Fiiiiiive golden rings

Sha-ZAM.


People, I have written this blog One Two Four and now FIVE times.

I have very little to be personally proud of in my life, everything I accomplish seems end up being a group effort with other people, but once a year I have the opportunity to tell myself, "Look, look what you can do! Its kind of useless, but you do it! Some people write dissertations or movie scripts, but you! you write unreadable novels. Wa-hoo! You go girl" And that is kind of awesome.

I say this every year and every year I totally mean it, this is getting harder and harder. I do not know quite what that says about my life but it is still totally true. If you look at this bar graph you will see how this almost did not happen.



So you can see that seriously it was not until today that I was anywhere near my goal. Mostly because this year I (finally?!) have a job where I have to do work the WHOLE time I am working. At none of the jobs I have had in the past five years have I been required to actually give my 110%, this is kind of sad but also kind of awesome, until this month when I had to spend five days a week writing for a job and then had to go home and find the inspiration to write. It was a challenge (as you can see...).

This is why I will never haterate on any of my friends who have real jobs and try to do this. It is hard as shit and I'm only doing it because I am super, super stubborn.

I also realize that these become less like novels and more me just getting my writing demons out as much as I can in 30 days. This year's novel took place in about 24 hours. Less even. It takes place from 7:15 AM to 1 AM. I'm like friggin Jack Bauer over here. And really nothing happens? Well, okay the protagonist gets to Vermont, and goes to a Friendly's. She also goes to a bar and hollers at a governor, but really there is just a lot of sitting around and talking and introspection. A whole lotta introspection. Turns out a good mental diversion can eat up 2,000 or 3,000 words.

Even though over all the writing is fairly terrible there are some sentences that have a glimmer of potential and for a month of work, that's enough for me.

And of COURSE - my thanks go out to:

The boyfriend (and his family) for letting me spend most of the Thanksgiving weekend writing instead of being social and/or putting up Christmas lights. Also for the food. And I got wine AND a cookie tonight for celebration!

MB - for letting me bail on so much stuff these past few weeks and being perfectly cheerful when I tell her that I am not coming into work so I can write my novel, or I'm going to leave at noon so I can write my novel and for also for trying to win me street cred with the kids by telling them that I was writing the novel.

Pandora - Oh man, can I tell you, I have the girlest, most embarrassing personal Pandora station. It is all Glee, broadway musicals, Adele and Taylor Swift. No joke. So humiliating and yet apparently good for writing.

Dollop - I only went there once, but it is an awesome, and funky and inspiring and I can't wait to go there for real work.

Hazel - There is not a better writing kitten in the whole world, for reals people. She is so snuggly and warm and just wants you to succeed. Also she fights with tinsel and it is hilarious.

Courtney - for being there, forever and always. See you in a few weeks, C-bomb. I'll be the one with the Bears Santa hat on holding a sign saying "SOLID GOULD."

My goal is to actually post a real blog between now and next November. Also, to finish writing all the things that were due before November.

NaNo-lazy

So, once again I am writing a novel this month, BAM! And once again I am procrastinating like whoa. I am incredibly over confident in my capacity to churn out 30,000 words in 4 or 5 days.

Its very strange to talk about this with new people, because inevitably the first question is, "Well, what is it about?" And when I pause for like 10 seconds before answering, they start to think I'm full of shit.

"I...don't...know?"

Then they know I'm full of shit.

Here's the thing, I have an idea for a plot and so far, the narrative is kind of going in that direction that I wanted it to, but the plot is kind of weird (because it was the first thing I came up with) and anytime I try to explain it to someone they give me a look of, "uh...listen Novel-girl..."

And the thing is, its not really about that - what this "novel" about is writing. I've spent pages discussing things like, Friendly's, being in a cab, and the waiting room of a hospital.

I am comforted by the fact that this piece of work will never see the light of day (or anyone else's eyes for that matter). Its a way for me to sculpt sentences, to play with metaphors and just explore thoughts.

I used to make my novels run a close parallel to my life as a way of trying to figure out what I should be doing, but now its fun to explore the paths I didn't take - the things that might have been and the things that would have never been but are fun to write about.

So I just write and write and occasionally think about how this is going to align itself with the plot I figured out. Its similar to improv in this way except longer lasting.

See you guys at the end of the tunnel.

Stranger Danger

So, quite suddenly and with very little warning, I find myself playing host to an 18 year old girl from Argentina for the rest of the week.

This girl worked with the Artistic Director of my company a while back and he suggested that she come work here- apparently she's got some mad skills and the boss man thought we could use a little Latin Flavor (its true- for such a diverse group of kids we work with, no one can actually speak legit Spanish on the entire staff).

So like three months ago I started working on this girl's visa application (after getting one in a mere 24 hours, the powers that be could tell I had a serious skill when it comes to visas) she was just this hard-to-remember-how-to-pronounce name, an e-mail address, and a little bit of job security.

Now, after a surprising amount of work and a gajillion e-mails, she is finally here. In America. For the very first time. Currently the number of people she knows in this country can be counted on one hand. And I'm the one who has known her the longest. I picked her up from the airport, took her to the grocery store, the bank, gave her a map, packed her a lunch, started explaining essential things like public transit, the bike path on Lake Shore, what a Jewel Osco Preferred Card is and how she has to keep the door to her room a little bit open so the cat doesn't pee everywhere.

She seems to understand what I'm saying for the most part which I find surprising, only because I know how fast I talk and while I have been making a concerted effort to slow it down, when I get going, I see a very glazed look come over her face.

I have started to think back to when I was 18, while I was a very mature 18, if I had gone to a new country where I knew no one, had a very tenuous grasp on the language and was relying on the kindness of people I had never even spoken on the phone with, I would have been terrified. Which she must be, and she's doing a really good job of rolling with the punches.

I feel kind of like I have an unannounced foreign exchange student and no one really told me what to do with her...Its only for a few days, but they're pretty critical first days...I keep worrying that I'm going to mess up some how, that I'm not going to give her some piece of very critical information and she's like, going to get lost, or stranded or mugged...

Luckily its only for a few days.

Great Urban Race - Chi town

Okay - so, its a week late, but here's the lowdown on our very first Great Urban Race.

Boyfriend and I were there on time - early even, but didn't really want to drink a beer at the meet-up bar because the worst possible thing was to have to make a bathroom pit stop in the middle of the race.

One of the main flaws of GUR is the lack of chip timing. Because what it meant was that everyone was given an envelope of clues and then there was a mad rush for the door- had there been more people there could have been some serious injuries and we also saw at least one team make it out before the lady in charge said Go. But anyway - we opened the envelope of clues and just started running. We realized that the best bet was to just get on the Red Line and go downtown.

Once we got on the train platform (along with every other team) we waited for about 10 minutes for the train. In that 10 minutes we solved pretty much every clue that needed to be solved. Thanks to both of our internet-phones and our text-a-friend Little Brother. Once we got on the train we mapped out a route. Everything I had read about the race said that the most important part was to figure out which clue to skip to save yourself as much time as possible.

Boyfriend really wanted to skip the clue that told you to find someone in a tie-dyed shirt or Chuck Taylors. I was sure that that was going to be way easier than he thought, and sure enough - once we got off the train we (and a whole bunch of other teams) accosted this perfectly normal guy and asked to take a picture with him and his sneakers. He was very nice about it.



With that taken care of, we decided that if we couldn't find a job application or "Help Wanted" sign (harder than it would seem with this whole internet fad) before we finished all the downtown clues we would skip that and go find the clue that required us to do a relay race. Once we get off the train, we start with the clues that are furthest south.

We had to take a picture in front of Berghoff's restaurant with 8 other people doing the "Superstar" pose (never gets old, right?) I thought this was going to be impossible, as this is a pretty fanciest restaurant and normal people wandering around on a rainy Chicago Saturday aren't going to want to stop and pose like an idiot. Boyfriend realized that obviously there were going to be a lot of other teams down there too - so we should go and just take pictures with them. He was right.



I can't believe they accepted this picture at the finish line because there aren't really 10 people in it. But its fine. Also, thus begins the pattern of looking terrible and out-of-focus in every picture. In our own defenses - it was rainy and humid and we were running everywhere.

After we did that we split up. Boyfriend counted the number of flags on a building and I went to Walgreens to buy a toy for a toy-drive for the charity GUR was partnering with. Right after we split up, I realized that I had no phone and only like $5 cash. If for any reason, we can't meet up, I am totally stranded.

I buy a matchbox car and magically, Boyfriend meets up right with me. We run towards the drop off place for the toys and get our picture taken with the mascot of the charity.



Then as we race towards the Art Institute to take our picture with one of the lions, I stop into the Patty Melt restaurant and lo-and-behold! They still do paper job applications. The guy who gives me the application tries to have a conversation with me about what they're looking for in employees and I'm like, "yeah, great..." and run out.

Then we have this nice girl (who apparently had been asked to do this many times by the time we got there) take our pictures in front of the Lion. We were holding up 7 fingers because that's how many flags there were in the window that Boyfriend had counted.



At this point we were done with downtown, so we went to get on the Brown Line to head back north. At this point we WAIT and WAIT for the train, which became quite the pattern. We end up talking to a few other teams. They all seem really serious about the race, so we think that we're probably doing okay. Finally the train comes and we take it up to Armitage. We get off with everyone else doing the race and head towards the Tin Man statue in Wizard of Oz park.

This also caused a problem, because I am a) disturbingly out of shape, b) not a runner, and c) had jacked up my achillies with my bike pedal the day before and so was having more trouble than normal running. This was the farthest we had to run and I did not do a good job. But eventually we got to the Tin Man and got our picture taken.



Then we got on a Lincoln Bus to make our way to Kingston Mines for a dance lesson. The bus driver was kind of an idiot and lets us off a few stops too early and so we run to Kingston Mines. Then (mine and boyfriend's favorite clue) we had to do a 5 minute salsa lesson. While I was really anxious to get going it was really fun to get to dance in an air-conditioned roon for a few minutes. It gave us a chance to relax and have fun before heading back down to Fullerton and Lincoln to get our picture taken eating a hot dog. This is possibly the creepiest picture ever, btw.



After taking that first bite, I then decide that this is the appropriate time to go ahead and put some mustard and ketsup on the dog and eat THE WHOLE THING. Horrible, horrible idea - because then what do we have to do (wait for it) RUN. While digesting Hot Dog. Gross.

We run to the Fullerton Brown Line and then finally realize what the hold up has been. Apparently in our whole evening of studying the night before, we forget to check to see how the CTA is going to be running the next day. The brown and red lines are running on a single track so we wait and wait and wait for a train. At one point I say that I'm going to stab someone in the heart loud and forcefully enough for a girl to look at me and walk the other direction.

FINALLY the train comes and we think that we're doing pretty well. We only have two clues left and then we have to head back to Cubby Bear. We pass Wellington and the train just.stops. Not at the station (oh, no, that would be WAY too convenient), just past the station so we can't get off of it, we just have to wait and wait and wait and get really really mad at the world, and then take it out on each other. FINALLY the train starts moving again and we get off at Belmont. I still maintain that it was faster to take the train than to try to walk/run 20 blocks in the disgusting humidity. Boyfriend is not sure, but we were waiting long enough that I think it's what knocked us out of finishing in the top 25.

We get off at Belmont and go to Comedy Sportz where we have to play a round of charades. I got the word "soup" and it took Boyfriend approximately 7 seconds to guess it (no joke, the group next to us was there when we got there, and there when we left).

We are happy to be making up time and run to the Tattoo shop on Belmont to put a temporary tattoo on Boyfriend's face. All the time we made up with the charades is lost in our inability to successfully apply the tattoo. Had we been patient enough to wait the 30 seconds the first time we would have been fine, but no dice. After 4 tries we manage to get it to work.



Then we're done except for one last clue. For this I would like to send a shout out to the Penn Laurel Girl Scout Council for teaching me the game Between Green Glass Doors. The one "riddle" question we had gotten, I had figured out in less than 30 seconds. So while we are waiting for the light to change we get a random girl to hang up the phone with her mom and take our picture with the Sheffield street sign in the back.



Then its a straight shot up to the Cubby Bear. By this point my foot is killing me and I am hot and sweaty and we've run about 4 miles. I had not at all prepared myself to run this much and am miserable. Unfortunately both teammates have to cross the finish line at the same time, so Boyfriend, very sweetly walks with me until we get to about Strange Cargo (that made our awesome Baracketship tee-shirts) and then we run. We run until we get across the finish line.

Then I pass out.

Not really, but I do feel like it would be a good choice. At least so I don't have to stand anymore. But we get up to one of the judge's stations and realize there aren't that many people around. One of the judge's checks off all our clues and tells us we're good to go.

At this point its 2:30 and we decide that we're going to sit around and wait for the awards ceremony. We have a plate of loaded tater tots (which were amazing) and a beer and we kind of hang out.

We stay for the awards and realize, sadly, that we hadn't made the top 25. Two days later we get the results and find out that we finished 43rd out of 480 teams (so in the top 50 AND top 10th percentile). We were also only 6 minutes behind the 25th team. We were on the brown line for at least 10 minutes, so we have decided that we can blame it on that.

All in all, it was AWESOME. Next year I am going to a- train. It was a lot more running that I could have ever imagined. And b- check the train schedule. It would have been so much faster to take buses most of the way. Also, had we taken a minute to read the clues before running we would have realized that there were 2 clues close to the bar and that it might have been faster to do those at the beginning instead of the end.

We're coming for you 2010.

www.greaturbanrace.com

Uh-oh

Mother: Lyme Disease.

Father: Jacked up intern.

Brother: Rabies.


---I'm not going outside. EVER.

File this under things I love:

1 - Pointed toes.

2 - Things that make me feel like I'm defying the laws of nature.

3 - Mutual respect and admiration by both children and adults.

For Tierra

My T-bone has had a rough weekend, so this post is dedicated to her. Meet the Chicago Hot Dog:



This picture does not to it justice, but for a really sick, exhausted girl this was the best lunch in the world from the super awesome Hot Dog joint down the street.

A Chicago Style Hot Dog comes with

Beef dog
Poppyseed bun
tons of Mustard
tons of bright green relish (it's alien relish, I've never seen pickles this neon before)
lettuce
chopped raw onions
cucumber
tomato
pickles (yes, Pickles AND Relish)
hot peppers
celery salt

It's so big you cannot get it all into your mouth (...that's what she said) and it is life changing. It's calling to you Tierra...it will never break your soul. Not even a little bit.

wee ones

Is it weird that hanging out with kids makes me want them LESS? I hung out with my two newest cousins, Ethan and Connor and while they are soul-crushingly adorable, they are a TON of work. When I was in middle/high school and I hung out with anyone under the age of 4, my biological clock would speed to a neck-breaking pace. Now, it grinds to a halt.

Don't get me wrong, I still love kids - particularly ones that are related to me, dressed nicely, or British. But seeing the work that goes into it makes me want to take a nap and about 40 birth control pills. They scream for NO reason, they poop ALL the time, you have to feed them special food, and there is no promising that they will sleep when you want them to.

I know this isn't news, by any stretch of the imagination, but I've been thinking about how time is now working against me. Its time to start wanting kids according to all the websites/magazines I pretend to read and yet the idea is terrifying to me.

Where is this going?? No idea, but in 2 days this blog will be accompanied by pictures of said adorableness once I get them on my computer.

As promised.

Chicago Spring

Today when I left my house I was wearing:

Jeans.
Thick Socks.
Converse.
Tank top.
Long sleeved tee.
Tee shirt.
Light cardigan.
Hoodie.
Another hoodie.
North Face.
Pair of gloves.
Another pair of gloves.

And I was comfortable. I walked about ten blocks in this get-up and was perfectly happy.

Then when I walked from job 1 to job 2 (which is conveniently located about ten blocks from job 1 on Tuesdays) at 1 PM, I was slightly warm, but not miserable.

When I left job 1 at 3:30 I was ridiculously overdressed. Like jerk-ily over dressed, like no longer needed anything but a tee-shirt over dressed.

How does that happen??

Chicago is such a twat tease when it comes to the Spring weather. I check it every morning and when it says that the high is only going to be getting up to 46. I take that to mean that the mercury is not going to rise to 60 degrees and yet, no dice.

This morning I should have had a winter coat on. It was 29 degrees. That's coat weather, but I have retired my coat for the winter and refuse to get it back out. So layers are the only option but they aren't working either.

Why can't we just get on with it and have no-coat weather?

I'm sorry I bit you... and pulled your hair... and punched you in the face...

So, today was lame in so many ways which is why Lilo and Stitch, white wine and some sweatpants are quite perfect.

Also, I think I love this movie so much because I feel like Lilo...when I'm not feeling like Stitch.

Because I can't afford the real deal

I will watch Planet Earth in HD and dream about being able to see all these places and animals.

And then I will probably plan a trip to Vegas. Because I'm an idiot.

for the kids

Dear Children of America,

Heyyyy. It's your favorite Aunt Rachel over here. I know I'm super cool because I spent most of my time getting drunk and being the center of attention. Also I wear trendy clothes and I made you feel like less of a whore that one time you went all the way with that kid you met in the bar who smelled like Patchouli and Filet-O-Fish. You know that my advice is sound. So grab a cold beer for your auntie, sit down, and listen up.

Fuck your dreams. Seriously, unless they involve a career with limitless growth and opportunities for pay raises no matter the economic shit hole your country is in, fuck your dreams.

Too harsh? Fine. Reevaluate your dream. Classical Pianist you say? Sure, except instead be a Pharmacist. The next [insert author/photographer/actor of your choosing]? Right, of course, by which you mean Engineer of pretty much any caliber.

I'm not saying you need to give up your dreams. That's mean and I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea about this little note.

Focus on what's really important.

Dental Insurance.

You can do pretty much anything once you have a job with insurance. Sure, you'll be doing it on the side and it will mean that overtime you'll get less sleep. But you can sleep after sex, so really just do what I tell you.

I know that there are those sanctimonious douche bags out there who say that if you have a "fall back" plan you will inevitably fall back. And that might be true but its dumb and pricky to say. What these d-waffles should be saying is, "get a degree, get a job, figure out how your dreams work themselves in."

I am not saying I regret the choices I've made in life. Mostly because I don't like the satisfaction that will give various people I don't like and also, I don't. Because I can now be a billboard of what your life can turn into if you're not careful. Also, I'm deliriously happy for about 3 hours a week, and I get to get shithoused on like, Tuesday, with very few consequences - mental or otherwise, and I wear sweatpants probably more than is appropriate for any person over the age of 7.

So, think about it. I've heard that government work will probably turn you into an abusive alcoholic, but it will also give you the opportunity to have someone else pay for your absurdly expensive dental procedures. Two sides to every 3-dimensional object, my friend.

Love and Kisses,
Rachel

Chubs.

It is now 4:38 PM. Here is a completely accurate list of what I've eaten today.

- Half a Chocolate Chip Cookie
- 2 slices of wheat toast. With Nutella.
- A glass of Orange Juice
-The other half of the Chocolate Chip Cookie
-A few tortilla chips with home-made Guac.
-4 handfuls of tiny Necco Conversation Hearts
-2 squares of a Bacon Chocolate Bar
-Another half of a Chocolate Chip Cookie.


Now, in my (weak) defense. I know I'm being taken out to dinner tonight, so I haven't been eating very much as I plan on enjoying my yummy Hopleaf meal. But, I am embarrassed of myself. So I decided to tell the world.

ka.boom

Dear Airplanes,

Please stop falling from the sky.

Love,
Rachel

heckled

On Wednesday I was at Clark and Lake waiting for the Red Line.

I was in a GREAT mood. I had had a great morning of writing, I was wearing new pants and I was about to experience the German/Gym Wheel for the first time.

As I walked down the platform, I noticed a performer with a guitar, a harmonica and a Nantucket Sweatshirt.

Nothing puts a big, dumb smile on my face than a Nantucket sweatshirt. So I decided to get my camera phone out and attempt to subtly take a picture of this guy to add to my gallery of ridiculous camera phone photography.

I put my bookbag down on a bench and open the front pocket to find my phone, while my hand was in the bag I discovered that my ipod headphones cord was all tangled so I pulled it out to untangle the cord before it became a bigger disaster.

"Excuse me Miss. Do you have every song ever made on that CD?"

I hear the voice and make out what its saying but ignore it, because there is no way that that person is talking to me, and if they are, I have no interest in answering (particularly these days, because now that I'm not man hunting 24/7 I'm not even checking to see if random-talking-stranger is cute).

"Excuse me. Miss. Excuse me. Miss. Miss."

When the repetition starts everyone knows its time to answer, because otherwise there is a very good chance you might end up on the business end of the C-word and/or a punch to the face.

I look up and the street performer guy makes direct eye contact with me.

"Hey. You have every song ever written on that CD player?"

I am not quite sure what he's talking about as the only CD player I currently own is attached to the computer hidden in my backpack and if he has x-ray vision and that's what he's asking then the world is probably minutes from ending anyway, so no reason to lie.

"Um no?"

"How do you know you don't like my music if you've never heard it. Unless you're listening to every song ever made."

And now I get it.

He is insinuating that I was getting my ipod out so I could listen to my music instead of what he was going to play. And that that was incredibly rude and presumptuous of me to assume that my music was better unless I was listening to ever song ever written/played/made. Also, that I was carrying a CD player because it is obviously 1998.

At this point people have noticed. It was noon, but I was downtown, so there were enough people on the platform and we were standing far enough apart that people could hear him and realize that he was talking to me.

And so now I am embarrassed because at the beginning of this wait-for-the-train I totally liked this guy and how we shared a penchant for souvenir sweatshirts from WASP-y resort-esque islands and now I'm being lectured like a five year old who won't stop touching his junk.

At this point I zip up my bag and go back to ignoring the guy as he continues to mumble. My face is flaming red. I have untangled my ipod headphones cord at this point and put the buds in my ear listening to whatever song comes on first.


The rest of the day continues in the same ilk, with a rip in the new pants, forgetting my leftovers dinner at home and dealing with more idiots...

I'm sorry, what sort of street performer has the balls/insecurity to yell at people for not listening to him even BEFORE they have their headphones actually in?

dumb love

I still hate Valentine's Day.

Apparently, this is causing a little stir. People don't quite understand why I'm not giddy with the anticipation of flowers and calories and awkward dinner dates where I have to wear a dress.

Well. I hate flowers (why would you give some one a present that is literally DAYS from dying/is technically already dead? Would you give someone a 17 year-old cat with Feline Leukemia? Sit down. Think about it. That is dumb. A plant? In soil? Is different, but I'm still not interested). I really don't need any more calories in my life, and if I want candy- I want it the day AFTER Valentine's Day for 50% off, because I'm a girl who likes saving for a down payment. And Awkward Dinner? No thanks. I mean, I love a good meal out as much as the next girl, but I would spend the entire night staring at everyone else wondering they were going to break up/have sex/get engaged. And if someone got engaged in the restaurant I was eating in, I would probably throw food in their lap. Gross (they don't wash that floor very often, get off your knee) and Cliche. And honestly, I can't really decide what's worse between the two.

Here's the thing. YES. I have a boyfriend that I love. But so?

I cannot think of anything more hypocritical than spending the first 22 years of your life (okay, I probably didn't care the first 15 or so, but whatever) feeling inadequate for being "incomplete" this one day a year and then finally getting to a point (23) where you're perfectly happy to make out with strangers but not have someone to buy you a stuffed animal and candy and dinner (ps - receiving that as a gift that makes you sound like a 12 year-old. Gross. Again.) and THEN all of a sudden when something alters slightly (ie- a boy won't stop bothering you and tricks you into taking him home for Christmas), you're singing the praises of St. Cupid for giving you this opportunity to declare your love for this person who just showed up.

Dumb.

I mean, I am under the assumption that if my boyfriend would like to purchase a present or food for me, he is at his leisure to do so whenever the spirit moves him. It would be weird and awkward, but he can do whatever he wants. I may wear the pants, but I don't control him (okay, I do kind of, but I think he understands that he can buy me food and things and if he doesn't understand he will comment on this blog, I'm sure).

And that road runs both ways...

So, on Saturday, I will wake up hungover from a birthday party Friday night, do a kid's show, go to Circus class (maybe - see hangover), and then spend the rest of the day enjoying having more than 6 hours of daylight without obligations. Will my boyfriend be around? Probably. I can't seem to shake him.

old/new thing

"I saw my first dead body." I announced to my Mother as the train pulled out of the station, making its way back to Chicago.

"No, you didn't. And what?"

I explained about the day. The day that felt so long because of the standing and the sadness. Sadness made the second hand on his watch stop.

And if the sadness wasn't enough to fill the room, she took up the rest of it. This complete stranger who dominated the space, and made me more nervous than any of the other strangers, even though she never asked me an awkward question or looked at me as though she had maybe met me before (No, that was someone else).

"Grandma Payton was your first dead body," Mom explained.

Grandma Payton who lives on in over-told stories of swivel stools and potty training.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you were three and you rushed right up to the casket and stared down at her. You thought it was the coolest thing."

"Mom, what kind of sick fuck kid did you raise?"

talk about your gas giants...

Apparently, Mars farts.

This makes my day better.

Quack Quack

So, I've been in quite the rut thus far in 2009. A whole bunch of things have gone not-right and I've spent more of this year crying than probably the past three years combined (so Lame.) I was told today how disappointed the public is that I haven't updated my blog in forever. And for that I am sorry. But the thing I hate the most is the emo-kid blog of sadness and complaining about upper-middle-class life, so I haven't done it in awhile.

It feels like I have this hole inside of me, it hurts pretty much all day. Sometimes I forget about it, but most of the time its there, hurting.

I was thinking about that when I finally got out of my pj's and showered today (the ripe hour of 2 PM) and I realized that I'm pretty self absorbed and that most people in the world have it way way worse than I do.

So here it is. The things that I am so very very lucky to have. I hope that once I write this list I'll remember to look at it every day and that it will help fill the hole.

My Lucky List.

My immediate family. I know beyond all shadows of doubt that these people will go to the mat, to the death, cage match style for me with out even being asked. I have never doubted any of their love for me and as we all grow up I am so lucky to have two siblings that I love hanging out with, and two parents who love me and no matter what I do will always be there to help in anyway they can.

My extended family. While sometimes they get real drunk and loud, and doubt my decisions (particularly where college and professional sports are concerned), they have always and will always provide a place to sleep and a meal to eat. They're a pile of crazy but they seem to appreciate the decisions I make and look at awe upon the life I've built for myself.

My boyfriend. Who is so excited about the future that it makes me want to throw up. Who believes that the glass will always be half full. Who doesn't mind that I never ever shave my legs and always take the biggest half of the cookie.

My friends. I have a full NFL team roster of people who like to hang out with me. Who know my flaws and still are willing to be seen in public with me. And some of them are down the block and some of them are hours and hours away but they're all a phone call, or an IM or a facebook message away. And they want to talk, and they're happy to listen. And they've got my back in a bar fight. There is something to be said for the fact that when I plan to go out, the list of people I call takes up both hands and when I go home I never get to see all the people I want to see because there isn't enough time. And I could go to Seattle, or New Orleans, or New York City and have a place to sleep and people who would love to see me.


My health. With the exception of my penchant for enormous December bruises on my legs and my tendency to stub my toe and run into walls. My health bills are minimal. I don't get really sick hardly ever. And I sometimes get free birth control from my doctor's office.


My roommates. Sure, they're messy and sometimes loud but they pay bills on time, they don't bring complete strangers into the apartment. They aren't blowing coke off the sink. They let me drink their milk and they only complain about my cat sometimes and they feed her just as often. They listen to my problems. They help my boyfriend find an apartment. They unplug my straightener when I leave it on.

My cat. She's really cute and snuggly and she let me cut her nails last night with minimal complaining.


My job. Sure, it sucks right now. But I nap all the time and its enough money to pay my bills and now I even get to use some of the skills I went to college for. Also, the naps. And the fact that I don't hate the people I work with. That's always nice.


My computer, ipod, jeans, winter coat, couch, bed, and other stuff I need new winter boots and shin guards but beyond that I have a lot of really nice things. Including a Jesus Doll. And new Slippers. And a nice laundry basket. And maybe its time to buy new boots and shin guards and then stop buying things. A lot of my friends have a ton of things, which makes me jealous but I have some things that they don't. Like a talking Jesus Doll.

The hole feels better now. Its not gone, but it'll be okay.