Anti-pink

WHAT?? You may be asking. How on earth is someone who's blog name is everything should be pink be anti pink on anything?

The one exception to my everything should be pink stance is the pink jersey. Jerseys should not be pink, because if you are going to support a team/college/player, you wear those team/college/player colors. Even if they are a hideous combination. Call me a purist. And really, sports that require jerseys are not cute clothes sports (like tennis or running). Jersey sports are sweaty (eww), hand-eye coordination (fail) physical (ugh) competitive (blech) things, cute isn't part of that equation. And pink, the only thing it supports is breast cancer. Well, it doesn't support cancer, it supports the research and preventative stuff. (and I'm all for protecting the ta-ta's) So pink, stay away from the jerseys. You don't belong on one.

Also, little bitter that breast cancer took my color. Yes I know how bitchy that is. But why did they take my color?

Stork

Seeing as I'm not an idiot, I do know where babies come from. I just firmly believe I came from the stork. Am also willing to accept the cabbage patch explanation. And if any of you tell me anything gross to the contrary, you are not allowed to talk to me until you accept my theory.

Also? Not an idiot, know it is physically possible to get knocked up while unmarried (and that's another judgy rant for another day about how I don't feel too terribly sorry for today's single moms by choice). Once again, I just firmly believe it is not possible for me.

Crush

So yep, I have a crush on my friend's younger brother. He's just as pretty in person as he is in photos. Too bad:

1. He lives far far away
2. He wanted to meet my brother-in-law (air force vs navy academy stories (navy baby! I'm loyal to my sister)) more then see me
3. My pouncing skills are rusty
4. I still can't out run his sister (I maybe able to out last her, but that doesn't matter if she tackles me first) even if I did pounce

However, just having something pretty to think about brightens my day a bit.

Wimper

I thought I was doing as well as I could given the circumstances. I had a new job, I signed up for classes, and I was getting a social life again. And then, I didn't like the new job, I'll be playing catchup in school this semester, and my social life started to wane because I was working 2 jobs. And then...

I get an email from him that he's giving up the dog. Surprise surprise, he can't take care of her. My wedding dress comes in. It's the holiday season so everything festive feels like it's mocking me. And my mother, cannot stop talking about how perfect my sister's husband is, he cooks, cleans, is handy, and how wonderful he is to my sister. I like the guy a lot, and I'm happy that she has him, but seriously mom, shut the hell up.

Well, all those combined, I'm not doing well. I can distract myself sometimes, but usually the loneliness and frustration get the better of me. I'm so frustrated, and still so indescribably hurt, that some nights I wish I don't wake up in the morning. And I'm tired of moving forward becasue it feels like I'm just spinning my wheels right now, which is exactly where I was in the first place. My mom told me I could get off the train when I was having doubts about the marriage. So I got off, and I feel like I'm an even rougher emotional place then where I started from. I know I'm being dramatic. I did the right thing. But the right thing sucks. I don't want him back. But I want to stop hurting.

You germ-a-phobes can kiss my ass

Last year I was a sniffling, coughing, sneezing, aching dayquil poster child. Well, that is until they changed the formula of the quils so it could still sell it over the counter. It doesn't work as well anymore (or at all). And I loved being on day/nyquil. Stupid meth heads, you ruined it for the rest of us.

Now I cough properly into my shoulder or elbow. I wash my hands thoroughly. I'm very aware if raw meat has touched something. I'm up to date on booster shots, immunizations and had a tetanus shoot last year (sucker hurt like a mother f*cker too!). I take preventive health care measures. But you people, you germ-a-phobes, annoy me. Because your apocalypse stockpile of anti-bacterial hand gel isn't going to be your saving grace from the world of evil germs. Yes, sterilization is important, and it is imperative in clinical settings. But in every day life, really, it can be unnecessary. It's you people who go to the doctor and demand antibiotics every time you get the sniffles that we have super bugs like MRSA. There's something to be said about being too freaking sterilized. Seriously, give your immune system a chance to form it's own protection.

Well anyway, last year-dayquil poster child. I ended up missing a day of work becasue a stupid cold knocked me out. Well, when I got back, I popped my behind the counter pills at 6 hour intervals (the kind you have to show your id for, sign your life away and are only allowed to buy 3 boxes a year becasue they are awesome) and sucked on cough drops like candy so I wouldn't scare people (I worked at employee health, it's bad form to have one of the front desk people not healthy). But I sounded awful, and I my coughing wasn't completely suppressed. Plus I looked like hell, you could tell I was sick. Well, my 23 year old coworker (she'll always be that to me) followed me around with a cavcide wipe (hospital grade anti-bacterial wipes) wiping everything I had touched, or she primly used the anti-bacterial hand gel every time I coughed. QUITE ANNOYING. So after one too many feverish cavicide swipes of the office, as she sat down, I croaked out "Joke's on you, I licked one of your pens."

Handbag

I'm not a designer purse kind of gal. Not to say I'd turn one down as a gift (which is how I got a Prada bag (yes that was a name drop, no I don't care.), but I won't buy one for myself. And as much as I adore Kate Spade handbags, I don't love her stuff that much to pay those designer prices.
Really, I don't care to shop for purses at all. I get bored quick with it (unlike shoes which I could shop for hours), and I want to find the "perfect" bag. Not too small-becasue then you can't fit anything in it. Not too big-becasue then I'll put way too much stuff in it (like an umbrella) and I don't like a heavy purse-even if it is a lethal weapon. It must be easy to open/close. I would like pockets or a compartment of some sort, but not one of those stupid cell phone pockets. Because no one uses those. I like a more structured bag as opposed to a slouchy bag so the contents don't fall out of the purse when I get tired of closing it. And I prefer handles and not shoulder straps. I like to swing the thing. And it must be classic, I'm going to carry it for a while.
When I find a purse I like, I use it a long time. I'm willing to spend more if I can use it a few seasons. But I've lucked out: the 2 purses that I use the most, and have received the most compliments on? Combined total: under $30

Merry Christmas!

Even though it's been a rough holiday season for me, I'm very thankful for what I do have in life. I have a roof over my head, I'm employed, but most of all, I have a loving family and lifelong friends. I have people. And without them, well, I don't want to think about where I would be. Santa might not have brought me everything on my list (no island, but I did get an Aston Martin!), but I already have what I value most in the world.
So Merry Christmas everyone!

Shiney

My sister pointed something out to me: in my 10 years of dating, of my 6 serious boyfriends, 5 of them have given me jewelry

1. 1st boyfriend: a heart necklace for valentines day. We broke up a week later. Right, I'm a bitch. Is being 16 a good defense?
   
2. 2nd boyfriend: a bracelet on my 17th birthday, and earrings for our 6 month-versary. I lost the bracelet when it fell out of my band bag (while we were dating), and one of the earrings at some point. I don't think I ever told him that...oops
   
3. 3rd boy: a ring for valentines day. He put it on my right hand, and later remarked "oh it's on the wrong hand." And I said "no, nothing goes on that hand unless it's a diamond" We had talked about marriage, then I remembered, we were 18.
   
4. 4th boyfriend: Nothing shiny. Boo.
   
5. 5th boyfriend: necklace from Tiffany's. Because I (drunkenly) said "I want just one thing from that store and I'll be happy for the rest of my life" And he drunkenly remembered. Plus it was Christmas, how was I to know he would take my suggestion to heart?
   
6. 6th boyfriend/the ex: 2 necklaces and earrings as anniversary/birthday/graduation presents, and the all important engagement ring.

However, I have never actually asked for jewelry, except the engagement ring. And that wasn't an ask really, that was a "there will be a ring or I will not say yes" statement. So future husband: you are really only required 2 pieces, the engagement ring and wedding band. But, it would be prudent of you to remember this tidbit: at some point I would like a strand of pearls for as a wedding anniversary gift (becasue my sister and I are fighting over who gets mom's. This way, no more fighting!), and every time I birth one of your children (drugged or not), I would like something shiny to commemorate the occasion besides stretch marks. Oh right, I get a baby out of it. Meh, I can always use more earrings.

MY Registry

I was itching to start my registry. Technically, it was supposed to be ours, but really, it was going to be all my doing. Like I would give him a say in something as important as the china pattern. Ha! Because he has such klassy taste (sarcasm is dripping here)

Clearly, I was going to ask for the ubiquitous kitchen aid mixer in pink. And the bender had to match. Oh oh, while I'm at it, a pink tea pot would be super cute too! And really, I wasn't going to let him pick out the pots (calphalon), knives (henkles), everyday dishes (fiestaware! in scarlet, cobalt, sunflower, shamrock, tangerine, plum and black), or the flatware. He wasn't going to get a say in the coffee maker (he didn't drink it anyway), the food processor (wouldn't use that either), the kitchen linens, the bake ware (becasue I did all the baking), the color coded cutting boards. He owned 250 thread count sheets - NO. So no way was he allowed to pick the sheets or matching down comforter. Or the fluffy factor of the towels, what color the shower curtain should be, how many vases and picture frames we needed... Right, I wasn't really going to give much of a say in anything. I have a feeling he would eventually pitch a fit over something stupid like wanting an ugly toothbrush holder. And I would relent at the moment to avoid a sceen, but I'm sneaky enough to go back the next day and change it. One thing I was going to let him pick was the griddle. He could have whichever one he wanted. Because that is what he was going to make me fabulous pancakes on (and serve them to me in bed on the tray I picked out), so it should be something he likes. But that was it.

I think this is a fabulous plan. I think I'll keep it in place for my real wedding. But my right guy is a classy guy so this whole you-seriously-have-no-taste-issue shouldn't arise. Or better yet, he just shuts his pie hole and gives me the scanner gun. But I'll be nice and I won't really ask for the pink blender. Maybe.
But dammit, I'm getting that pink mixer.

Poking Myself in the Eye

Guys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses. Sh*t, does that mean I have to start wearing my contacts again?

I have crappy vision, crappy enough that I must wear some sort of corrective lens to function in everyday life. I once lost both my contacts at work and I had to get boyfriend to drive me home since I seriously couldn't see 12" in front of me (we were working together that night, fortuitous timing). Lesson learned, there is now a spare pair of glasses in my car for instances like that.

And becasue I have gotten lazy the past few years, I pretty much wear my contacts only when I'm (a) interviewing for jobs, (b) going out for a night on the town or (c) running. And none of these things are happening at the moment. Mornings before work I'm not coherent enough to know my name, so the business with the contacts is a fail plan. Plus those suckers start to burn and/or itch like hell after a while. So I wear my glasses all the time now. And I have really cute frames too; black plastic frames w/zebra print arms. Squee! Though I will totally admit I was going for the naughty librarian look when I picked them out. Maybe cute isn't the correct term... But if that old adage is true, does that mean I have to start poking myself in the eye again to get a new boyfriend? Boo.

Naked!

The less time I spend naked the better. I don't think too many of you are disappointed by that. Now if you would burn that mental image out of your mind I would appreciate it. I admit I haven't been the most modest in my past. I used to wear jeans 4" bellow my belly button like they were my right, and when I got my "growth spurt" (ie: when I suddenly became stacked) I didn't wear a top that wasn't a v-neck. And push-ups (of the Victoria Secret variety)? Were my my new bff (still are, who am I kidding).

Well anyway, I've grown up some and now I'm not so much into the skin showing. So the more time I spend with clothes on the better. But really, it's not because I'm Prudie McPrudeton. Nope, I like lot's o-clothes becasue it's cold now. I do not like my skin to be uncovered for a second. Even the 5 seconds from bathrobe to scalding shower is too much time for me to be exposed to the elements. But in the summer, I'm sure I'll be whining how hot I am and I'll be saying "the less clothes the better" God I'm a fickle.

Why I'll never be a grown up

I swear to god, there is a company in town called: Big Ass Fans. Seriously. Their logo is a donkey's butt. And no matter what, every time I hear about it or someone says they work there, I can't help but grin and start to giggle. Every. Single. Time.

This is why I'll never be a grown up. Because a words on an ass's ass make me laugh.

Sneeky Starbucks

Starbucks makes me use their lingo.

I refuse to order my stuff, tall, venti, grande. Because it annoys me. If I'm going to pay $4 for a cup of fancy coffee, I am going to order it how I damn well want it. Well, they have this fantastic seasonal latte; the pumpkin spice. It's all sorts of deliciousness, and I treat myself to one at some point during the fall. Well, I had a super craving for it, and the Starbucks kiosk was 20' across from me. And I was shopping, I needed sustenance in the form of foamy caffeinated seasonal goodness. So I ordered a small pumpkin spice latte. And the cashier guy asked "now, do you want the small or the tall? Because this is the small" and holds up this 6 oz joke of a coffee cup. And my hand flies to my chest and I gasp "oh no! That's terribly small!" So I begrudgingly ordered the my pumpkin spice tall.

Fine Starbucks, you win, I will use your fancy size language. But I still won't be ordering anything skinny, no foam, half calf, or other bull sh*t. So there.

Twirl

Because I have a friend in med school, I make her answer all my medical questions. She humors me and gives me answers, but she also includes the disclaimer that she is not a doctor yet and this is not actual professional advice. But we've been friend for a long time (about 15 years I think) and as much nonsense we talk with each other, we do have some interesting conversations about medical stuff (because I ask a lot of questions).

One day, we got on the subject of autism, and how the professor from my human sexuality class (of course I took that one) told us this story: After all sorts of unsuccessful therapies, this extremely autistic child was wrapped tightly in a blanket and then rolled around on the floor. Which sounds ridiculous, but basically, they overstimulated the kid. So when the kid sat up, he stays still for a bit and then focused on his parents, which he may have never been able to do. But the theory behind that is that the over stimulation righted something in his head. At least temporarily.

So she went on the tell me another similar theory. You know how you have 2 halves of your brain, and there are many connectors between them. And in autistic kids, the connectors don't connect and/or relay info like a normal brain does (and this is all my interpretation only). What the over stimulation did for that kid was that made the connections work or align correctly. And she asked, why do you think little kids spin around with their arms outstretched? They are essentially over stimulating themselves and getting things realigned in their head, weather it's the physical connection by shaking things into place or just getting the info between the halves. (still, just babbling medical gibberish here) Fascinating, yes?

And as smart as this conversation sounds, when she asked the rhetorical why do kids spin question, my out loud super grown up response was, "uh, 'cause it's awesome!"

The 5 stages of grief

Denial: Check. Done thinking nothing was wrong. Have admitted everything was wrong
Anger: All the time. Bitter flag is waving high. But I think I've stopped telling random people "f*ck you and your happiness" (under my breath)
Bargaining: No longer saying if he does A then I'll do B and so forth. No longer wishing on every star. As much.
Depression: All the time. I don't go a day without crying, even if it is just a little tear up.
Acceptance: I thought I was getting there.

I'll shut the vent soon. I promise. I've got 2 of the 5 taken care of. I've gotten this far, even if it isn't by leaps and bounds. I've gotten this unfar with a lot of people's love and support, and I don't know how to show my gratitude for it. But until then, the only thing that I feel that helps me is to just vent. I think when our wedding day arrives, and it hits me, wow, this really isn't happening... I'll be able accept the failure for real. I'll realize there were two of us in that relationship, and two of us to cause so much pain (though I still want to blame him for everything). So there's a light at the end of the tunnel so to speak, even if it is aways off. The vent will close, the door will shut and I won't look back. And that's a good feeling to know.

Happy/Sad

It wasn't all bad. In fact, a lot of us was really good. Happy even. It's so easy to focus on the end and get scathingly mad. But as time goes on, and the anger starts to subside, I start to remember the good, and there really was a lot of good. I truly wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. There were a lot of happy moments, and now they hurt too much to remember them. Because that's all it is now, just a memory. And now that I can recall the good, I'm aching in unhappiness.

There are things I'll never forget, like every detail of the proposal. I gasped as he dropped to one knee. I had thought I would be too shocked to even say anything when he asked, instead I screamed yes for the whole world to hear. How I burst into tears right after I said yes. I remember what we both were wearing, and how the purple the sky was as the sun set. My heart was racing as I was thinking "oh-my-god-oh-my-god-this-can't-be-the-moment-oh-my-god-this-is-the-moment." I remember him telling me I could look at the ring, since I hadn't at first becasue I was too busy jumping up and down screaming excited. I remember complete strangers cheering from their balcony as we walked back to the condo. I remember the way he looked at me all day, like I was the love of his life. I remember everything.
And there are 1000 pictures to remember it too. Glasses on, no makeup, hair disheveled, and I can't tell if he's red becasue of his sunburn or from blushing. Some of those pictures are framed, both of us glowing with happiness. And they are all packed in a box I may never open again.

Well, we all know I'm not that happy anymore. Him putting the ring on my finger was the happiest moment of my life. And me handing it back to him was the saddest. There aren't any pictures to remember that moment. But that's ok, I remember enough as it is.

To a better 2009

Last December, I worked roughly 60 hours a week between 2 jobs, fought a nasty cold for a month, and somehow went apartment hunting too. Not to mention holiday shopping and baking (because I had sooo much time to do that), the dog was getting fixed that month (so on pain meds and was wearing a cone that knocked into everything) and my fiance wouldn't touch me, hell, even come near me because he "couldn't afford to get sick" (and I could? Did you think I was working my ass off for the fun of it? Not because I was trying to save money for our wedding you jackass). Needless to say, I was stressed. I was exhausted, cranky, sick and my my feelings were hurt on top of all that. So I wasn't a tinsel twinkling ray of Christmas cheer when I pulled double duty at the second job. One night I told one co-worker that I hated working with another coworker because "she smells like cat pee or stale snatch." Suddenly I was known as the cranky bartender. Fine by me, people left me alone that way.

So new years eve, I did not want to go out. I had only worked a few hours bartending and made it home by 10 o'clock, but I was in no mood to be social. I wanted to be in my pj's, snuggled tight against his chest on the couch with a bottle of champagne and get my new years kiss. That was it. But he wanted to go over to his friend's house, where they're all smoking like chimneys, getting obnoxiously drunk on crappy beer and going to annoy the crap out of me being the trashy people that they are. And I told him, "I don't want to go, because I'm exhausted, it's smokey, and I don't want to leave the dog alone (She was off the pain killers by then). And instead of remembering how much he missed me on Christmas (we spent it at each of our own parents houses' and not together) and had agreed to no more holiday's apart, he left me anyway. He even waited until after I got home from work just to make sure I really didn't want to go. So I spent new years eve in my pj's on the couch, where I fell asleep before midnight, the dog curled up around my feet, and with no champagne. I woke up right as they were counting down the new year, only to give the dog a quick kiss. Yes, it's exactly as sad as it sounds. And when he called me at midnight, to wish me happy new year, he was pretty unhappy surrounded by all the other couples and remember how much loved me. He remorsefully said "I should have stayed with you." My response was, "Yes. You should have." And then I went to bed alone.

Here's hoping 2009 is a much better year.

Book Recomendation

Might I recommend The Golden Compass? It's a children's book, but it's not a pretty pretty picture book (I could loose hours looking at those though) or See Jane run learn to read either. There have been a few times I've raised my eyebrows and thought, this is a children's book? I honestly wouldn't recommend it to anyone under 14.

It was made into a movie last year w/Daniel Craig (mmm), and Nicole Kidman. And I advise you see it first just so you know how to pronounce a few things. I know fantasy writing allows liberties with the English language, but it's British fantasy... But when the movie came out, there was a big hoopla with a bunch of churches, telling their congregations to boycott the movie. I think the trilogy was written by an atheist, and in the third book the rumor is that the characters try to "kill god." Meh, the controversy just gave it more publicity and the churches shut up real fast when they saw they were driving people to it rather then away from it.

Well, I was reading it at my mom's office while I waited for her get off work (we used to car pool). I was keeping quiet and to myself like a well behaved young lady, when suddenly I just bust out, "well, no wonder the church groups got all twitty about this, they're doing opium in the first chapter!" And then I went back to my quiet zone. Still, pretty good read so far though.

Girlish Figure

One day, a coworker or acquaintance of some sort asked me how I stayed so "impossibly skinny" when I ate the way I do. (I was probably eating something horribly fattening and enjoying it). And I looked at them and said, "easy, I'm just going to throw it up later."

They got all wide eyes and started backing away.

Note to self: bulimia jokes are not funny yet.

Warped Reality

Some of you may remember this, but back in high school (man, I need more recent stories), the movie Grease was re-released in theaters. Being the group of musical lovers that we are, (seriously) we had to see this together. But the real story isn't how we sang along in the theater (becasue we did, possibly in harmony), it's this:

Like all movies, there were previews. And I was sitting next to my frienemy because she needed as much distance as possible between her and her bff''s boyfriend. She hated him for the reason every girl hates another girl's boyfriend: he took away my friend. Plus she was desperately single (and remained that way through most of high school) as salt in the wound. Well, during one of the previews, she starts tearing up becasue the character on screen had twirled romantically into her Prince Charming's arms. And while dabbing her eyes, she says bitterly, "see, even they have someone."

It was preview for a cartoon movie. A cartoon. A story that someone made up. And then took the time to draw the story that was made up (or embellished for storytelling purposes). She was jealous over a 5 second romantic clip of a cartoon character. Just imagine the face I'm making right now. It's probably close to the same one you're doing.

Well, maybe I shouldn't roll my eyes that much. Because there are times now I find myself unable to watch cute couple romance crap on screen without my eyes welling up (Sex and the City Movie while depressed=baaaad idea, very bad idea). In my defense, I am currently a 26-year-old dealing w/a broken engagement, not a 16-year-old who hadn't had a boyfriend yet. But even then, I raised my eyebrows over this. At least I'm not crying over a cartoon romance. (The Little Mermaid is a different story though, that wedding gets me every time).

Troop 98

I sorta dated my way through a boy scout troop. It's not as whorey as it seems. Long story short, in high school I was in this group thing called Ventures. Or what I refer to as: co-ed boy scouts. It was partnered up with one of the troops in town, but I pretty much joined to go on a week long sailing trip in the spring (and my frienemy made me). I even real camped at one point (and haven't since w/out the aid of booze). Anyway, I had a tendency to date/crush on the guys in the troop (who were my age). My first boyfriend had been a member of that troop, but he left once he got his Eagle. And then I brought him to co-ed boy scouts when we were dating. Welcome back with open arms and whatnot. He left pretty soon after we broke up, gee I wonder why? Couldn't have been me... that and he left for basic training soon after. Meh, I moved on to the cute shy guy in the troop and turned him into my second boyfriend (who I snagged on the sailing trip that I originally joined for anyway). And I my senior prom date was a guy from there too. But that's pretty much it, nothing more really.

I think (ok, I know) I flirted with almost all the guys in that troop. Because I could. And the scout moms hated me. It took me a long time to understand why, but they were momma bears protecting their cubs from the enemy known as teenage girl. When word got around I was going to prom with one of their beloved scouts (as friends, who by the way, was the one to ask me), their first reaction was not: tell me about your dress, like the were asking my frienemy (it was navy with silver flowers in case you we wondering). No no, they all felt it was their duty to inform me: "you know he's leaving for college right?" And my response: "I am too." Geeze women, I wasn't going to wrap all my dreams in a boy from high school (I dream wrapped later in life).

But now that I think about it, I should go back to chasing scouts (oh wait, I'm not chasing right now) Well, not the ones actually in the troop now, becasue that's illegal. But in theory, the guys who continue through scouts into high school (I think they drop the "boy" part somewhere around puberty) are pretty put together guys later in life. Always prepared, honorable and other virtues they get in that handbook thing. Plus there's some sort of code they follow and you know how I'm stickler for the rules.

So, boys, I'm back in town, and I'm single again! (Scout moms be dammed)

Beyonce Annoys Me

"If you like it then shoulda put a ring on it." Shut up Beyonce. I had the ring. And it ruined everything.

That bitter aside, I don't think she's a bad singer. I don't think she's that great though. I think she's a bit all over the place voice range. Also, her fierce stage personality Sasha becasue she's shy herself is complete and utter bull poop. If you're shy and don't want the spotlight, stay out of it. Give it to someone who at least admits they're an attention whore. And why the hell is she soooo sexy? I admit she has a rocking body. But one thing I'll never get is her "dancing." Personally I think she looks like a fish flopping on dry land. And I think her robot glove is stupid also. I don't even want to know how much she spent on that useless "glove."

Why am I ripping on her? I'm crippled with envy of her success.

Brit Brit

This may not come as a shock to people, but I love Britney Spears. Not enough to actually buy her album, but I don't love anyone enough to do that. I think the last album I bought was John Mayer if that tells you anything. I had a slightly unhealthy obsession with the man a few years ago (before he became the semi-tool he is now). My intentions were for him to see me and fall in love with me on the spot, and I was going to become Mrs John Mayer. Very simple plan really. Someone was humoring me and asked what I was changing my name to when we got married (clearly) and what was I planning on going by, Sarah Mayer, was I going to hyphenate (which I think is bull sh*t)? I said, "no you don't understand, my full name is going to be Mrs John Mayer. That's it." Actually, I would still marry him. No harm in rubbing a bit of salt in a particular someone's wound now is there? (I'm petty, I have no problem w/this). See, I'm perfectly happy being a real rock star's wife (also bitchy, still, no problem w/it).

Back to the subject at hand. Britney Spears. And after watching her new video, my first thought was: All right Brit-Brit, welcome back! I am all about the pop tarts ruling the charts again. I love a good diva war. It's high time popular music was actually pop. Because I love pop music (no big surprise there), and since all the boy bands have disbanded (sad), I want the bubble gum pop music of my youth back! Now excuse me while I sing along. Loudly.

I love Throwing Parties

Ergo, I love throwing showers. So when I was my sister's maid of honor, I was pretty happy to throw her one. I was fairly relaxed about it though. I shopped for prizes and favors on my own time, finalized the menu in an hour and then timed everything pretty well. And what really helped was that I was able to delegate a lot of things to other people. And the other bridesmaid was super eager to help, she did a lot of the cooking prep work, which made everything run really smooth. For 10 seconds during the planning process, my mom worried something was a bit over the top. But I told her, I want to do it this way. This is for my sister, my only sibling, and we're going to do this right, and I'm more then happy to do so. She's going to have the best bridal shower a girl could dream of.

And success! The food went over very well (even the vegetarians were happy), people enjoyed the games, and Amy broke one ribbon for her mother-in-law. We had relatives from out of town come in for it, and a lot of Amy's friends from high school were able to come as well. Turns out this was Amy's first bridal shower, it just happened to be her own. It was a classic shower, and everyone had a good time.

But the best moment for me wasn't when watching her open the gifts, or talking to the extended family. It wasn't laughing at Amy's witty answers or marveling how well she knows her husband (I mean, she knows what his super power would be). My favorite moment came much later in the evening. We were going to bed and my sister decided to sleep in my room since the bed in her room is uncomfortable. And just before she fell asleep, Amy turned around and said to me, "thank you for the party." And that was the best moment of her shower for me.

Christmas List

• This Kate Spade handbag
• A pony (where the hell is it? I've been asking for years!)
• An advanced copy of the new Sookie book (seriously, I have to wait until May?).
• All of Jen Lancaster's books
• A UK sweatshirt or some other UK paraphernalia (I even like the butt shorts)
  
• Clinique Happy Heart perfume (I like to smell pretty)
• Body Butter from the Body Shop (any one but the coconut one!)
• An island in the Greek Isles (with a vacation house and wait staff included)
• Season 4 of the Office (I have 1-3 already)
• New jeans/clothes (a lot of stuff doesn't fit that well anymore)
• A body pillow
• An Aston Martin (wait, is it a stick shift? Because I can't drive it if it is)
• Peace on earth, and goodwill towards all mankind

And a few other small things:

• Tuition
• My dog. I'll take her over the pony
• An apology from you know who

Some stuff you just can't wrap. Like the island. That's simply to much paper to waste.

Happy Holidays!

I'm baking cookies this year! Real dough made from scratch break out the rolling pin use a cookie cutter baking. First up, gingerbread. I used to bake it every year, but when I was in college it tapered off a bit. No time, a tiny kitchen, a little thing called hell week (project week). But when I came home home, I could just eat the cookies my mom made, and I didn't have to bake. And mom's never allowed to stop baking becasue someone has to make the candy cane cookies, and I simply can't make them as pretty as she can.

Last year I wanted to make cookies, but all I had time for was peppermint bark, which took forever to get rid of. My almost MiL made tons of cookies and gave us plates and plates of them, but honestly, I wasn't that impressed. Maybe one day I'll tell you I thought a lot of her cooking/baking was pretty bland. Oops, I guess I just did. Now now, tis not the season to be bitchy (that starts next month)

Anywho, I'm going to festive up the place this weekend. I'm getting out of this I'm alone and broken hearted funk. The decorations are being brought out, and the gingerbread dough is made and just waiting to be cut into an army of little men. I like to eat them head first so you can't hear them scream. And there's snow here! A tiny dusting that wouldn't keep the kids out of school, but still, it's very pretty and winter wonderland-ish.
Fa la la la la!

Suck It Clariol

I am a brunette. Which is a fancy word for plain brown. It's not dark brown, light brown, or auburn. Not walnut, not chocolate, chestnut, honey brown, copper brown, or mahogany. I don't have golden highlights or espresso low lights. I'm just plain brown.

I don't dye my hair, and I've been told my color is beautiful. I smile and say thank you, but I don't feel that way. I feel plain and unnoticed most of the time, unable to stand out or ever able to achieve bombshell status. And even if I did start dying my hair, I don't even know which direction to go, nor do I care paying for a professional or the upkeep either.

I guess what irks me is that I hardly ever hear anyone dying their hair brown (unless trying to cover the gray that is). It's always more blond or more red. Rarely is it more brown. I've heard of enhancing with hazelnut highlight and/or sable low lights. And when a blond star dyes their hair brown, it's always "for a role." Never because she wants to be brunette. And the press is overjoyed when she goes back to blond. You never hear "she's a bottle brunette." So does anyone willingly dye brunette? Not really, I think they just do that because they bitterly can't go blond or red. So they do the lightest brown they can find and then highlight the hell out of it.

Don't even get me started on eyes. Damn things are plain brown too.

Fa Lah Lah La La!

I like Christmas music. And now that it is officially the holiday season, (after thanksgiving people, AFTER) I feel it's appropriate to listen. Though why do the radio stations keep playing the same version every 15 songs or so? Is there a quota of The Miriah Carey song (you know what I'm talking about) they have to meet every day? I do like that song, I just don't like it 8 times a day.

I'm not against today's music starts putting out a holiday album (for a Christmas album is not PC you see). But why do they insist on adding their own personal touch to the songs? It's a Classic Christmas carol! Keep it that way! And for every beautiful rendition of a classic carol (like my big fancy music term there?), there are so, so many other crappy versions. And why people, why, why, why, can you not just sing the damn song the way it is?!? It's a classic, not yours! Leave it alone!

You know who got it right? Nat King Cole. Every single time. That is how a Christmas Carol should be sung.

Co-ed

What should I do now that I'm about to be a college co-ed again? Should I join a club or something? Could I even join a sorority? (I'm not knocking them, I considered rushing my freshman year) Study at the library? Can I be the girl who wears her pj's to class? Run for student government? Get involved in campus life? I may even attempt to attend a sporting event or two (it's actually hard to get tickets to UK stuff). And I'll actually cheer for my team too, unlike my first college go-round (not that I rooted against them, I just didn't care enough to cheer for them at all).

I'm going back as an older student though, so I'm not sure how well I'll fit in. My peers aren't really my peers. And since I'm a dork already, I feel like I have the cards slightly stacked against me. This is one instance I'm kinda glad I look 19. But if all else fails, I bet I can bribe a freshman into being my minion by buying it beer (though I will teach it the finer properties of bourbon before I consider letting it be my friend)

I'm going to throw up

My wedding dress came in today.
FUCK

Rock and a Hard Place

I want my dog. I want her so bad that I'm even looking at getting my own place, paying needless rent and everything else just so I can have her. But to pay rent, I need money. So I need to work full time. But one of the big draws of being home is going back to school full time. And I need money for that too. I won't do well in school if I work. And I won't go back to school if I'm working full time. I'd have to do both to have her here. And if I'm working full time and going to school full time, then I won't have any time for the dog I want so bad in the first place.
God dammit Mark, why did you ruin everything?!

Arrrgh

It's like he finally understands. For Christ sake, now he starts to understand! Not two months ago when we were at the make it or break it point. Not while I was looking at apartments, or packing my things. Not before I quit my job and uprooted my life. Not even giving back the ring made him understand the gravity of the situation.

No, it has to be now, when I was starting to think I was moving forward. Too little too late like always. No, it's now he's realizing what a fool he is. Maybe one day he'll truly want the same things I want. Maybe he'll even want them with me. He might be a real husband and a devoted dad one of these days. He's going to be all the things I want for somebody else. And the only reason he ever got there in the first place is because I was the practice. And that sucks. It's not fair it's not fair it's not fair! Some days I want to wring his neck and pop off his over inflated head. Other days I want him to come flying back to me and starting over. I want him to see every single dream fall apart in front of him. But most days I just want to not feel anything.

I'm a firm believer in karma. And I can't remember doing anything that particularly naughty. So I better be in for the most wonderful time of my life. Because nothing is worth this much conflict. Nothing.