Tuesday, August 28, 2012

I have met my match

Before you do anything, and I mean anything, please click on this link and read the customer reviews. I am dying laughing right now and I posted it on Facebook, but some of you don't know me in IRL and therefore have not had this experience. You must have this experience.

Today has been all kinds of awkward. Mostly because I am all kinds of awkward. I have a tendency to blurt out really personal things to total strangers. Not personal, like, hey, I just peed and it smelled like asparagus personal. Just things that are too personal for the casual exchange of, say, receptionist at doctors office talking to patient. They had to update my medical records today at the doctors office and asked me if I was allergic to anything. To which I replied olives and awkwardly laughed. Then I said, but not olive oil. And then I felt this thing click in my brain, which we will call the overexplaining gene and I went into a 15 minute story about how I found out I was allergic to olives and how funny it was and OH MY GOD I AM ALLERGIC TO OLIVES. 

I saw it coming. The awkward silence that would follow the too much information vomit of the mouth I was spewing at this poor woman. It was the gyno's office and my vagina is definitely not going to ingest olives. There was ZERO reason for me to tell her this. Yet, here I am, rambling on and on. By the end, I heard crickets chirping in my head and felt my face starting to flush in embarrassment when the ultimate awkward conversation move was pulled. 

After I finish rambling, she says to me, "My car changed from kilometers to miles and I can't figure out how to change it back. Has that ever happened to you?" 

I blinked approximately 7 million times and responded, that no, that has never happened to me. She then proceeded to tell me that Google hadn't helped and that she didn't want to take it all the way back to a dealership to fix it. 

I am obviously still stunned and respond that she should just to go any Acura dealership and just ask. Which started a very long tirade about how nobody wants to help anyone anymore without getting paid. 

I politely smiled and sat down to fill out my paperwork. 

Well played, receptionist. Well played.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

I cannot believe I used the phrase hustle and bustle

Today at work we were talking about what we would do if we won the lottery. We have this conversation often, sitting on the back step while the boys chain smoke and I read all of your blogs on my iPhone. 

"I would buy an island and bring a tent, a lawn chair, and a cooler and none of you ass holes would ever see me again."

"Buy every power tool in the world and make stuff."

And it goes on. Ridiculous lifestyles that none of us would actually follow through on. Being the mother hen that I am, I insist everyone get serious. I want to know, truthfully, what would you do. I discovered that none of us would really change much. Yes, we would all travel more, maybe buy bigger houses, but the desire to have some lavish lifestyle was definitely not there. 

As stoop conversations tend to go, it lead to debate on living in the country versus living in the city. One guy insisted there was no way he would ever live in the city. Too much noise, too many neighbors, etc. Another guy said he didn't give a crap as long as he had beer and a lawn chair (I am sensing a theme.)

I was trying to explain my discomfort with the country, how it makes my skin itch to be so far away from civilization and I couldn't find the words. Then I read this blog and that's just it. The country is loud. The sounds of the city soothe me. I feel safe surrounded by other people. In the middle of nowhere, I feel vulnerable and exposed. And I can't walk to a bar. 

All those years ago when I bought that condo in the suburbs I expected to get married by 25. Have kids by the time I was 27 or 28. I would work 9 - 5 and drop the kids off at daycare and pick them up. That is who I was. But I'm not that person anymore. And I outgrew the suburbs a long time ago. I love the idea of walking to the grocery store and just being in the hustle and bustle of the city. I like being in the center of the activity, not in a suburb looking in on it. Or, even worse, in the country where I can't even look in. 

My two best friends live the lifestyles that I am describing and I have to say, that sometimes I am envious of Krackle and her perfect suburban family. Or of Big Jed and her perfect country seclusion. Yes, sometimes I wish I had those things. Grass being greener or some shit. But, being in the city, finally being here, has made me realize I don't ever want to leave. Even if my grass is dead. Which it totally is. Who needs green grass anyway?

So, if I won the lottery, I would definitely quit my job. I am not one of those people who is like, oh, I'd still work. Eventually, yeah, I would want to work again. But I can find a whole lot to keep me busy that is a lot more fun than working. Like seeing the world. I would fix up our little house and rent it and buy one of the big houses downtown on the park. You know, the million dollar ones. 

I would start several non-profits. An animal sanctuary that I would hire Big Jed to run. And she would be paid well so she could quit her day job and just play with puppers all day.

I would start a program that worked with kids and adults teaching them how to cook with inexpensive vegetables at the grocery store. Like Kale. DO YOU KNOW HOW CHEAP KALE IS???? I would definitely run this one. I would go all Jamie Oliver on the school systems around here. I would become a food advocate, if there is such a thing.

I want to say I would travel the world, but I wouldn't want to leave Short Dog and Neil for that long. So, definitely some travelling, but I would have to figure out the pet part of that equation. 

I would pay off my families houses, cars, etc. Nobody would have any more debt. I WOULD PAY OFF MY STUDENT LOANS SO SALLIE MAE WOULD NEVER HAVE TO CALL ME AGAIN. Then I would buy Sallie Mae. And blow it up. OK. I probably won't do that last part. But, shit I want to.

I know I wouldn't become one of those people who had things, but whose life was empty. 

What would you do if you won a million dollars?

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Working in a kitchen is the best thing ever. Alternate Title: I'm sorry

  1. Dooce tweeted the greatest tweet of all time. And I quote. "At least they aren't making you drop your pants unwillingly. "@ToddAkin: I apologized but the liberal media is trying to make me drop out."
  2. There are two guys at work who are both under 5"5'. With my 3 inch raised kitchen shoes, I am taller than them. I am short. So, you can imagine the jokes about The Shire are endless. And I mean, endless. I call them Frodo and Samwise. Today one of these gentlemen confessed that his sisters call him Dildo Faggins. I laughed so hard I was choking as tears ran down my face. I sincerely hope that all of you find this as hilarious as I did. Yes, the term fag is offensive, but dear lord, the hilarity. I also hope this isn't a "you had to be there" situation. I also also hope that you get the LOTR reference. Pardon my dorkdom.
  3. Our new whole home DVR system stops what you are watching if two shows start recording. And if you go back to start that show that was so rudely interrupted, it starts at the beginning. I don't know why I am telling you this other than it  JUST happened and it pisses me the fuck off.
  4. Dildo Faggins. I am cracking up all over again. The boy didn't even crack a smile. Is there something wrong with me? 
  5. While trying to determine if Dildo Faggins was already a porn star, we stumbled upon many an interesting video and image. My favorite being a diagram on how exactly to insert a hershey kiss in your ass. I have yet to figure out when this would be useful, but you guys, if you need to know...I now possess the knowledge on how to correctly insert a hershey kiss in your ass. (I CAN'T UNKNOW THIS.)
  6. I love Matthew Perry. I can't help it. I have seen all his movies. Something about that man just cracks me up. I also am quite a Friend's fan, him being my favorite character. Please still love me. Not for the friend's thing. Just the obsession with Matthew Perry thing. Does it get better than "The Whole Nine Yards" or "Three to Tango?" Ooh! Or "Fools Rush In." Those are all terrible movies. I don't blame you if you stop loving me.
  7. The word Amazeballs needs to stop being a thing. As I clearly told Facebook earlier. Just. No.
  8. I really don't have a number 8. I feel like I should have stopped at 7.
  9. This post was influenced by wine.
  10. Matthew Perry just said "I Kaiser Soze'd you" on his new show and one of my favorite people just met one of my favorite moves and HOLY FUCKING AMAZING. I had to google how to spell Kaiser Soze. 
There is a distinct possibility I shouldn't post this. Fuck it.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

My uterus has it's own brain, apparently.

So, this happened. And I apologize, but You Tube was being an ass hole and wouldn't let me embed the video, so I am just adding the link to the article. You are going to need to read it for the rest of this to make sense.

I am not going to go too much into this because, frankly, I feel like it is so obvious it doesn't even need to be said. Clearly, I am wrong. When did a bunch of white haired old men get to make decisions about my body and my reproductive rights? If you don't like the concept of birth control, fine. Don't take it. If you think the morning after pill is wrong, don't get a prescription for it. If you think that abortion is wrong, don't have one. If you don't like the idea of same sex marriage, then don't marry someone of your sex. The foundation of this country was built on the concept of agreeing to disagree. Land of the Free and shit. FREEDOM TO MAKE OUR OWN DECISIONS. You don't have to like it. 

But if you fucking think for one fucking second that a woman's body can prevent pregnancy in the case of rape, you are a fucking fuck idiot. You shouldn't be a politician. Your JOB is to be informed when having conversations on public television. And the bottom line is that there is absolutely no fucking way a woman's uterus can tell the difference between consensual and nonconsensual sex. THAT DEFIES LOGIC.

I don't give a fuck what political party you back...I really don't. If a democrat had said this I would be just as pissed. If this man gets elected, I am seriously going to consider never going into the state of Missouri again. 

Oops. I ranted. 

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Please don't hate me because I rant.

You know how there is NOTHING  more annoying than someone who bitches about Facebook while still actively remaining on Facebook? I am about to be that person.

Facebook changed. Not because they updated something and don't have a dislike button. I guess I should rephrase that. Facebook users changed. And I don't know what happened because I didn't change. I still post videos of my coworkers eating 50 McDonalds nuggets in 10 minutes. I still talk about mundane things and check in at random places. (By the way, if you ever check in at my house, it is Neil's Sausage Haus. Bad. Ass.) This is what I like about Facebook. 

"Ooh, so and so is at that new restaurant. I should text them and see how it is."

"Ooh, so and so is just down the street, we should pop in and say hi."

"Ooh, Erratic is at home drinking on the couch again. We should judge her."

I like the mundane stuff, the funny stuff, the whatever. I enjoy the brief snip its into my friend's lives. I enjoy the pictures of my friend's kids. This allows me to watch my cousin's twins grow up while being 3 hours away. You get to catch up without making a zillion phone calls a day. 

That is not my Facebook anymore. I blocked several people because of their INSANE politics. Like, Obama is a Muslim terrorist and we should all be doomsday prepping politics. I just can't. 

What is really getting to me is the re-posting of various pictures with little phrases. Yes, the old school post cards were funny. The first time I saw them, I laughed. Now I want to kill myself. The political ads. And, Obama, my dear, I BLAME YOU. BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL IN YOUR FAVOR. I get it. Social Media won you your first election. I understand why you are doing it. What I don't understand is why my FRIENDS are doing it. Just. Fucking. Fuck. Stop.

What set me off today is someone re-posted a quote about Monsanto's genetically modified corn causing cancer. Now. I am not a huge Monsanto fan. And I apologize to one of my favorite people who is reading this and works there, but I am actually about to stick up for Monsanto. I will give you all a moment to digest that.

If it was proven that Monsanto corn was causing cancer, it would not be on the market. EVERYTHING IN EXCESS IS HARMFUL. If you are shoveling high fructose corn syrup or corn byproduct made from Monsanto GMO seeds into your mouth at an alarming rate, guess what, that's not Monsanto's fault. That is yours. You choose to eat the processed food that most of the corn grown in this country goes to. Those corn fields you see on the side of the road, not for corn on the cob. They are for ethanol fuel and corn by product. Promise. Yes, the corn you are eating in the grocery store probably stems back to Monsanto because, frankly, they have the market on GMO corn. If it wasn't GMO, the grocery store sure as fuck would mark it heirloom and charge an arm and a leg for it.

So, unless you have some sort of odd corn addiction where you are liquefying and mainlining that shit, you're good. Where you're not good? That Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and hot dogs you are eating. I challenge all of you to read every label just once when you go to the store. Almost everything processed has corn and/or soy byproduct in it. That's where the problem is. 

Now. I realize that I have very strong opinions about food. It is my job to have those opinions. Do I always practice what I preach? Fuck no. Do I try really hard? Meh. Mostly. But, I don't make any of YOU practice what I preach. Yes, on my personal blog, I rant and rave about this shit because it's my blog. Mine. My space to vent my feelings to people who I know will support me even if they don't agree with me. And if they don't? They don't have to read it.

On Facebook? It's awkward. It's not the place. Facebook should be light and fun and stupid You Tube videos. It should be pictures of babies and cats and dogs and vacations and check ins and trivial bullshit. 

Don't push your politics on me. When Obama was last elected, I admit to going a little crazy on Facebook and I later regretted it. I alienated some people. I won't make that mistake again. Unless I am drunk. Then, I might. Everyone has a right to THEIR opinion. It's what this country was founded on. And this country is losing sight of that. Do I judge you if I see a cart full of chips and soda in the store? Yep. I sure do. I look down at my vegetables and fruit and meat and grains and feel superior. But, I don't try to change that. I don't try to get laws passed that will prevent you from buying nothing but processed foods. I let myself have my smug little moment and I move on. I wish that people were better at that. ESPECIALLY on Facebook.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

If you follow me in Instagram, you already know I had an awesome weekend.

This post is going to be a short explanation followed by a ton of pictures. This weekend we went to Lake Erie to stay with some friend's parents who own a house up there. The boy and I were tentative. We didn't know the family at all and the guys aren't really that close. Or weren't, I should say. The weekend was AMAZING. He failed to tell me that his parents had an ENORMOUS, BEAUTIFUL house on the beach. And a boat. And that they were the coolest parents that ever were.

His mom, upon meeting me, made me sit down and tell her everything about me. She literally said, "Start from the beginning, how did you get to Ohio, how did you become a chef, I want to know everything now." Because she wanted to get to know me. And she listened and asked questions and it was so refreshing. She cracked me up the whole weekend with her "what's going on, what's happening" in this impatient way that made me tell her immediately. I can't explain it; she was just awesome. And his dad was calm and stoic, but also extremely interested in getting to know us. One of those people who you chance a glance at and he is hanging on every word, although not saying a word, with a grin on his face. Love it.

You can tell that he had one of the best childhoods anyone could ever ask for. The stories they told were amazing. They DID things. They got hurt and rode wave runners and drove boats and are inseparable to this day from the kids they grew up with. It made the kid inside of me so jealous it hurt. It seems my childhood of reading books and playing barbies just didn't seem to add up. Inadequacies aside, it was one of the most relaxing trips I have ever taken. And I want to go back right now.

Now for the pictures.

This was our room in the apartment above the garage. The fridge was stocked with beer and water. They even had q-tips sitting out in the bathroom. I felt so pampered.
 This is the view from the balcony on our garage apartment (they call it the Seaver Suite.) How jealous are you right now? Their gardens were beautiful.
 This is the beach directly off their patio. I am currently looking in the direction of Cleveland. 
 Our home away from home.
 The view from the beach. This is the front of the house, which I was reminded of repeatedly. REPEATEDLY. Apparently it's quite insulting to call the street side the front. You know, the side with the FRONT DOOR. (I clearly didn't take to this little custom very well.)
 This is BB, the neighbors cat. He made me a Manhattan (the neighbor, not BB) and told me stories about his misspent youth. He took us out on the boat Sunday morning. I haven't been on a boat in at least 15 years. It was exhilarating. And he was one of the coolest men I have ever met. There is apparently a saying, "there are people who know him, and people who don't. I feel sorry for the people who don't." I will definitely be saying this. Often.
 Everyone has to have the picture of the feet in the water on the beach, right? What you can't see is my now even darker flip flop tan. And, no, I do not paint my toenails anymore. I AM SLOWLY TURNING INTO A BOY.
Sunset on Saturday night. Everyone said this is the calmest the lake has been in years. 

We made a bonfire and then proceeded to make smores. 
 There are two brothers that live about 6 houses apart and they were having dueling fireworks. 

 Sunrise Sunday morning. The boy took this because we all know that I was up until 1 am drinking beer by the bonfire and was clearly still in bed. 
 Traffic jam on the way home. Then we missed our exit and had a 20 mile detour to get back on track. And I bruised my tailbone at some point during this whole trip and was in some serious pain the whole time. But, fuck it, it was still the best weekend I have had in a long time and I wouldn't change a damn thing.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Hookers, Harry Potter, and No More Dead Puppies

Sometimes it is hard to get out of your own pile of shit. It's hard to realize there are other people out there with their own problems, because you are buried so far underneath your own. My work is so shitty right now because we are understaffed. I am inconvenienced because the insurance adjuster keeps going on vacation and not approving our claim so we can start construction. My wine glass is empty and I don't want to walk to the kitchen. 

It's easy to fall into that hole of self pity and just wallow there, with a bottle of wine and reality TV. I mean, I guess that is how you would do it. If you had money for bottles and didn't have to buy boxed. Ahem.

I am completely guilty of this from time to time. I found myself in a full on wallow today. I could practically feel the whining as it came out of my mouth. 

Then my coworker started telling me about the problems he is having with mold in his basement, his wife isn't speaking to him, and so on. It snapped me out of my funk and made me realize that I need to stop being so damn negative all the time. There is no reason for it. I am not a glass half empty kind of person...I am a the glass is not only half empty, but it is filled with rat poison and dead puppies kind of person. Some bullshit I keep telling myself about if you expect the worst, you never get let down. Yes. I realize that I just wrote the first chapter to every self help book ever in that one sentence. I SO GET IT. I am trying. I will never be that chipper person who has sunshine-y thoughts all the time and shits out rainbows. I hate those people. Maybe because I wish I was like them, maybe because they are so fucking annoying I want to beat them senseless with the rainbow coming out of their ass. This is what the therapy I can't afford is for. 

I am trying to expect the best and not the worst. To see the best, and not the worst too. I am trying to trust that people aren't always going to fuck me over. But it is hard. And when met with hard, I usually call it's bluff with a bottle of wine and a book I can get lost in for a few days. 

Do you ever wish that you could have some sort of helmet you put on that allowed you to live the book while you read it? Somebody needs to invent that shit right now because, you guys, I would never stop reading Harry Potter. I would probably be committed.

Scratch that...nobody invent this. Unless insane asylums allow wine. Then I'm good.

I have no idea what happened to this post. 

On a side note, the girl I picked up on the street, who we are now calling hooker, is kind of awesome and is so going to be my new BFF. Or murder me. Even if she does keep insisting she is not going to murder me. But, wouldn't all the psychopaths say that?

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

If you have a penis, you probably should skip this post

I stopped taking birth control. One reason is because I can't afford it. Like, not even close. I have not investigated what Obama's new healthcare shit means in all of this yet, but I am hoping it means that I can afford birth control. Because, you guys, I am about to give you way too much information.

I didn't have my period for three months. THREE WHOLE MONTHS. This is awesome in the, hey, didn't have to deal with that shit way, but it SUCKED in the I just spent more money than birth control costs on negative pregnancy tests and panic attacks. I finally got my period and have had it for over three weeks. I don't know what this means. It means I am about 20 seconds from killing everyone ever. I am already anemic and get worse when I have my period. Right now, if you look at me wrong, I will bruise. I am so tired and every muscle in my body hurts. I want to jump off a cliff.

The boy and I had to stop at the store for my FIFTH AND SIXTH BOX OF TAMPONS and he disappeared as I was perusing the selection and returned with wine. Yep. I need that. A lot of that. Can I mainline that? ALL THE WINE.

Now, I have been on birth control since I was 17. So...I really don't know what my normal cycle is or what this means (all you IF/TTC ladies have me kind of freaking out.) Nor do I really want to at this time. If/when I decide to procreate, I will deal with it then. That may be irresponsible, but whatever. I am not adding the stress of if I am able to conceive children to my life when I am not actively trying to conceive children.

The most important lesson I have learned from all of this is: GET BACK ON BIRTH CONTROL RIGHT THE FUCKING FUCK NOW. This leaves few options. There is Planned Parenthood, but dear lord, I am almost 31. Am I even allowed to do that? A nurse told me that there are gynecology clinics that I can go to that are cheaper. But, this all feels, so...dirty. Doesn't it? Or do I just have NO idea what these places are really like? I picture an old run down building and doctors that nobody else will hire. I have no idea. I have always had health insurance and have used the same gyno since I was 17 and went on birth control. I am not sure I want anyone but her all up in there. Ugh. 

So, ladies I need all of you to tell me the story about the time you had to go to one of these less than stellar gynos for black market birth control. Please tell me there are some of you out there. Or I am going to have to spend a small fortune to go to my regular gyno PLUS take a morning/afternoon off work to do it. Which, I will not get paid for.

It's times like these I wonder why on earth I got into this industry. On a related note, how are dental clinics? Because I am about to discover that too. 

I feel like I did everything all backwards. 

Sorry about all the lady parts talk. BUT THREE WEEKS. I am a woman on the edge over here.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Apparently I am becoming a lesbian

Today was kind  of amazing. My dad and stepmom picked up the boy and I and we went to brunch at this really cool restaurant that sits on the river. The weather was perfect, the atmosphere was gorgeous, and the general manager is a friend so our bill went from $111 to $57. It pays to work in this industry sometimes. Well, it barely pays. But the perks are nice. 

Then we had a lazy afternoon and the boy and I walked to our favorite spot for dinner and beer (they have happy hour from 11 - 7 ALL WEEKEND) and walked through the park and back home. This is why I never blog. I am out DOING things instead of sitting in the suburbs wishing I was out doing things. Honestly. This day never would have happened three months ago. It was the epitome of everything I want from living in the city. 

During dinner, we were discussing our single friends and the following conversation happened:

TB: Last night a friend asked me who I would let you become a lesbian with.

Me: Who you would let me become a lesbian with?

TB:Yeah (totally missing the point of me emphasizing "let")

Me: I cannot wait to hear this.

TB: Well, I originally said Krackle, but her name is the same as your sisters and that weirded me out.

Me: Um. OK? Because this is a very realistic conversation.

TB: So, instead I went with that new girl you picked up on the street and that girl you work with.

Me: The lesbian that I work with?

TB: No. The other girl.

Me: The very straight very married one?

TB: Yes. Well, it's not like this is actually going to happen.

Me: Clearly. Why did you have this conversation again? 

TB: It's just hypothetical. 

Funnily enough, I was aware of that.

On a very lesbian note, Big Jed and I have been texting back and forth about the lack of ample boobs on the beach volleyball team. I sent a text that actually said "fuck those bitches and their itty bitty titties." To which Big Jed responded "cunt rags, all of them." This is why we are friends.

And for the record, it would so be Big Jed or Krackle if I went lesbian. But the other two chicks are pretty hot too.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

You should probably just not read this.

The boy just looked at me and said, "Are you ever going to blog again?" Well, fuck. Yes. Of course I am. I have spent the past few days trying to come up with something, anything, to blog about. I have nothing. I always feel weird just updating everyone and I don't know why. I totally understand that some of you care about that, but some of you want to be amused. I read A LOT of blogs and get annoyed about the update posts. No, that's not true. I get annoyed about the update posts of people who I don't care about. 

Ugh. I am doing a terrible job of explaining all of this.

I had like 6 drafts composed, then my laptop had a nervous breakdown, which I thought was a virus, which wasn't, in fact, a virus. I blame my grandmother checking her AOL account on my laptop. 

Dear 1992,

TAKE YOUR AOL BACK. And make my mother and grandmother switch to gmail.


Fuck. This is so an update post. I apologize in advance for the crippling boredom that is my life.

I am good. Maybe bordering on great. Everything is status quo.

My house is about to be a fucking disaster area due to rebuilding the fireplace, chimney, replacing the roof, etc. My allergies from all the dust in the air are making me want to murder puppies. Somebody told me that sneezing is a tiny orgasm, to which I told them, fuck off. If that is the case, I have had, approximately 7 billion tiny orgasms over the past few days and my sore back and raspy voice are just not sexy. Or orgasmic. 

I am a little upset about work. Two people that I got jobs there kind of screwed me over. Well, one of them screwed me over, one of them just saw a better monetary opportunity and took it. In the same week. So, the two people I brought on at my current job are leaving. One of them no called, no showed and the other put in two weeks. Within days of each other. I feel like a giant ass hole. And everyone is making a point to drive that feeling home, making me feel worse. The person who no called, no showed I no longer consider a friend for many reasons. The main being, you just don't do that to friends. A part of me thinks I am overreacting, but I was his boss and his friend. I feel like I was betrayed twice and I guess I just don't particularly feel like forgiving both transgressions.

That fine dining restaurant is pretty seriously recruiting me and saying no is becoming harder and harder. I hate the idea of working for corporate anything. It makes my stomach turn. But if they don't stop with the money, I may cave.

Now I feel like a giant ball of negativity. Agh! 

I am happy and shit. Promise. Just the biggest case of writers block ever? Thankfully I am not dramatic and I never exaggerate.