Nine out of ten...shit happens.

1. TV is back. It is premiere week and I am in heaven. Am I a TV addict? Yes. How I Met Your Mother, New Girl, and The Big Bang Theory are definitely the ones I am most excited about. I do love a good sitcom. (Yes, I realize two of these have already happened)
2. Every year the boy plans a birthday dinner and refuses to tell me where. Then gives me clues, tells me later he has told "five lies" and generally makes me insane. I feel like this is his present to himself. Because it makes me insane. But, the dinner part is always nice. I hate surprises.
3. A former boss of mine at old job lives a few blocks away. A boss I DESPISE. About 60% of the reason I left old job. Ran into him face to face for the first time today. I did the awkward engrossed in conversation with the boy and pretended he didn't exist thing. That is sort of a village thing...you say hi to everyone. You at least do the nod. It was so obvious I recognized him and so obvious I avoided him and I just don't even care. If I would have acknowledged him, I probably would have lost my shit and screamed at him. TERRIBLE. HUMAN. BEING.
4. I have somehow inserted myself into the worst relationship drama ever. I have this friend who was dating two guys when we met...a guy I love, and a guy who abuses her, physically. I have since ceased being friends with her because she keeps going back to the abusive guy and I can't handle it. She thinks it is a sign of love when he hits her. She says that she loves him more than anyone else and doesn't care. I have tried reasoning, there is no reasoning. It is a terrible situation that she CHOOSES to keep inserting herself in. Other guy has turned to me as his personal rock and tells me how hopelessly in love with her he is all the time and I can't really extricate myself from it because I am the only person he can talk to. Guy who hits her...makes a fuck ton of money. Guy who loves her...makes no money. And I just don't have the heart to tell the good guy he isn't rich enough. How do I manage to get myself into these situations??
5. Ben and Kate is turning out to be if Dumb and Dumber was turned into a terrible TV show. With a dumbest thrown into the mix. Not amused.
6. I got a cook arm installed in my fireplace today. This means I can cook food over an open fire. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? Imagine chilli. Or soup in general. Cooked in a cast iron pot over an open flame. DELICIOUSNESS ENSUES.
7. You know how when you learn about something for the first time, then all of a sudden it is all you hear? Krav Maga has become that for me. 
8. There was a conversation about turning on the heat in this house. IT IS SEPTEMBER. SEPTEMBER. No. Just no. I don't care how cold I am, the gas bills of the 101 year old house do not start until at least December. 
9. I am hosting Thanksgiving for the first time ever. I am so excited for non-traditional Thanksgiving I can't even tell you. The next few months of researching and testing recipes is going to be awesome. I already know cornish games hens instead of turkey. Some kind of stuffing...would do oyster if the boy didn't hate seafood. No green bean casserole. No sweet potato casserole. I know some people are going to hate this, but I am so excited for elevated Thanksgiving, I can't even tell you. Who wants to come to chefsgiving?
10. I really don't have a 10. I tried. It was all lame. I have zero, nothing, nada. 9 random things. 

Politics. And Vibrators. Yeah.

I need to vent. About politics. I am resisting everything that I have to keep this shit off of Facebook because I hate that other people do just that. I can't vent at work for similar reasons. Politics are personal and this is my personal blog, so dammit, I am going to just be that person for a minute. And I am not saying these things because I want you to agree with me. I would love for someone to have an intelligent conversation disagreeing with me. I just rarely find people who will intelligently talk about politics. And I feel like I spend all of my time focused on very left wing, liberal media sources because, quite frankly, I agree with them. And whenever I find someone who disagrees with me, they don't answer my core questions honestly. Or at least satisfactorily. 

So, here is what I don't understand. How can a woman, any woman, vote for Paul Ryan? I get that you are actually voting for Mitt Romney. And I get that there are tons of checks and balances in place that will prevent a lot of the hate that he spews to go through, but how can any woman support this?  How can any woman think that rape is just another form of conception? I realize that is not word for word what he says. But to call pregnancy by rape conception is...vulgar. To take something so precious to so many people and to say that violently being forced to have sex and have a resulting pregnancy...to just use the same word for those two things is wrong. Yes, by definition, it is conception. And I really do understand the pro-life point of view. I have never been pregnant, but there is no point in my life where I would have considered abortion. I refuse to make choices for other people, but I know what choice I would always make. Rape is the exception. 

The bottom line, to me, is this; a guy gets to put his dick anywhere he wants to and the woman has to face the consequences. Rapists don't pay child support. They don't get visitation. Frankly, they probably don't even get prosecuted. I know I regret every single day not pressing charges. Most women don't press charges. 

How do we protect ourselves? A barbed wire chastity belt? I mean, seriously. I have the fucking right in this country to choose when I have children. To choose to take contraception. To live the life that I want to live. And I have the fucking right to choose to not give birth to a child if I don't want to. I would NEVER exercise that right, because a part of me is not really behind abortion. The bottom line is that it isn't my place to make that decision for another woman. 

And mother fucker, the last people who should be making this decision is a bunch of men. I know I have previously ranted about this. And I know this is in the top 5 topics you should never discuss in mixed company. But, thankfully, I have no boundaries. Or not so thankfully.

I want Paul Ryan to walk into a shelter for battered women (I have done this) and tell them that rape is just another form of conception (I would never do this) and see their reactions. I want him to look into the faces of women who have been brutalized and raped and feel nothing. To see the void in their eyes. To see a woman completely broken. I want him to tell them that they should carry that child for 9 months when they can barely get out of bed. I want him to tell them that aborting that child is wrong when all they can do is cry.

I don't support abortion is birth control. Or even as a way out of a huge mistake. I really don't. But, desperate people do desperate things. And while, yes, there are women who have abortion after abortion while being reckless, that doesn't discount the women who walk into clinics who legitimately need help. 

And abolishing Planned Parenthood? Just. What? Abortion is a fraction of what they do. A FRACTION. They treat STD's, they do gyno exams for people who can't afford it, they provide birth control, they provide counseling, they are truly an organization that supports women and their sexuality.

Which is what this is all about, right? Women's sexuality. In a culture that is bombarded by sex everyday. Listen up, men. Women like sex too. And we want to have it. And we want to protect ourselves in the process. So, eliminating every circumstance that a woman can have sex with a man without the risk of conceiving a child? Yeah...your dick isn't coming anywhere near any woman in her right mind. 

And I apologize for being so vulgar, but a vibrator is a hell of a lot cheaper than a kid. 

Conclusion: Paul Ryan just got replaced by a vibrator. 

Second Conclusion: Nobody is ever going to read this blog again.

My go to rage today is spoons and Mordor.

1. There was quite the political fight today on a friend's facebook status. I was at work, so I came in 66 comments into it! And I read as one side intelligently argued points. Well, one person on that side was throwing shit out that was pulling the Ryan paid for college with Social Security thing, which is valid since his dad died, whatever. Below the belt. Everyone else was rational. And they were arguing with ONE person who was SHOUTY AND YOU ARE WRONG AND OBAMA IS A SOCIALIST AND NOT AN AMERICAN CITIZEN. Dear everyone, ever...even if I was voting for Romney, your argument would have made me argue against you.. Just like I didn't agree with the chick who pulled below the belt shit out about Ryan. Unless you are talking VALID policy choice and showing me FACTS, stop arguing the point. You are a troll. I can watch political ads too. And I don't believe either side. 
2. I love being busy at work. It makes my day fly by and keeps me moving around and energetic. I do not love being so busy that I work an 11 hour day and forget to eat. I mean, food was ingested. I tried features, grabbed a fry here or there, but definitely did not practice healthy eating habits. So, I came home and ate a cold bratwurst with no condiments, bread, nothing. Just fist and bratwurst. I have never felt more like a kitchen person. Need food. Don't want to cook food. This is food. Eat.
3. The ONLY reason I watch singing shows is for that one moment when I am completely covered in goosebumps, in the middle of blogging, unable to remember what point 3 was because they just grabbed my attention. Do you know how hard it is to grab my attention? Really, really hard. There is always something shinier.
4. Speaking of shiny, there is this new guy I hired at work, which makes the entire lunch team under 5'5". We refer to ourselves as the shire. Anyway, I had to tell him FIVE times to finish making cranberry mayo. FIVE TIMES. I finally said, "Look, Frodo, you are driving me crazy. If you don't finish this shit, I am going to throw spoons at you until it is done." To which he responded, "Oh, shit, I forgot to take my ADD meds." And the day improved exponentially. Which made me wonder what I would be like on ADD meds. Wouldn't it be hilarious if I was suddenly capable of solving complex math problems or some shit? I mean, I doubt it. But I have had more than 5 people at work tell me I should consider it. And, yes, my management technique is awesome and professional. I also threaten to send him to Mordor. Without Samwise.
5. Our house is done. Our house is done. Our house is done. YOU GUYS I AM SO HAPPY OUR HOUSE IS DONE. I am probably going to do another house tour shortly, even though we still have a few things we want to redo. But, we will ALWAYS have a few things we want to redo. So, you may be tortured with this a lot. 
6. Beer Olympics was this weekend and I am 100% positive that if we have room in our backyard after we landscape, that we are going to be doing this every year until we are too old to do it. Oh, wait, that part already happened as evidence of the Erratic shaped dent in our couch from Sunday. But, it was fun as hell. Which is surprising, because I expected with 20 drunk people in my backyard, there would be a little drama. (OK, there may have been an incident where a guy made out with a different girl than he came with, but the girl didn't seem to care that much and he was really drunk and the girl he made out with was really drunk and it was kind of a non event, but also HILARIOUS because all of these people are well over 30. AND I got to refuse to give him her number. BOOM.)
7. Obama was less than a mile from my house today. About a mile from my work. It is not very often I will say I AM SO HAPPY I MISSED OUT BECAUSE I WAS AT WORK. But, shit yeah. Every road ever was closed down. If I would have had to deal with that shit, I just picture headline news: "Woman on edge starts throwing spoons at Secret Service and threatening Mordor. Woman has been institutionalized and is currently NOT stable." I get angry when I have to drive. This requires #spoiled. In fact, the number of times I scream "BITCH GET OFF YOUR PHONE" in a day, considering I only drive 2 miles, is ridiculous. And scary. I may have road rage. Also, I will run over every single one of you people on bikes. Not willing to share the road. Don't care if that makes me an ass hole. 
8. A friend of mine just adopted two brothers and sisters that were on death row in a dog shelter in Kentucky. This will give them five dogs. Big Jed now has four dogs. I absolutely love animals, but you bitches be crazy. I don't think I could do it. Maybe a lot of cats (OH GOD, WHAT DID I JUST SAY?) But, dogs are needy. Now, I will say Big Jed is a much better large number of doggy parent than my other friends, whose animals frequently attack me. No joke. There were marks. But, still. That is a lot of dogs. Like, a lot of dogs.
9. I am doing some serious blog weeding out. I subscribe to an ungodly amount of blogs. And I find myself going through the 500 new blogs I get a day and really only caring about a handful of them. And then just marking as read to the rest of them. Which then makes me feel guilty that I am not reading them. Which then makes me go read a bunch of shit I don't really care about. About a bunch of people I don't really care about. I very highly doubt that any of you fall into that category (you would have to literally never have commented) but if you are, comment. That personal connection makes me care more and I really do want to connect to more blogs. I just haven't been lately. I read them and enjoy them, but I feel like my time is kind of precious and if you are just going to post lists of ten random things, ahem, that is boring. Yes, I know what I did there. If I know you, though, it is awesome. Right? RIGHT? Maybe not. I am part of the problem. LOVE ME.
10. My hand, four days post Krav Maga. The other one looks exactly the same. I have class again in three days and today is the first day I can open and close my hands in the morning without some serious massage and groaning. This week I have to work 6 days, two doubles. If you need me Sunday morning, I will be dead. (I realize this is an odd last post, but the blog wouldn't let me put it in the middle of the list? I don't know. I am too tired and hungry to figure it out. Bratwurst = not satisfying.)

I will kick your ass. In 10 weeks.

I have wanted to take a self defense course for a while now. So, when my friend Nyeski (so weird that I have never mentioned her here) found a groupon for 10 weeks of self defense classes for like $35, we both jumped on it.

The introductory class was tonight. I expected to get an explanation of what to expect, maybe learn some simple things like punching and kicking. Oh boy was I wrong.

The groupon was slightly unclear. Slightly. Nyeski and I walked into a Krav Maga introductory course. Wherein we got our asses kicked. 

Krav Maga is the fighting technique used by the Israeli army. It is definitely self defense. The basic premise is to fight until you can get yourself out of the situation and safe. And they mean fight. There is no fucking around with pepper spray and tazers.

I spent at least 20 minutes mounted over Nyeski (and she me) while we flipped each other off. 

My knuckles look like, well, I got in a fight. I have found 4 bruises so far. BIG bruises. 

I learned how to fight away from under someone. From over someone. How to kick someone so hard that it breaks their pelvis. Or dislocates their hip. I learned how to punch. I had no idea how to punch. I grabbed a total stranger and kneed him repeatedly (into a cushy mat he was holding.)  

I hate violence. That's not what this is. One of the first things he told us was never to use these techniques to start a fight. To never be the cause of violence. Simply to hone what we would instinctively do, so when attacked or in an unsafe situation, we can get away and get safe. 

And you guys, IT WAS SO FUCKING AWESOME. I hate working out. I tolerate running. I tolerate other work out methods. This? This I would do every day. Well, no I wouldn't. Because tomorrow I am fairly certain I will never be able to move again. The groupon included 10 weeks of classes and if I continue to like it as much as I do, I will probably discuss with the boy a way to join permanently. I liked it that much. 

An added bonus was that it was probably the best workout I have had in a really, really long time.

He said to only do what we could and I managed to keep up the entire time, until right at the end, when I quite literally ran out of steam. During the kneeing the total stranger exercise. Who actually asked if I was OK. Which I was. Barely. 

I can't wait until next Thursday. I am kind of dreading tomorrow when all of the soreness comes out and I collapse in a giant puddle of ouch. But, it will be that delicious soreness that means you worked your ass off. 

I really should have posted this yesterday...

Yesterday was a big day for this country. It is a traumatic day for a lot of this country. It is a day of mourning, a day of remembrance, a humbling day. 

I am not going to write a post about 9/11. Well, I am sort of going to write a post about 9/11. This post is totally about 9/11.

Tini posted on Facebook, and I quote, 

"As I read everyone's status updates today, I realize something. Either none of these people really felt the way they're saying when the towers fell, or, the more likely option, I'm just a bad American. I remember being angry that footage of the attacks was monopolizing the air time on like, every channel. I realize that now I would respond differently, that I would recognize the profound impact the attacks would have my country and my people. However, at the time, I just wanted to veg out in front of my favorite after school specials. I'm just being real here."

I don't fault what he said. He was being honest. I believe he was 11 when it happened, so obviously his response is not going to be the same as someone like me, who was days from turning 20. I was an adult. An adult who was devastated and terrified. 

What was also shocking was that most of the responses he got (from his peers...who are his age) were equally indifferent to the day. 

It is surreal to me that someone a mere 9 or so years younger than me can have such a different impression. When we are together, a part of me feels older, yes, but it's not like we don't have a blast. It's not like he isn't a close friend of mine. It is strange that the experience of 9/11 is such a different one. I just assume everyone is as affected as I was. It is strange that this particular day is the first time I have really felt the age in our friendship.

I remember thinking it wasn't real. I remember tears streaming down my face as I watched the second plane hit. I remember being scared to stay in the city and driving to my parents house 30 miles away. I remember watching Air Force One fly over their house. 

Our country was under attack. And it was horrifying. I don't support war. I probably never will, even though I logically understand the reason for it. I don't have an alternative solution, I just don't like violence as a means to end violence. But, on that day, I felt cornered and vulnerable and if someone said, this will never happen again if we go to war, I am not sure I wouldn't have jumped on that band wagon. I would have regretted it, but that day made me feel like nothing I have ever experienced before or after. 

Someone compared it to Columbine and I disagreed. That was teenage boys. This was a terrorist group attacking us. Who knows how many educated adult males willing to die to to bring down our country. To kill our citizens. 

The man who killed Osama bin Laden was interviewed on 60 minutes this week. He was humble and respectful, but the story of finding him, of killing him, left me with chills. It was closure. And as much as I abhor violence, this was a justified end. 

(Yes, the conspiratorial theorist in me doesn't believe a word of it, but the hopeful me wants it all to be true.)

It blows my mind that people I am friends with have little emotional ties to this day. It blows my mind that my children will read about it in history books and never really understand it. 

I suppose my mother feels the same way about the JFK assassination. And generations before about tragedies that happened in their lifetimes. 

I will never, ever forget the feeling of that day. Or how surreal it felt, 11 years later, to find out that not everyone feels the same.

Thrifty and Awkward

I have never been to a thrift store. THERE. I said it. There is no reason why. I just never have. 

I am starting to get more on board with my body. I am just coming to the realization that I am going to look like I do now. Do I love the idea? Nope. Do I plan on continuing to try to do something about it? Yep. Am I going to continually fail at doing those things? Probably. I am OK with this.

With the being OK, I am trying to start finding clothes that flatter my body, rather than hide it. In the grand scheme of things, I am not fat. I'm chubby. And this realization has made me a lot more tolerant of myself. To stop thinking of myself as fat is a huge step for me.

Anyway, so thrift store. I don't have a style. Unless black top, denim bottom, flip flops/ tennis shoes is a style. Because, well, it's not. So, I am trying to find a style that is me. Walking into Old Navy or Target and just grabbing random clothes does not a style make. That is letting someone else determine my style. I don't like that.

I kick started this off last weekend by getting a haircut that I very much like and is very much what I have always wanted but never had the balls to get. It is angled to the front with crazy short layers and super me. I love it.

I AM DIGRESSING. 

So, I went to the thrift store. I had ZERO idea what to expect. I pictured a bunch of hipsters in ironic hats discussing the latest band who hums their entire set. Instead I found a bunch of down trodden people with horrendous taste in clothes. 

So, I am looking through the racks. I didn't even allow myself to look at anything black. I look up and there is this is cute red head with super cute hair across the rack from me. And I am like, yes! This is what I need. I need to get my ques from her, figure out how to work this thrift store thing, because all of the mickey mouse shirts are not really what I am going for. 

I start to both look through the racks and watch her. (I would like to point out that I am about as subtle as a clown on meth.) We end up on the same row and I purposefully move closer to her, careful not to make eye contact or attract any kind of attention. This girl is my in! She is going to unknowingly show me the way. I decide to chance a glance and HOLY SHIT, Y'ALL. I was wrong. I was so wrong.

This woman is wearing these jeans.

With suspenders hanging down in the back. They were dingy on a good day. She topped this look off with a very plaid, very polyester shirt. It was shiny. My interest went from finding someone to unknowingly show me the ropes to HOLY SHIT LET'S WATCH THIS TRAIN WRECK UNFOLD. 

Unfold it did. Her boyfriend, Warren, was also there, unbeknownst to me. She is yelling, "Warren!", and holding up things that I was audibly laughing at earlier. A shirt with shoes all over it. A white dress shirt that had a built in tie. A plaid shirt that quite literally impaired my vision permanently. 

Then. Oh, there is a then, she started putting layer after layer of clothes on. And twirling in the aisles while wearing them. By the time I left, she looked like one of those airline commercials where they don't want to check their bags and instead put all of their clothes on. Except it was ALL polyester and all hideous. 

I actually overheard her say, "This is so ugly nobody will ever buy it. I must have it."

He was wearing a shirt that just said "pussy."

Afterwards, I met some friends for a drink and they told me that was absolutely not the thrift store to go to and then directed me to a different thrift store that has awesome clothes and a way better hipster: possibly homeless ratio.

Word. I am so going to make this happen, no matter how many awkward red heads I have to accidentally emulate. 

This started as a live blog of The Voice??

Today I...

Almost live blogged The Voice.

Returned a large portion of a gas pump to an attendant who glared at me because, apparently, leaving it on the ground was the right answer.

Found out someone in my bosses life died, but not whom it was. Who it was? That baffles me. Grammar fail.

Got pissed off at Time Warner.

Got really pissed off at PNC Bank.

Fought with the decision to choose whiskey or not choose whiskey. I chose whiskey. 

Worked 10 hours.

Had someone walk into my backyard (which is unlocked due to workers) and run off when I said, "hey baby," thinking it was the boy. Level of boy paranoia? 740987490871329843

Haven't slept since Saturday night, so I am just not going to count that day, but I am exhausted. And whiskey. So, you know, QUEEN OF RATIONAL.

I am happy. I am healthy. I am not depressed. I have fought depression. I think I still fight depression. Happy and Healthy. That is a thing for me. If I have those two things, I am good. I can get through anything with Happy and Healthy. I guess it is my mantra, though if anyone of you ever tells me that YOU have a mantra, I will mock you incessantly. As I expect you to do to me in return. 

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. I have, kind of been suicidal. Not realistically. More of the I am so unhappy I need someone to notice me variety. I have never truly considered taking my own life. I realize what I just wrote, but I was a kid. I won't hold that against me. 

There are kids that are REALLY there. There are adults that are REALLY there. People consider it every single day. And commit suicide every single day. I just want to share some links that mean something to me. I may not touch a single person. Maybe I will touch one. Who knows. But, I don't care if I have ever met you. I don't care if you are 1000 miles away, I will be there. I mean that. Truly.

http://thebloggess.com/2012/09/today-and-forever/

http://www.hopeline.com/

http://www.noh8campaign.com/

Nobody is normal. And nobody should be afraid of who they are. Much less ashamed. Unique is beautiful. 

Most days I need to believe my own words for me, and I get that. But, I really fucking believe them for all of you. 

Demolition Zone

I am so sick of our bedroom. I can't even tell you how sick I am of our bedroom.

Construction started. Which is awesome in the sense that it is getting fixed. Not so awesome in the sense that our house is a total disaster. TOTAL DISASTER. Our  living room is in our dining room. The man loft is in our bedroom. Everything is covered in tarps and there is so much dust that I am taking allergy pills like candy. There are flies everywhere from doors being propped open. Which means I have an insane homicidal cat losing his shit trying to catch all the flies. Right now. Must. Kill. Flies.

So, the boy and I have pretty much been holed up in our bedroom for three days. My entire body hurts from laying in bed. Because there is nowhere else to go. When the guys are here working, the living room is covered in tarps. And I don't want to get in the way.

This is the progress thus far. As you can see it is slow going. And they are going to have to rip out the built ins and rebuild them because the fireplace sticks out so far now. Which is cool, because now we can floor to ceiling built ins. But, dear lord. I just want it over.

The taped off family room. And the living room in the dining room. My new home away from home at night when the guys aren't here. 

And did I mention that we can't turn on the air conditioning because of all of the dust? 

Only one more week. I can survive one more week.