I Entered A Church And Didn't Burst Into Flames

Even though Pat Robertson bends his head in pained prayer for me when he hears me say it...

Dear Heavenly Father, I ask that you protect the church from the abomination of Suzi Que & that you will rain strings of garlic and crucifixes down upon the fellow parishoners so that they might fight off her evil...Oh, and a silver bullet or spike to drive through her heart wouldn't hurt...Rock on, Big G!

I went to church this morning.

No, no, I haven't lost my mind or belief in the tenet of freedom of thought. There's this really cute little Unitarian church that I discovered awhile back because of their lecture series on B.F. Skinner's "About Freedom". I don't why but today I felt like some insightful discussion would be a good thing. I mean, in what other church will the band play "Without Love" by the Doobie Brothers and encourage you to dance? Today was the Native American tradition of the "talking stick" and it was really cool. I had nothing to add, it was just a day of listening for me...and that's rare so I went with the silence.
"Our god is an awesome god and he reigns from Heaven above..."

It's been a weekend full of parties for me and I would love to show you pictures of me and my smiling friends being all fabulous and stuff...
but, really, who gives a shit? That and my computer is on its last leg and I can't get any of the pictures of my fabulous, charmed life to load. Bummer, dude!

Last night was a friend's graduation from nursing school. I had a new dress, was feeling all cute with my new haircut and went to the bathroom to discover this:

My teeth were a lovely deep shade of eggplant. Moral of the story: Remain humble and don't let your vanity get the best of you. Drats! Why do some people get to be arrogant assholes and I don't? And, truth be known, my hair looks more like a girl from the 1800s who had her locks cut by an angry nun as punishment for, oddly enough, vanity.

Okay, so maybe that analogy only makes sense to me but picture a young child's "I had lice" homemade haircut done by mom.

Have a good, long weekend!

Memorable First Date

WARNING: Due to me being a numbskull when it comes to "techy" things, you might need a magnifying glass to read the latter part of this post.

First dates are all pretty memorable to me because they are so few and far between. This is not only due to the fact that I'm a warty hag (kidding) but also because I'm a chronic relationship jumper. I have one date and presto...instant relationship. It's almost like, "Just add wine", and you can have me as your girlfriend...forever.

Probably the most memorable date to me, however, was THE FIRST DATE...EVER. Now, I have always been a late-bloomer. I did everything at least a few years after my friends. I learn through observation and what I saw of dating didn't seem appealing...

Homeroom my sophomore year

It seemed pretty terrible, actually. Teenage boys are G-R-O-S-S. Zitty, bad breath, stinky shoes, poorly-fitting clothes, they made bad jokes about your hair and makeup and then expected you to suck face with them later, which the idea of "sucking face" scared the crap out of me because: 1) I hadn't tried it with anything or one other than a My Buddy doll and 2) I just KNEW it would lead to sex.

Hey, you sexy thang, remember me?

But then there was Michael...*deep, dreamy sighs*... Michael. I felt he was a real step above the rest because he was getting his pilot's license, covered his books in weird aviation maps, and he wanted to be an ornithologist. There were red flags, too, like his caterpillar-like mustache, his obsession with Metallica, and the fact that he openly bragged about his father being his best friend. Who does that at 17?!

Fast forward through introductions, me waiting and waiting and then finally asking him out, and my friends making fun of me being in love with a guy who wore purple button-up shirts and black jeans. The night of the date, he comes to pick me up and presents my mother with an itinerary for the date with times included. Wrong move. My mom, who's just a tad rough around the edges and not used to Michael's Beaver Cleaver ways, says, "Well, do you have you business card and resume, too?" My mom, concerned about my extreme shyness and not having had a date by the time I was 16, was so thrilled for an actual boy to take me out that she didn't even set a curfew. To seem more lady-like, I made her come up with one. Alright, I digress...

Anyway, we did the typical thing: a movie. I think it was one of the Brady Bunch remakes, perfect for two high school nerds. So, the date starts narrowing to an end and I was pretty pleased that he had made zero attempts at hitting any bases. Then...on the way home...he turns on the dark dirt road that IS the LONG way home. I gulp. He puts a Led Zepplin tape on. The song...Kashmir. Even at that tender age I KNEW that song = SEX. Michael takes the plunge and pulls over, leans into me and I realize that I still have my seatbelt on. I am trapped in this moment so I have to let it happen. And it does. And it is awful.


It was like a Mack truck had plowed over my nubile teenage face, that caterpillar-like mustache waging a war against the patch of skin between my upper lip and nose. I heard cartilage in my nose crack, I felt mustache-burns...there would be no hiding this from my mother. I realize now I'm rambling but the date basically ends like this: He full-on cops a feel of my A-cup, I slap him away and say something stupid like, "Nuh-uh, Mister. I am tight as a clam"... And Mr. Michael never talks to me again. I am heart-broken that a fellow nerdster didn't appreciate my chaste ways...and pine for him the remaining years of high school. Sad but true.

Luckily, as I've aged I have perfected my technique...

Let"s just hope he has, too.

This nonsense I wrote for Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.

Sir Beards A' Lot

This is kind of how I'm feeling today and let me tell you why...



Just call this the summer of the beard. Expect to hear frequent stories about facial hair (hopefully not mine) because a beard you could lose your youngest child in seems to be en vogue for a certain crowd....

Exhibit A: Lovingly referred to as the Indie Jesus, Hipster Haysoos, Modern Mohammed...

There are various combinations of how this guy presents himself (shortened hair, maybe some cut-off, oversized Wranglers, a trucker cap, I've even seen a camo coat or two) but he will ALWAYS wear worn-in second-hand clothes and he will ALWAYS have a PBR in his hand (unless in recovery)...and he will ALWAYS love music by bands you've never heard of. He will be well-read, play guitar, enjoys a little marijuana on a warm summer night with his friends and eats only locally-grown food and drinks only fair-trade coffee or tea. He might smoke cigarettes but they will only be American Spirit and he will definitely ALWAYS roll his own. All of this stuff I love, too, but I'm a little put-off by the Beardy-Weirdy Man these days. Why? Because I was attacked by one at a cookout over the weekend. Oh, and did I mention it was my good friend's boyfriend? Yes, my friends, the Hipster Haysoos might preach all love and gentleness BUT...but...they are savage, rabid beasts with an apparent affinity for some other rare goody: Redheads.

So, I was standing in line for the bathroom at said cookout enjoying my wine buzz and simply waiting when someone walks up behind me, grabs me around my waist to pull me closer into them and the hand starts inching upward. When I turn around, all I see is this

next to my cheek and reeking of beer and whatever grossness a beard holds. It's Mr. X... and he is groping and spooning me outside the freaking bathroom. I tell him he needs to find his girlfriend and he has the nerve to say, "You really think so?" What the hell? Of course...

After the gruesome details of the story are relayed to a litany of female friends for advice on the situation, guess who the friend is mad at? Moi. Holy Larry, get a backbone, girl! There are plenty of other Beards out there...maybe even one that won't fondle your friends How can you tell the difference in them anyway? I'm assuming it's just trial and error. The long, bushy black one didn't work for you? Find a mid-length chestnut one with an added fu manchu!

So, I'll be keeping my happy haunches at home for awhile because people just can't behave. How was your weekend? Were you attacked by a 6 foot beard?

A Random Monday Post

I was listening to a radio show about this particular Steinbeck book and I fell in love with this excerpt:

"I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I've lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment." (John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley)

If this doesn't describe the cadence of my life, then nothing does. Live large, with zest, be creative and have no regrets!

Anyway, know this guy?

It's Garrison Keillor...and I have some good news: He's retiring!!!!! I hope this means that his stinkin' radio show, 'A Prairie Home Companion" is retiring, too. It is the most boring, ridiculous show EV-er and it takes up 2 hours of radio time that I'm CERTAIN can be filled with something less...less... well, something less Garrison Keillor. Look, I am a nerd and I love nerd humor probably more than a person should BUT...this show is beyond nerd humor. When I hear the show, I envision the audience being full of school teacher retirees wearing elastic-waisted khakis. You know, the "Vera Bradley Crowd"...

Yes. I AM a snob. But I'm a cerebral snob... Anyway, a 2 hour show full of bad jokes, Garrison Keillor's painfully snooze-worthy stories about Lake Woebegone, and THE worst music I have ever heard...I would rather be beaten with a stick by a quilted-bag-toting retiree...

And now here's something we hope you really like...

I'm kind of obsessed with pirates and the idea that they still exist, so here ya go... Arrr!

Somali pirates have put their ransom prices "on sale". Yes, they are decreasing their ransoms by 20% because those rescuing hostages aren't able to afford the ransoms SOooo...the pirates currently have too many hostages. These guys are shrewd businessmen, huh? Dang, just quit taking people!

For a limited time only, free your hostage at rock-bottom prices! We're overstocked and everything (er, everyone) must go!

And here is a gratuitous picture of me and my grad school buddies, who happen to be some of my best friends. Yet another birthday celebration...

Ugh. My friends are all disgustingly beautiful...

*Siiiiiiiigh* Monday, monday...

Party Hardy

I woke up this morning to a trashed house that smelled like a good time. It reeked of champagne, pear vodka, cheap beer...and man. No, no, don't get excited for me. I didn't get lucky and, frankly, I didn't like the way this man smelled. Really, man-smell makes me gag and I need to move on from the topic before my acid reflux resurfaces... Said man was my best friend's faux boyfriend and had split a cab with us. They stayed on the couch... and I went to bed with my cats.

Last night, we celebrated... come on, Oprah, help me out...

Lori's 30th Birthdaaaaaaaaaaay!!!!!!!!!

Beautiful lady friends at dinner. I love that I'm so pale that the flash bounces off my skin... Jamie, the woman next to me, has given up alcohol for Lent. I know it's supposed to be about sacrifice but...daaaaaaaaang...


Amber, one of my best friends, and me. The gin sodas were having an effect by this point, to say the least...droopy eyes. You know, Amber forced all of us to wear a lei but I'm now noticing how she doesn't have one...sneaky, sneaky.

Brittany trying to tempt me with some cheesecake but I resisted the devil. "Get thee behind me, Satan!", I told her as I smacked the plate out of her hand and wrestled her to the ground.

Well, I can't get the other pictures to upload so I'm giving up. It was a crazy night, full of dancing and laughter.

Well, it's been a busy, fun weekend. How has yours gone? Happy Monday!!!!

Ugliness

For some reason, this picture really freaks me out.

Well, I awoke feeling spunky and had planned on writing about something completely vapid and silly. Then I read others' posts. Depression, death, tumultuous change...it deflated my bubble of laughs and made me reflect on my own life (as we selfish ones are prone to do).

It has been a cold, bleak winter and I desperately need sun. It appears I am not the only one and as much as I want to glean comfort from company, I do not. There are times I feel so lonely, hollow that I literally ache. I would prevent anyone from feeling such desolation of the soul if I could. I'm on the continued journey of living a robust, fulfilled life and of being appreciative for all that I have, being thankful and mindful of every person and every moment. I want to love more fully, more innocently, and I am struggling with this. Anger, jealousy, selfishness all get in the way. I can be pretty ugly.

I am a work in progress. I remind myself that I am merely doing the best that I can at any given time...but, really, am I?

My challenge for the week is to be honest with myself and others, decrease my defensiveness, and REALLY do my best. Also...I want to have one week that is completely, totally, absolutely free of any bad behavior...no tantrums, thinking before I speak, and attempting, attempting to practice empathy (*deep sighs*). I have the tendency to not only shoot from the hip but shoot from the mouth, as well. I purposely try to wound with words and, to be honest, I gain a sense of power and satisfaction at times. The scary thing is how automatic the words just surface and fly from my mouth...and how good I am at it. If my momma heard some of the things that spew from this face, she would either blush or give me a high five depending on her mood (now you know where I get it from). Don't piss me off!!!

Whisper Sweet Nuthins In My Ear...Or Just Lick It

Well, that's a cool trick to get the baby to smile....

Anyway, if the presenter in my training had gingerly licked my ear every so often just like this nice little girl is doing for her brother, I might not have embarrassed myself by nodding off so much today. Just saying...

If anyone who reads this is in the field of human resources, let me go ahead and apologize for being offensive...because I'm gonna. How do you sleep at night?! How do you get up in the mornings and actually make it to work?! I don't want to go so far as to use the word 'pointless' but...I mean, if it fits into the job description... Do you know what your trainings DO to people? And if your profession is basically to interact with and inform humans, how come you have a hard time relating to them? Why are so many of you such dry little toads and...not personable?


I had to attend an all-day training today that was designed and facilitated by HR. By 9:30am, I was ready to shoot myself in the face. If I ever see another PowerPoint presentation with that silly graphic of the pot-bellied stick-man scratching his head, the light bulb over him flashing or of him dancing or of him in the boat paddling, question marks in varying sizes in an arc over the boat, well, I just might shoot myself in the face...ok, in the foot at the very least. Really, HR. Just give us our damn employee handbooks and let us figure stuff out on our own! If I have questions, you will be the first to know...I promise! Just for you, I will contact you next week and ask what to do in case of a fire. Or what number to call if I want to rat out a colleague on allegations of fraud. Or even what to do if I give someone the wrong dose of medication, which I shouldn't be doing...but I'll even let you tell me that! I don't need you to explain every page of it through a prepared presentation with those crappy canned clip-art graphics (that make me crazy) and I really don't need you to print off handouts of said presentation. GAWD!!!! Save a tree, save some paper...save an employee!

To make matters worse, the lady who sat behind me had GERD or some bad reflux or something. She kept gurgle-burping in a way that reminded me of an ostrich. Yes, ostriches gurgle-burp when they're feeling aggressive. I've had my fair share of ostrich run-ins at petting zoos. One time, I threw a big carrot at one, he caught it mid-air, swallowed it whole then stared right at me like, "What'd you think about that, bitch?" He even cocked his head! But that's a whole other post.

Oh, and I didn't even complete my online trainings today, HR. I skipped them, went straight to the assessments and took them until I passed. HA!

Happy Gurgle-Burping! What did your Monday unfold?