Spring Break… You Dirty B*&%@# March 23, 2012

What the hell is everyone doing?  No, I’m serious, what is everyone actually doing?  I’ve been on spring break for 8 days now.  8 days.  As a teacher, it is one benefit we reap every year in March.  10 days with no students, no assessments, no crazy parent emails (well, actually those keep coming, I just choose to ignore them during my hiatus), and no stress.  With 8 days down and 2 to go, I’m feeling stir crazy and just want to know what everyone else is doing to occupy their time.  Until I can figure that out, let me tell you about the wild shenanigans I’ve been up to.  Brace yourself…

Days 1-3 my parents visited.  I moved approximately 3.5 hours from home (yes hours, not miles, I cannot read a map to save my life and would easily die on Survivor before being voted off first by my tribe) so when they come to visit it is always a fun time.  We went downtown to see the big St. Patrick’s Day parade.  My dad grabbed for my mom’s hand upon seeing multiple “weirdos” as he called them.  “Where the hell are you taking us?” he asked.  After convincing them that this parade is supposed to be really cool and worth our time, we stayed and sat on a curb for an hour.  I tried to keep conversation rolling to pass the time, but it was clear they weren’t exactly impressed with my itinerary thus far.  Finally, the first few floats (well more like large party buses) drove by and were filled with screaming, and I’m assuming drunk, people.  Mom began to enjoy herself as she screamed for beads as each float, er, bus passed by.  She had several within a few minutes and was smitten.  An hour or so passed and my parents rolled up our blanket we were sitting on and promptly announced they’d had enough of the drunken people screaming and were ready to go.  We left.

Day 4 began with my friend calling me around 10:00 screaming, “SPRING BREAK 2012 BITCHES!!!”  A little groggy having just woken up only minutes ago, I managed a small, “Woooo.”  I looked down at my baggy pajamas and tried to run my fingers through my bed head hair.  Spring break wasn’t off to a great start this week.  If only I was hanging out at a swim up bar with my girlfriends in a cheetah print bikini taking body shots off some guy named, Brad, whom we had just met and claimed to be producer for MTV.  Now that would be a real spring break!  “Hello?”  I shook my head as my friend brought me back to reality.  “Oh sorry, I was just trying to figure out what to do today,” I said.

Days 4-6 were filled with my attempt to be a 1950’s housewife.  I am a pretty big feminist so this was big for me, and very exciting for my husband!  I’m sure you heard of Pinterest by now.  If not, get out from under your rock and Google that shit.  I hunted furiously for great recipes I could actually make (the options were limited due to my crap cooking skills and flat-out laziness) and got busy cooking!  Creamy Crock-Pot Spaghetti was up first.  Overall, it went pretty well.  But four hours later when it was time to open the pot and stir, all of my noodles were stuck together.  It tasted alright, but watching my husband eat a wad of 10 spaghetti noodles stuck together and kindly say, “Mmmm, good!” with each bite was just sad.  Peanut Butter Cup Chocolate Chip Cookies turned out great!  I put way more care into making these high calorie, carb-filled, bites of pure deliciousness than I had selecting our first house.  Finally, I made Lasagna Spinach Roll Ups.  Although they were more time-consuming than the lovely blog they came from explained, I was proud of their outcome.  We didn’t eat until after 8:00 PM, but hey, Jersey Shore wasn’t an overnight sensation either.

Finally, FINALLY, on Day 7 I found a poor soul to have lunch with.  Seriously, I had been calling other teacher friends all week for some human interaction (apparently my mind craves it after only a few hours alone) and everyone was busy.  What the HELL were they doing all week?  Someone please tell me!  I walked into the restaurant and my friend says, “Wow, did you get your hair done?  It looks cute!  I like your clothes, very fun!”  Nope, no hair appointment.  No new outfit.  The thought of interacting with another person excited me so much that I kind of dolled myself up and went a little crazy.  “Well, you know….” I said and shrugged as if I hadn’t been lounging in baggy sweatpants and old college t-shirts for 6 days in a row.  Lunch was nice and we ended up having a 2 hour convo about moving, school, relationships, and buying furniture from nut jobs who “only accept cash.”  Yikes.

Which brings me to today.  Day 8.  It is Friday and the only part left of my spring break is the weekend with my hubbie as usual.  My “vacation” is over and back to reality I go.  I managed to rearrange some bookshelves after knocking over a lamp and cussing like crazy to nobody in particular.  I also caught up on the latest celebrity scandals and gossip by repeatedly checking my Twitter account and People.com.  (Did you know Tori Spelling is pregnant AGAIN??)

In conclusion, I just have to tell spring break what a dirty b*&%@# she is.  Yes, I got to relax.  Yes, I slept in like a college student with 1:00 class.  Yes, my photos are now perfectly arranged by date and in albums.  But I’m ready to get back to contributing to society.  Back to getting dressed like an adult every day.  Back to having a reason to put on hair spray and mascera.  Spring break, you’ve been relaxing, but you’re also a dirty  b*&%@#.

Love Me Some 1995! January 19, 2012

istockphoto.com

I have been home sick for the past 2 days.  I have only taken 1 sick day prior to this in 4 years.  That just goes to show you how crummy I feel.  After 24 hours in the house, sitting on the couch, drinking water like it’s going out of style… I found the DVD’s my family gave me for Christmas this year.  They surprised me by putting all of our home movies onto DVD’s so my brother and I could watch them any time we want to.  Not wanting to put my husband through the torture of my awkward years (ages 10-14) I put them in a cabinet under the TV and didn’t think of them for a few weeks… until now!

In hopes of curbing my boredom, I popped disc one into my computer and snuggled in for a trip down memory lane.  Starting in 1995, I watched Christmas’, Easter’s, backyard birthday parties, summer morning T-Ball, soccer games, and lazy days around the house.  I heard my mom cheering me on as I scored a goal at 10 years old, watched my dad wave a flag when the ball went out of bounds, laughed along with my 5th grade friends as we danced around at my birthday party, and saw how truly joyful every moment of my life that was caught on camera truly was.  It was captivating.  I couldn’t stop watching my little brother play in the dirt during his T-ball game at 5 years old.  Man, the 90’s rocked. 

Despite everything, do you know what really caught my attention?  How present and engaged everyone was at each event.  In the 90’s, nobody talked on a cell phone during a choir concert at school, nobody sat in the corner and texted as their child opened birthday gifts, nobody texted during a friend’s party, and nobody missed their child scoring a goal because they were checking Facebook on their phone.  Everyone was present.  Involved.  Together.

I almost long for those years again.  The simplicity of it all.  My parents threw a Halloween party for my friends and I in 5th grade.  Do you know where it was held?  No, not at the Hilton.  I had no celebrity performer and no trapeze performance.  It was in our garage!  Black and orange streamers covered the ceiling, plastic tablecloths with witches covered borrowed picnic tables.  My mom had several party games planned involving toothpicks, lifesavers, toilet paper rolls, and plastic spoons.  My little brother roamed around with us wanting to be a part of the fun and you know what?  We let him!  He danced to the sweet sounds of “The Macerena” with us and even got wrapped up by my friend for the mummy contest!  There was no rivalry, harsh language, slutty costumes, or fighting.  It was just pure joy.

When mom brought my brother and I to the first day of school (he was in 1st grade and I was in 6th) she caught the 90’s in their full glory.  Girls ran around in long jean shorts (OK, maybe a little too long for my taste, but no buttcheeks were hanging out at our elementary school!)  Our hair was done in a simple pony tail with a scrunchy.  We were kids.  Just kids.  Making faces at the camera, smiling from ear to ear, putting our arms around each other with excitement over being the oldest at school this year!  Our only complaint caught on camera? “One recess this year mom, just ONE!”  Nobody complained about a dead cell phone battery, nobody bragged that their cell phone was faster or better than yours, and the girls weren’t concerned about their weight.  We just wanted to have fun!

The 90’s were awesome, I just didn’t realize it until today.  Following hours, literally hours of home video footage from 1995 on (thanks mom and dad!) I can finally see just how good we had it.  I was blissfully unaware of everything around me that made the 90’s so nifty.  My family, my friends, The Macerena, TGIF, and simplicity.  Now, I can only hope to give my own children half of the childhood that my parents gave me in the 90’s.  Hopefully my future children will look back someday and say, “Wow, the 2020’s were the best!”

What year would you like to go back to?  Why do you want to go back?

Resolutions from a Twenty Something January 1, 2012

Well, I did it.  I came full circle.  Last New Year’s Eve I told some friends at a party that my resolution was to start blogging.  What was I going to blog about they asked.  I didn’t know… I just wanted to take my love for writing and making people laugh and then merge them into a hobby for myself.  This year when people asked what I did for fun I actually had an answer: I blog. 

Normally I come up with resolutions that last oh… a week or so and then go back to my old ways.  (By the way, what’s so wrong with the old way of doing things?)  But not this year.  This year, I wrote my very first blog on January 1st and went on to write 22 more blog over the next 365  days.  I surprised myself with my continued attention to this blog and the enjoyment I got from each writing session.  It is incredibly liberating to just share stories from my life with whoever wants to listen.  It’s been surprising to watch how many people view my stories, comment on them, and then… then… find out that people actually subscribed to my blog!  (OK, so it’s like 6, but that’s REALLY exciting to me!)

So…. what do I do this year?  What resolutions do I make as a twenty-something moving forward into my… (gasp) late twenties in 2012?  Read on!

Resolution #1: I will be nicer. 

OK, so I am a nice girl.  But I can get a little catty.  I call those my “Reality TV moments.”  I attribute my occasional z-snap to the sassy Real Housewives, my icy stare downs to the Kardashians, and my excessive cussing to the Jersey Shore.  The moment I feel the need to share a saucy thought with a friend about someone else, I will stop myself and say, “This is real life.  Your actions and words have actual consequences and will not results in higher ratings.”  Done.

Resolution #2: I will not look like a lost puppy when shopping for baby gifts at Target.

Last year, I experienced several trips to Target in search of the perfect gift for my friends’ new babies.  I would walk in, print out their registry, and then stagger around looking for aisle E7.  E7?  Who thought of this system?  After a kind employee pointed me in the right direction my jaw dropped upon reading that my friend wanted some “nipple pads” and “butt paste.”  What the hell?  Are you trying to kill me with embarrassment?  You’re going to get an outfit of my choosing and you’re going to like it!  Done.

Resolution #3: I will find my best angle and pose when getting my picture taken.

Go ahead, call me self-centered, but this is something I think every girl needs to figure out.  In a typical year, I have one maybe two photos, of the hundreds that were taken where I actually like the way I look.  You know what I’m talking about.  You load the pictures from a vacation onto your computer and find The One.  Your hair is almost glistening, your skin is just the right tone, your look happy but not cheesy, fake, happy, and your body looks relaxed as if your hand just happened to be on your hip when the picture was taken.  Perfection, or at least as close as you can get.  It quickly becomes my Facebook profile picture, computer wallpaper, framed an end table, and slapped onto our Christmas card.  This shouldn’t happen once a year.  It should just happen always.  Maybe I can talk my hubbie into acting like paparazzi this year for practice?  Done.

Happy 2012 my fellow bloggers!  May your resolutions be lighthearted and your days filled with laughter!

How Aunt Flo Almost Ruined My Graduation May 14, 2011

It has been awhile since my last post and all of my fans are demanding that I put out another hysterical post ASAP.  Well…. that may not be exactly true.  But my growing readership of 4 subscribers is probably going to abandon my fan club if I don’t deliver soon.

Tonight I’d like to explain how I learned one very important lesson a couple of weeks ago: Always, always, carry a purse.

I have been taking graduate level courses for the past 2 years to increase my teaching ability, benefit my students’ learning, and let’s be honest… beef up the paycheck.  I attended my graduation recently and quickly found out how necessary my purse truly is.  Because we had a rather high-profile commencement speaker, we were told through several frantic emails not to bring a bag to the ceremony.  With airport like security (minus the awkward pat down), bringing a bag would cause us extra time in line and frustration.  Knowing my own patience level, I decide that a purse wouldn’t be a good choice for myself, the security workers, or anyone standing next to me that day.  I bravely followed their guidance and left it at home.  The catch?  Like clockwork, whenever I have some sort of important event planned, I also had my period.

“It’s going to be fine,” I told myself.  My mom can carry some lady items (this is what I call tampons and pads, see previous post, “Tampons, Pads, and Condoms Oh My” for further explanation) in her purse and we can trade-off my supplies at some point during the day.  Done.  Little did I know that my family would be enclosed in a different building for most of the day prior to the ceremony due to security purposes.  I was left high and dry… well not exactly dry but I won’t go there.

Once I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to meet up with my mom, I went into straight up panic mode.  I gathered the support of my 2 friends to go in search of a lady item.  We had 2 hours to complete our mission… plenty of time, right?

At first I was reluctant to approach perfect strangers for help.  “Um, excuse me.  Do you have a lady item? ”  I felt stupid and embarrassed.  But after politely asking the only 5 girls in the building who broke the rules and brought a purse with them, we created a new plan.  Let’s get a quarter and I can just buy one.  “Hi, sorry to bother you but I need a quarter.”  This was usually followed with a shrug and cringe from me.  After asking about 15 people, one fabulous female reached into her clutch and handed me what I’d been looking for.  As she revealed the quarter and handed it to me I almost saw it happening in slow motion.  I even think that it glistened in the florescent lights of the arena.  I hugged her like she had just returned from serving in Iraq for a year and ran to the bathroom- wait, I think I skipped- no, I frolicked.  I proudly set the quarter into the slot, cranked the handle around (by the way, why do they make those damn machines so fricken loud?) and peered into the dispenser as if it were a Christmas stocking on December 25th.  My beaming smile quickly faded when I saw nothing.  I started cranking the wheel right, left, and then right again.  Nothing.  Shit.  Now what?  Half of the people in the arena are now aware that I need a lady item, yet none can help me.

I did what any 25-year-old girl would do.  I grabbed my friend’s smart phone and called mom.  Close to tears and with a shaky voice I said, “Mom, I don’t know what to do.  I need a lady item and the machines don’t work, nobody has a purse so they can’ t offer me one, and we have to line up pretty soon to walk into the ceremony.  I’ll never last 3 hours with what I’ve got.  HELP!”  We arranged to meet at a side door and perform a hand off.  I found out about this secret door after speaking with someone in charge.  It went something like this:

Me: “Hi, how do I meet up with my mom who is in the other building?”

Lady in charge: “You can’t.”

Me: “Welllll, what if it’s an emergency?”

Lady in charge: Sigh… “What’s the problem.”

Me: (At this point I had lost all pride and came out with it as if I were talking about a TV show I saw last night) “I need a lady item, desperately, and will NOT last for the 3 hour ceremony without it.  Machines are broken.”

Lady in charge: “You see that long hallway?  Go down there.  There are doors in either side of the garage door at the end of the tunnel.  They open into the next building.  But hurry, we’re starting soon.”

My mission was clear.  Get to the end of the tunnel, find the door, meet mom without being jumped by security, and perform a handoff.

I grabbed my friend by the arm and began pulling her down the tunnel explaining the plan.  The whole while I kept thinking a security guard would be throwing me against a wall at any given moment.  I carefully opened the door praying that an alarm wouldn’t go off, got the goods from my mom, ran to the restroom, and sprinted to my seat just in time for our final directions.  Now I know what it’s like to experience a drug deal.

Although this whole ordeal made me miserable for the first part of graduation day, things quickly turned around and I was able eo enjoy the ceremony.  We took pictures of my family and I with my diploma and had a lovely dinner that night.  Everything turned out fine.  My lesson in all this is simple.  Always carry a purse with you, no matter how harsh the warnings are against it.  Any security line would have been worth waiting in if it meant being better prepared for my bitchy Aunt Flo.