Halfway to 50!

Twenty somethings unite!

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!

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Feeling Guilty About My Guilty Pleasure June 10, 2011


I was in a crazy rage the other night.  Literally, sweaty palms, shaking, flushed face, the works.  So what happened?  Someone cut me off on the road?  No.  The hubbie shrunk my favorite jeans?  No. Worse.  Much worse.   The TV.  Went.  Out.

Ok, ok, so most of you are now raising your eyebrows thinking I’m some gross slob who sits around and watches hours of TV with no life outside of the couch and the remote.  Not true.  But I do have this, what I now consider an obsession, with reality TV.  So imagine my surprise when mid-Real Housewives of New York, my TV screen goes blue (as if they purposely chose this depressing color to solidify the sadness of the news) delivers me a message on the screen: “Hello.  We’re restarting the hard drive.  Do not power down or restart.”  Ugh!  Seriously?!  This is a new episode!  What am I going to do with myself if I don’t know how the Ramona vs. Jill fight ends? 

It all started because of this crazy rain we were experiencing.  It had been pouring off and on all evening.  If there is ice, snow, or severely cold temperatures, DirecTV stands strong.  But if there is even a hint of rain, our satellite goes out.  It seems to shut down about 10 seconds before a heavy rainfall starts.  It is a nice little weather forecaster, but annoying as hell when you’re watching something as wonderful as The Real Housewives.  So there I was, typing up a paper that was due last week on my laptop, sipping a Diet Coke and 30 minutes into a special 75 minute episode of The Real Housewives of New York.  Then it happened.  The blue screen and that damn message.  I swallowed the Diet Coke that I had just poured into my mouth, slowly set the can down, closed my laptop, and stared at the TV.  I didn’t know what to do.  I paced back and forth in my living room trying to think of a solution.  The more I paced, the more angry I became.  I was sweating, nervous, and confused.  I started talking to myself, “How can we put a man on the moon, bring Internet through cell phones, and have a video conversation with someone on the other side of the world, but THE SATELLITE GOES OUT IF IT RAINS?!?!”  Seriously, our TV satellite people need to do some serious research on how to get the signal to go through, no matter the weather.  How does this happen? 

About 15 minutes later the signal came back, I watched the rest of the show, and was fine.  But I came to an important realization: I may be addicted to TV.  I work out regularly, eat right, and work hard 8-5, and am thisclose to getting my Master’s Degree.  Don’t I deserve some down time at night with Teen Mom, Millionaire Matchmaker, and Real Housewives?  Should I feel guilty about my guilty pleasure?