Friendship

I know it's supposed to be a joke when people say: "you have friends?" But it's not a good one. It's actually kinda hurtful. Because then you start to wonder, why do you think I have no friends? Do I seem that unlikeable? That no one wants to hang out with me socially? But I'm charming and nice and thoughtful and funny ('eff modesty though). Why wouldn't I have friends? Because I hear that "joke" a lot more often then you'd imagine. Seriously.

Once over the summer I was at a coffee shop with some friends (See! See! I do have them! And that's plural too!) and a classmate of one of us stopped over to say hi. After introductions were made, he cracked the "you have (other) friends?" line to her. And before I could help it, I wailed (to a person I had just met) and very very loud and high pitched: "why do people think we have no friends?"

Because it turns out, I have great friends. Amazing friends. Friends that I consider family and who you keep forever. You're lucky to develop that type of friendship with anyone and I have several of them. (so there! nanny nanny boo boo!) And in cases of friendship, quality over quantity wins every time.

So I don't have 3 different party invites every weekend to rub elbows with people I don't care about. But I will rearrange my work schedule to meet my friend's new baby or see them graduate med school. I can call people at 1 am bawling because my heart is breaking. I will drive 5 hours for fantasy football and see people I only see a few times a year. And the only thing we do that weekend is couch and cook.

So I don't have a 1000 friends. But it's not like I don't have any friends either. So bad jokes aside, I'm happy and thankful for what I have. Because it's worth a hell of a lot more.

Baggage

I want to be a mom. I want to be a wife. This is no secret. And I know that comes across as intense and scary and boys will run away screaming. But it's better that they run, saving me the time and leaving less to sift through.

I want a man who wants the same things I want, the way I want them. And I want all of that in a guy without kids.

Look, I've been responsible enough to not have kids by now. And I think since I have been responsible enough, he should have been too. I know accidents happen and ultimately he doesn't have the same kind of say in a pregnancy that the woman does. And there's a sad truth in that he can always walk away, as cowardly as that is. But is it too much to ask for a man who doesn't want kids at the moment to actively take a measure in preventing them?

And I know as I get older, this may be harder and harder to find. And it's not cool that someone as put together(ish) as me has to search for an equal. I'm smart, I'm pretty, I'm fun, I'm charming, and I don't have baggage. Ok that's a little lie. Everyone has baggage. It's just a matter of how you check it. But I'm not in the mood to check his carry on luggage. And kids? Carry on luggage.

Yummy

I love to eat. Seriously, for as small as I am, I used to be able to pack it away. I've stopped over eating as much though the past 2 years. But that doesn't mean I don't overindulge on special occasions. Like today, on Thanksgiving. (jeans were a bad choice)

Or the first year I really went to Taste of Cincinnati. I very diabolically sampled a lot of things by one friend getting one thing and I would get another, and we would share. And I avoided the beer until late in the evening becasue I was all about the food. Unlike the roommate who had called me in the first place to join them, he was tanked. And full. But anyway, it was super fun and supper yummy.

The next day a coworker asked if I had a fun time at taste and asked what all did I eat?
I start excitedly start ticking off my fingers and rattling off the following list:

• roasted corn
• fried chicken
• escargot
• ribs
• apple tartlet
  
• potato pancake
• ice cream
• Lemon ice
• fondue
  
• lobster ravioli
• meatballs
• fried pickles

"Whoa. How did you feel after that?"
"Honestly, a little bloated. But totally worth it. But that's also why I'm not in the mood to eat anything for a week now"

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Eating!

Birth Order

Originally, my parents wanted a boy and a girl. Enter me, so they changed it to girl and a boy. Enter my sister. So then they wanted two.

That's how many I want. Just two. I don't care what they are, and what order they come in. But if God's willing to throw me a bone, I will take one of each, the boy first so he protects his little sister and later on she can date his friends. And they will be Rhodes Scholars. And ridiculously good looking. And sweet and nice and adore their mother. And not need braces. And athletic. Is that pushing it? Maybe just a little?

Anyway, two. And when my ex and I talked about kids, he thought that was a good number. Two is just right. One would be a spoiled brat. Three you have the poor left-out middle kid, they out number you, plus I have an aversion to odd numbers. And 4+ was just too many if he wanted me to remain somewhat sane while rearing them.

But once he was being ornery and dared to challenge the plan. What happens if the girl come first? Or two of the same?
"Well, then we have two. It's not like I'm going to love them any less. I have a girl and boy, great. Two boys, you still have to potty train them both (and for god's sake, teach them to put the seat down!), and two girls means lots of pink! It doesn't matter. I just want to have a family."

"Oh ok." But then he opened his mouth again. And he said he hoped we got two boys if we have two of the same. Because "two girls would be, just, god..." here he actually shuddered, horrified at the thought.

"Hey! We turn out just FINE."
"Oh, right... you have a sister..."
"Yeah. How's that foot taste mister?"

Glee!

"open delight or pleasure, exultant joy, exultation." Also it's a show on Fox.

I had been hearing a decent amount about this show, and that the people that were into it were really into it. But I never found out when it was on, and I had other shows to obsess over, like True Blood and Mad Men (and don't judge me, Keeping up the Kardashians).

So when my girlfriends started talking about Glee, I asked them if it was worth getting into.
Michele: it has singing and dancing!
me: singing and dancing!?!? Why DON'T I watch this show?!

Seriously. Why haven't I been watching this show?

Singing? Check. Dancing? Check. Stereotypical high school characters that I can't get enough of? CHECK! Consider me hooked and caught up as of 8 pm this evening.

So in my zest of all things Glee, I've watched the last 5 episodes on Hulu and I've been obsessively googling YouTube clips of the song and dance numbers. The only problem with YouTube is that it's such a dangerous time suck. And I have no will power and fell head first down the internet rabbit hole. So In addition to Glee, I've also watched Kristen Chenoweth (love!) clips not related to the show, Indina Menzel's 2004 Tony acceptance speech (little choked up), Matt Morrison's video diary on Glee (cutie-cutie), and a medley from Hairspray at one of the Tony awards.

I wish life had more singing and/or dance montages. It would make class super fun!

Privacy Please

Some relationships have an open bathroom door policy. This is a solid NO in my book. But there are a few other things that I believe your man should never ever see you do (or know) if you want to keep the romance alive.

1. First: anything that closes the bathroom door, should remain behind the closed door and unknown. (I have a friend who believes that girls only poop once a year and nothing but rose petals come out. I accept this belief.)
2. Tweezing your eyebrows (this can be a bathroom thing or vanity area thing)
   
3. Putting on pantyhose (or any other support type garment for that matter). Nothing like a nylon chastity belt to put you in the mood.
   
4. Putting on or taking off false eyelashes (though my ex's face was hysterical when this occurred. But that's also why this is on the list)
5. The less than sexy underthings you wear on fat and/or laundry days (yes honey, those lace and corsets things with the wire and clasps are just like a second skin)
   
6. The exact number of black heels you own (darling, I only have 4 (that you can see...))

Now I know if I get married and live with another guy, at some point some of these things may get seen. (I shudder at the thought). And number 4 has obviously happened, or else it would not be on the list.
But I'm adamantly sticking to the bathroom door stays shut thing.