us what this nomination makes you feel. 

Fred at The Fred Effect you were the first person to recognize my blog and in doing so… I’ve had a chance to recognize yours. More people should see your work. Let's start now. 

Shane at Wag the Dad  I don’t know what your stats are, but they aren’t high enough in my opinion. Now I’ve linked you publicly and I don’t have to tell my friends to go read you this week. Hey, friends? Go check out his top 7.

Becca at I'm Pretty Sure That Since we’re meeting at the corner of FML for cocktails, I’d like to see before that date what you’ve got in your blog closet.  

Monday, September 26, 2011

A funny thing happened on the way to the blog

WARNING: This post contains no stolen graphics. I'm sorry.

I am an emotional roller coaster. Not right this moment, but stay with me here. The older I get the more the twists and turns and deep dives have begun to settle into small rises and falls. Sometimes it feels like I've just crested a small hill in a fast moving vehicle, but it's not the dramatic drop that causes one to scream with confused exhilaration. I used to be the Mind Eraser at Six Flags. These days I am not exactly the Tea Cups at Disney, but I've definitely got a hell of a lot less hairpin turns. I'm like the Screamer at Adventureland (you only get that if you're from Iowa or nearby... ).

Six years ago this coming December, I had what can only be considered a bit of a meltdown. Fresh from a break up, fresh from the holiday, full of self-doubt, and one day after what had been my wedding anniversary, I woke up in a panic. Panic turned to tears. Tears turned to two days sobbing and wondering if I had finally lost my mind.

I did the only thing I could do. No, I didn't call my mom or my sisters. I did not call my friends. I called acute care. Obviously my eyes were broken. They kept dripping and I couldn't make them stop. Fortunately, a doctor was able to see me and asked me to come right to the office. By this time the sobbing was almost controllable. My face was a blotchy red swollen mess. If it hadn't been for the tear streaks on my face, you would have thought I was on a bender.

When I was called back to the inner office to be seen they ran me through the standard process. Age, medications, temperature, pulse, height, weight... and that's where I lost it again. By the time the actual doctor showed up in the room the sobbing had returned full force. He went right for the heart of the problem... "So what's going on?" (They know how to ask questions that get answers)

(insert incoherent sobbing)

I believe it was out of desperation to get me off of the table and out of the office as quickly as possible that he wrote a prescription for Lexapro. Before too long I was blissfully numb. I smiled more. I didn't cry at all. I stopped yelling when I was angry. That sounds pretty good right? After years of feeling worthless and trying to smile on the outside so that no one would know that I was dying on the inside, I didn't feel anything. It was a welcome respite.

My relationship with anti-depressants lasted about one year. It took me about that long to realize that I wasn't quite addressing the problems that led me to the doctor on that cold December day. Apparently there is a fine balance with medications. Numb wasn't supposed to be the goal.

I can't remember who died, but I should have felt sadness for someone. I didn't. When I realized I had no feelings on the matter whatsoever, I asked myself a critical question... What if it had been someone in MY family. How would I feel about THAT? The answer, "I guess I would cry? Wouldn't I? I think I'm supposed to cry, right? Holy crap.. this isn't right."

I stopped taking the pills that day. It has been a very long road and certainly not one I would advise everyone to travel. There is a place for anti-depressants and it's a choice for the individual and their own doctor who is faced with a sobbing, blubbering mess in the office. I've had to address some things in my life that I had constantly smothered. There are things that I'd buried so deeply that even now when bits of them resurface I am a little shocked, hurt, and scared. Those feelings are fewer and farther between though, so I can't complain.

This is usually about the time I begin my annual freak out. Less than two months to my birthday, and by now I've usually made a mental check list of all my short comings, things I feel like I should have accomplished by now, cataloged every grey hair and wrinkle, and every single wish that hasn't been granted me. NEXT STOPPPPPPPPP PITY PARTY! This year though, that stop has been removed from the route. I found something this year... It's a faint glimmer of peace. Believe it or not, I found it here.

So to all my survivors out there, those of you who are climbing your own mountain, those of you who have made it to the other side, and for everyone who feels like they are finally coming into their own I raise my glass to you. For those of you at the bottom of the mountain looking up and thinking you will never make it, reach up. I guarantee there is a hand reaching out to help.

Words From The Wedding Weekend

What do you get when you combine a wedding party and alcohol? The best of the weekend conversations from me to you...

Overheard at the pre-party: 
Matron of Honor- She said it's not her car. (referring to a conversation about loud mufflers)
Wedding Attendant- Well, she's a liar. She's probably not even GAY!

Call to the honeymoon suite where we dressed for the event: 
Me- So here's what's left in the room: Your black quilted bag, your make up bag, your jewelry box, your VS bag, and a banana. Do you want me to leave the matrimonial banana in case you two wanna so something kinky freaky tonight?
Bride- What?! No. Maybe.

Words from the happy couple's bedroom: 
Me- What the hell happened in here? (clothes explosion)
My niece- Smells like sex doesn't it?!
Me- Uh, that's not what I meant.

Out of the mouths of babes: 
Bride- (Describing the size of a large glass vase being used for the ceremony) Ours is like this big around and this tall. (Gesturing with oddly sexual hand movements)
My niece- You wish, Mom.

I'm not in junior high, but I can play that age if...:  
Handsome friend of the groom- You should come meet some of my friends. We're going to a concert after the dance is done. Come with us.  
Me- Lucky! That sound like fun, but I rode here with my parents. It's a bit like high school. If I'm not in that car in 5 minutes they are going to be pissed!

This awkward moment brought to you by re-dating your ex: 
Me- Are you always this talkative or is this something new? (to grooms friend)
Him- All new. (uncomfortable look)
Me- This must be your son?
Him- Yeah and that's my daughter. (nervous smile)
Blonde woman from the crowd- And I'm his ex wife and the mother of his children.
Me- Nice to meet you! (awkward)

My sister has terrific friends. They were all very warm and welcoming. A big thank you to all of you for being such gracious hosts to our family during the busy time. 

The Unspoken Ultimatum


  [uhl-tuh-mey-tuhm, -mah-]  Show IPA
noun, plural -tums, -ta [-tuh]  Show IPA.
a final, uncompromising demand or set of terms issued by aparty to a dispute, the rejection of which may lead to aseverance of relations or to the use of force.
a final proposal or statement of conditions.

No one likes ultimatums. Feeling like you're being forced to choose when you're simply not ready to do so is an anger inducing experience. Giving someone an ultimatum is often a sure way to get exactly the opposite of what you want. Force someones hand and see how spiteful they get. It isn't pretty.

But isn't life a series of ultimatums whether they are spoken or not? A romantic partner accused me of giving him an ultimatum regarding our "relationship" once. I don't recall ever telling him that there was an either/or situation in play, but perhaps he was right.  By expressing how I felt about him and stating that I am worthy of being loved said volumes about where our relationship was going. He immediately told me he does NOT answer to ultimatums and did not speak to me for weeks.

Though it wasn't said, it was painfully obvious to me that the feelings I shared with him were not mutual and that he believed my statement meant, "I deserve to be loved and you're either going to love me or I will find someone who will". Maybe it did. I still haven't, but maybe it did. All I had hoped was to finally be able to say how I felt and get an idea of how he felt. Perhaps refusing to always settle for less than love, random spare moments, and half-hearted attempts at affection really is an ultimatum... to someone who has no interest in being the person who gets your love.

I recall having a very similar conversation with an ex. He said "Do NOT rush me or give me ultimatums because you will NOT like what you get." That was in response to me asking him if he had any intentions of going back and finishing the divorce he was supposed to have gotten before we first began dating. Was there an ultimatum? No, but if he didn't get the divorce and the relationship could not move forward I couldn't stay.

Maybe it's only an ultimatum when you want to have your cake and eat it too. To me that is exactly how it felt. I wanted to know where I stood. I laid my cards on the table and with them my heart. He didn't have anything to give back and it became his way of telling me I should look elsewhere. Sort of like all of the unspoken ultimatums of the world (progressing through choices), the immediate defensive stance spoke volumes.

I can think of a few other unspoken ultimatums... most people just call them common sense.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Ramblings of the Sleep Deprived

In just 9 short hours I will be home in the comfort of my own bed. There was a moment this morning when I thought about begging my parents to let me ride home with them in their car rather than spending the day in various airports killing time. In the end I opted for the airport. Under normal travel circumstances, I am very observant. I read all of the airport signage, know all of the amenities offered by a particular establishment, and when and where I can get an ice cold beverage at a moments notice. Today is not one of those normal travel circumstances.

My flight leaves Dayton at 4:55 PM EDT. It is currently 1:42 PM local time and I am already at the airport. No, I wasn't worried about long lines and wait times at security. I'm flat out wrecked and there is peace in the airport you cannot and will not ever find in a house with 4 teenagers, a newlywed couple, and pets. It's not what you might think either. They will all likely be napping and I would be scared to death I might fall asleep and miss my plane. This was for the best, even if I am not actually here mentally.

I hate having to wonder about things, especially when I am tired and having a hard time keeping my head together. There are so many places to advertise your wares at the airport. I walked into 2 separate shops here to find a cold drink only to be told that I could get one in their other stores closer to my concourse. It took me another stop to find a place with a travel pillow, and then I felt the last of my energy reserves drain from my body so I sat down. I thought to myself, "I should check my email. I wonder if they have free WiFi here or if I am going to have to fork over cash for that? God, why can't they just make it simple? I guess I'll ask 'Carissa' at the kiosk." Imagine my surprise when she smiled and pointed back to where I'd just been sitting.

I'd been sitting on the third stool. 
The wedding was beautiful, as was the bridal party. Everyone had a good time and as far as I know... everyone is still alive today. There will more to share as the week progresses and my mind returns. For now I'm going to crawl over to the quiet little corner of the gate area, lay out my jacket like a blanket, and take my new travel pillow for a test drive.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Friday, September 23, 2011

Violated at the Airport

There's a special warm feeling I get when I am able to get up at 4:30 AM and share the morning love with a sleeping teenager.

"Knock knock... hey hon can you take me to the airport now?"

"Huh? Wha.. um... wha? No. I mean yeah. I'm up. What?"

"The airport. Can you drive me to the airport now? You can take my car."

"Yeah. Sorry uh... I need to put clothes on."

"That would be good."

I'm packing light today. Unlike a trip to Montreal or California or hell, even Iowa where I would pack 6 days worth of clothes for 2 days worth of visit, I am currently carrying the lightest suitcase I've ever toted. 1 dress, 1 pair of shoes, 1 pair of jeans, 2 shirts, pjs, underw... oh hell!

Crisis averted, they are in the zippered portion of the bag.

I saw the security check in line was rather lengthy this morning, as is usually the case when you travel with all of the other business folk who are trying desperately to get the hell out of Sioux Falls before the weekend sets in. For this place, 30 people in front of you is "pretty deep" for security. But.. I saw my chance for some action. A man in his mid-late 50's was getting a working over. With gloves. Between his legs. The whole nine. FINALLY they are taking this TSA molestation seriously here. So I made my way to the front of the line and threw my belongings on the belt for scanning.... intentionally not taking my laptop out of it's bag and leaving my makeup bag with liquids INSIDE my luggage. I smiled inwardly and headed for the final check point. "Thank you. Have a nice flight."

WHAT.THE.HELL? Racially profiled AGAIN. What, because I'm middle aged and white and wearing heels I can't be dangerous?! That FARMER was dangerous enough for you, but not me? The baby can't keep her bottle of formula, but I can sneak extra shampoo and a full bottle of perfume (okay it's only 1 oz)?

That's when it happened.... "That will be $4.97 Ma'am."


So, I did get violated at the airport, just not in the way I'd hoped. I think that in itself is another form of profiling. If she looks all worky and tired and irritable by not getting fondled AND she buys a can of energy drink at triple the regular price she's OBVIOUSLY a true Midwest-Middle Aged-Non-Offender.

Boarding in a few minutes so I suppose I should close this baby down. I hope everyone has a fantastic Friday and if I don't see ya... an even better weekend!

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Morning Cocktails = Wedding Prep

Today ends my work week and begins true wedding hysteria, well for me anyway. There isn't a single doubt in my mind that my sister has been hysterical for weeks now. I know this because when I called yesterday to make some confirmations, she and our lovely mother were having some drinks and greasy home made fries... before going to lunch. There are three times where all of this is acceptable before the lunch hour is met.

My mom technically isn't on "vacation". For the sake of my blog we're going to call it vacation because she's been there all week, not sleeping in her own bed, to take part in what is to be a fun event. So really it's like a Sandals resort without sexy cabana boys and umbrellas in the drinks. Oh, and it's Ohio. So, Mom... if you're reading, I don't want to hear anything about how you need a vacation for at least like, oh I don't know... a year maybe. You can have one in the spring to come and help me try the wineries when I get moved. Yay you... now get back to work it's way past cocktail time. 

She's really a working girl this week. Her task is to help my sister prepare for the wedding this weekend. Mom will manage the check list and nod dutifully when asked a question to which my sister already has an answer but simply wants confirmation. When things go wrong, she will be the voice of reason. It is for this reason that she is allowed morning cocktails (specifically while I am at work which makes me sort of jealous and sad). There really isn't a better way to cope with this job than to get a little numb and a little silly.

Periods of high stress
My sister is most certainly at this point right now. As she does everything in her power to make sure that this goes off without a hitch, she will certainly need a bit of comfort food. It is also important to note that the comfort food will dull some of the effects of the morning cocktails. If the fries weren't included, both mom and daughter could very well be spending the afternoons in a vodka induced nap. Not much gets checked off the list when you're napping.

Cocktails also prevent the person who is under the stress load from exploding into a manic rage and accusing every single person around them of sabotaging the event.

There are 6 kids being melded into a single family with this wedding. There is bound to be a little drama, a lost shoe or two, someone who can't find their earring, and at least one person who can't get the zipper on something to work. If all six make it through the ceremony Saturday without threat of being sent to the closest orphanage, I will slip them each a fiver and buy everyone a hooker. Okay, I don't know where to buy a hooker or I'd have found a damn date for this shindig. I'll buy everyone a milkshake instead.

There's no particular event needed. You don't have to have PMS, be menstruating, getting married, fighting off a major illness, or under a ton of stress. You've made it through the work week and that in and of itself is cause for celebration. Go ahead and have your bloody Mary for breakfast with bacon and eggs, follow it with a tequila sunrise for brunch, a clam digger for lunch, a nice Redbull cocktail for an afternoon snack, and a martini for dinner. While you're at it, throw in some cheese curds, a plate of nachos from Chili's, and some southwestern egg rolls for good measure. You deserve it. 

Tomorrow I will land in Dayton at approximately 1 PM. I should be reconnected with the Fam about 30 minutes later and met with a nice cocktail of my own. While I'm looking forward to the whole thing, a big part of me is more convinced than ever that I would prefer to elope. So, Mr. Right if you exist, if you're reading this, what do you think about a quickie wedding and a kick ass honeymoon? Or maybe a kick ass beach wedding and honeymoon? How about next week. I'm free.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

I'm On My Deathbed...Probably

Today I want to talk a little about dying. Not the serious kind of dying where people cry. No, this is more about the kind of dying you wish on yourself for doing something you shouldn't have done. I'm not talking about saying nasty things about others and getting caught. It's not the dying you experience when you walk out of the bathroom with your skirt tucked up in your nylons so the whole office can clearly see how you feel about going commando. 

I've only felt this sort of death wish one other time in my life. Back in the spring, anxious to prove that I am young and in shape, I nodded excitedly when Sarah asked me if I wanted to try the Cardio Box class after Yoga. There is not an ounce of shame in my writing when I say that it was a one night stand. I felt like I knew what CB was all about. I pictured myself doing some really awesome Tae-bo moves. I was gonna get all Billy Blanks circa 2001 up in that place! I was prepared to bounce, kick, punch my way to fitness.

 I was not prepared to be yelled at and brutalized. My bad. 

You see, dear readers... Cardio Box is not like Tae-bo at all. It is a series of timed stations where you are required to torture yourself like a medieval monk by cracking your knees into a solid gym floor while you do mountain climbers with slippery furniture moving pads under your toes, jumping in a bent position over stacked aerobic steps, & do various other step combination jumping jack/push-up/vaults, in between running laps. While all this is happening, you are yelled at to "GET YOUR ASS DOWN". It was funny the first time because I felt like I was in a war movie and maybe Tom Hanks would run through and grab me and run me to safety. "I can't leave Angieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"  Tom never came.


About two days later, when I came to when I got out of bed, my body very plainly said to me, "You know what, Angie? F*ck off. Don't talk to me. Don't touch me. Just leave me in the bed you stupid (this is bleeped out for the sake of my non-adult rating)." I felt like I might die, or at the very least lose a limb. Part of me had gone a little numb (thank God that didn't last), and the rest of me felt like I'd been strapped to the rack and stretched to the point of breaking. I soldiered on and promised myself I would never go to a class without first poking my head in to watch a few minutes on an earlier occasion. 

Remember last week when I said my sister is getting married? Well, on Saturday I plan to wear a dress that is fitted, sexy, and while it's black... it is not forgiving of all figure flaws. Sometimes a girl has to be careful to know where that line is between sexy fitted and Mariah Carey refusing to wear a single article of clothing that can cover both her tatas and her cooch at the same time. 

Last week when I tried on my options, I decided that on top of the 12 hour work days I would be keeping a strict exercise schedule. I upped my cardio a smidge and threw in some additional toning. I raised the bar and despite the grinding noise in my knee, I threw in squats and lunges. 

At about 2 AM this morning, it became painfully obvious that I should go ahead and just die. It started with a sharp pain in my abdomen like a muscle cramp that only seemed to occur when I tried to stretch out. This was followed by both of my calves turning to stone and my toes curling into knots. It continued off and on for a few hours, until it was time to get out of bed. 

I knew better and I went ahead and kicked my own ass anyway. All in all it's made me a bit stabby today. The pain in my abs has thankfully subsided for the time being and the muscle cramps in my calves are under control. It has all taken the liberty of settling right between my shoulder blades and has sapped every ounce of energy I have (natural and Monster lo-carb).  I've decided to put off my imminent death until I'm done at work for the day, but please make a note that in lieu of flowers, I'd like male strippers sent to the funeral home. 

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

I Will Destroy You (and other fun break up stuff)

Most people have been through a breakup before. To venture a guess, I'm going to say at least 50% of us have been through a painful breakup. Today is dedicated to the more funny and pathetic things I've heard in breakup fights.

1. I will destroy you. 

This one I like because it's straight out of a Marvel comic. MUAHAHAHAHAHA. I can't help but to picture any of my exes saying that to me. In my mind they would be wearing ill fitting tights and slowly shrinking into oblivion as they shake their fist at me. Seriously, my credit sucks and I pretty much live alone. If anyone said this to me in the future I would have to walk directly up to the dumb ass and flick him in the forehead. 

2. Who are you f*cking?! I will kill them! 

Right. I'm leaving you because I have found someone else who is better in bed than you are. You say that like I don't have SO many other better reasons to leave you. Heck, at this point I might be leaving you for just insinuating that you think I'm stupid enough to tell you who I am f*cking so you can go kill them! Frankly, Sir... that is downright insulting! 

3. You are on birth control pills so you can f*ck EVERYONE! 

Birth control pills are not Roofies. If I wanted to have sex with EVERYONE I would buy roofies. I take birth control pills so that I am never impregnated with your demon spawn. Seriously, I loved you but I've seen how well you did with your own kids. PASS! 

4. I will take everything you have! 

Oooooh sorry. Someone beat you to that already. If you'd like my 401 K, you can check with ABRA auto repair. I do have a nifty set of Ginsu's. Please God PLEASEEEEEE don't take them from me! 

5. You've been faking it haven't you!

Yes. I have. Next question. 

What's the most ridiculous thing you've heard during a break up? 

Monday, September 19, 2011

Blog Most Likely To..... Make you leave this page

Before I sit down and make a list of bogus excuses as to why I didn't update the Blog Most Likely To page last week... I just want you to know it's done. Even though I'm all super busy and terribly put upon by the world, I cared enough to do it. 

Yes, I AM giving myself a button for Blogger Most Likely To Martyr herself for the sake of... oh who are we kidding. I was lazy. I forgot. I didn't get it done until today. Go look! 

Great work Steve and Heather! 

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Collecting People- Not a story about skin suits

In Mrs. Simdorn's 5th grade class we had to make a bug collection. Mine was a bit lacking if I'm being completely honest. I didn't give a damn about bugs. I had one cool butterfly and I pretty much hoped it would carry the project. Not only did it do pretty decent (B), but I'm pretty sure everyone else was super jealous of my Tiger Butterfly. No one ever said anything, but duh, right?!

When we received Scholastic book order forms there was always at least one book in the lineup that was about collecting something. It was usually stamps or coins. I ordered the stamp collecting one because I thought it would make me smarter if I collected something. It would also make me stand out. I would be that girl with the kick ass stamp collection with all sorts of rare stamps. It took me all of about 1 day to realize that the only stamp access I had was through the post office. So I could get the holiday stamps or whatever celebrity stamp had just been released, but so could every freaking other person who ever stood at the counter to buy a mother flippin' stamp!

The most success I've had as a collector is visible on the shelves lining one wall of my room. When there is a law passed against making high heeled black shoes (of any sort), I will stop buying them. Since that doesn't seem likely to happen, my collection will inevitably take me to some sort of hoarder level until someone steps in and makes things normal.

But tonight I'm here to dish with you. I've made friends with another collector. My friend refuses to accept the title, but it stands nonetheless. My friend is a collector of broken people. How do I know? Because I am a broken person. Because I am not the first person to identify the trait. Because it bothers my friend enough for me to know that thought has been put into it to create defensive responses over it.... like a hoarder who refuses to believe they are a hoarder.

The deal is... there is nothing wrong with being broken. As we discussed the issue tonight I did my best to explain my thought process on the topic. Broken is beautiful. Would you be offended if someone said you collected art? Is it wrong to appreciate the lines created by a slightly worn brush? There is beauty in imperfection.

Another friend of mine said once that they're broken and basically held together with a lot of superglue. I've adapted this theory over a few years. Have you ever broken a tea cup? You can put it back together with superglue and it will be back to whole. It might not be perfect, but it will be functional. Have you ever looked at a mosaic? Some of the most beautiful mosaic works are made of imperfect tiles, perhaps broken from tiles once perfectly squared and polished. The colors are varied, the edges are different, but once grouted together... they can be breath taking.

People are not that much different. We break, we fall apart, and we survive. We take our emotional superglue and piece by piece we put ourselves back together. We might not look exactly the same, but we're still functional. We might have a superglue seam... but it's almost certain that we won't break in that spot again. The process makes us whole. It makes us beautiful. I'm not the only one who thinks so.

To my friend out there.... keep on collecting your broken people. If you're lucky, you will have an entire gallery full of broken people one day and it will be the most beautiful collection in the world.

PS. Please do not hang them from walls or stuff them and put them on shelves. That might be taking it a little too far.
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