My Nephew, Miss America, and the Boy Downstairs

I know the subject line is random, but stay with me. You should know by now that I am a random girl. I know most writing gurus would advise me to choose one topic, but since this is my blog, I guess I can do whatever I want. These topics have nothing to do with each other...just a beautiful celebration of life, a funny time with the girls, and yet another ridiculous run in with a cute boy, who apparently, I cannot hold a civil conversation with. They are in no way of equal value. I just haven't written in a while and a few fun/ funny things have happened since. Sorry to the five of you who read this. :)



Please check out this little guy...




This is my brand-spankin' new nephew. I already love him so much and he's only about 4 weeks old. I spent a long weekend, weekend before last, staring and marveling at him. He is so cute and cuddly, but is a strong boy! I am so proud and excited to be an Aunt! His momma and daddy are incredible people in the first place, but are also amazing to watch as they unfold into these beautiful parents. So incredible...

Change of topic...the girls and I watch part of Miss America on Saturday night. It was insane...and you wonder why girls in our society have body image issues. Competitions such as this promote outer beauty, but fail to build and compliment women's mental capacities. They spend about 2 1/2 seconds on discussion of politics and/or social issues and the rest of the show is "who is the prettiest one." And this year, they did this new things where each contestant took way too long to introduce herself with something cutsie like the following...

"From the state where everything is bigger and better and the home of President George Bush, I'm XYZ, from Houston, Texas."

And each of them would drag out their state name until they could no longer breathe. And of course, many of them started walking in one direction, realized their mistake, graced the audience with a fake "I meant to do that" smile, and switched directions to walk the other way.

Here's my impression...sorry it's sideways, I don't know how to turn it right...

Finally, I have (yet another) great moment of single hood. The Sunday before I went back to work after having mono for too long, I realized that a new neighbor moved in downstairs. I was trying to bask in the glory of one more day of freedom and all I could hear was banging on the walls from below...not the sex kind of banging like the earlier post, but just irritating, hanging stuff on the walls, kind of banging. I was near walking down there to tell her/ him to knock it off, but didn't have the energy at the time. Glad I didn't too...HE'S a cutie...with a dog! So of course, I don't have the courage to actually talk to him (hints the reason why I'm still single), but I had words with him today! So, I'm walking towards the gate to my building where you have to punch in a code on this keypad before the door will unlock and let you in and when I reached out to punch in the code, I was startled by this enormous dog sitting on the other side of the gate!

Cute boy/ dog owner: "Oh I'm so sorry!"

And of course, I tired to play it cool (since I damn near dropped everything I was carrying) and I smoothly let him know that I'm totally into dogs...

Me: "Oh that's okay, I'm not scared of dogs, I just wasn't expecting him to be sitting right there."

Like he asked if dogs bothered me or not...what a loser! He was probably thinking, "I don't really give a crap, I just want to get on with my run." So then, I had to continue (of course)...

Me: "Is he friendly?"

Cute boy/ dog owner: "Oh, yea...very...he's a 130 pound lap dog."

Me: nervous laugh (what do I say next?! what comes next?! someone get me the f*ing script!)

Me: "What's his name?"

Cute boy/ dog owner: "Bailey."

And then, I've got nothin'...it was like an angle and a demon battling it out in my head:

Angel: Ask him if he's the one that just moved in below you!

Demon: No, dip shit! He'll think you're stalking him!

Angel: Just ask! He seems like a nice guy!

Demon: Please! You'll look like a fool! He wants to go on a run!

Angel: Ask him if he wants to come up for a boiled dinner! Boys would completely dig that meal!

Demon: DON'T DO IT!! SAY GOOD-BYE!!

And the demon won (for now!). So I just said good-bye and that was it. When I called Amanda and relayed the ridiculous story, she asked, "well, did you get his name?" Of course not...that would have been too easy to ask.

So for now, he will be known as Bailey's owner.

Memories of the Seventh Grade

I have been so exhausted when I get home from work. I am in a fog most of the day...it's like when you wake up and it takes you a little while to get into the day...you need your coffee, shower, etc. to begin functioning...except in my case, I never actually get into it. I just stay in the fog.

One good thing that comes from the aftermath of mono is that I've been sleeping REALLY well at night, which I know is a small and pointless thing to be grateful for, but I can't stand it when I can't fall asleep and I really LOVE being able to fall into a deep sleep.

Anyway, I was on the couch on Monday night watching Dance War...I was hoping I'd love the dancing aspect of this show, but frankly, the talent is pathetic, the judges love everyone in the competition, and they are performing like cheesy riverboat entertainers. I decided that it was time to turn off the TV when four boys wearing jeans, tight white t-shirts and little black vests started singing to "End of the Road" by Boys to Men. Seriously? I had to check the calendar to make sure I hadn't slipped into a coma. Yep. It's 2008. I thought we had slipped back into the late 80's/ early 90's. It was then that I had an image of dancing with Mark Massey at my 7th grade Christmas dance circa 1993. I was wearing a black dress that was suede on the bodice and poofed out from the waist down. It went down to about my knee and I was wearing hose and heels for probably the first time ever. My hair was equally as poofy as the bottom part of my dress and I'm sure I was wearing rhinestones on some part of my body. It wasn't pretty. At the time, I didn't appreciate my scrawny ass little figure. Wish I could still eat anything I wanted and have pretzel sticks for thighs. We did the usual 7th grade dance move...my arms were straight around his neck, his were straight around my waist and we swayed from side to side for 3 1/2 minutes while the DJ let the song roll.

The grown men on the screen stopped singing (and don't kid yourself if one of them didn't cheesily kneel down at Carrie Ann's feet and actually kissed her hand...eewww...I'd slap any man's face who ever dared do that) and I knew it was time for bed.

I appreciate dance...I love watching it and I love doing it, but for the love of Nancy, this is the worst display of singing and dancing I have ever seen.

Two Little Words...and You've Got Yourself a Villian

First of all, I would like to say that I am writing this at work! This is an enormous accomplishment as my school system server usually bumps me off all websites/ email access that is not school related because they always think we're looking up porn! But here I am, without any site protector blocking me! YES!!

I've been meaning to blog about this for a while now, but I'm just getting around to it...mostly because I forgot about it and then I heard it again and knew it was time to share it with the world. I am hoping that men across the universe will read this blog, figure it out, and fix this problem. Surely, I'm not the ONLY woman hearing these ridiculous words.

Here's the thing...my father, who is just about THE most wonderful man in the world can tell me to take care when ever and where ever he wants. Frankly, he says it to me just about every Sunday before I leave to go home and begin my week. He also follows it up with "work hard and do your best" which he's told me every day since I was a little girl. Sometimes, he'll even text me really early in the morning with "WHADYB" which are the initials for that phrase. And yes, it's true, my father sends me texts messages...and they're really good...tell you about those later. My point is that he can tell me to "take care" and I know he truly means it. He honestly wants me to take care of myself. He wants to be sure that I am safe and sound and a happy person and he wants to hear about my adventures on the next Sunday dinner. Other men, however, are not allowed to ever tell me that.

The whole "take care" scenario began at the end of an eight year relationship that I had with this guy who I dated through out high school and college and when we were getting off the phone after breaking up, he actually uttered, "well, take care." Please tell me I'm not crazy. How do you go from emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually giving so much of yourself to "well, take care." It is just about the most ridiculous, impersonal thing I've ever heard. So when this happened years and years ago, it became a complete joke with my girlfriends and I.

And apparently, men don't change much from 22 to 33 because after I told Bruno that I didn't think I should talk to him for a while, he said the dreaded words. You just can't say that to someone after you've been intimate. It's like a law. So I laughed about it for a while and didn't talk to him for about a month until we spoke last weekend (and don't any of you give me any grief about it either). And it happened again! For some stupid reason, I wasn't expecting it, but don't kid yourself, the "take care" comment came out! I was so stupefied that I didn't think fast enough to "take care" of the situation, but hear me now, the next time some dumb man tells me to "take care," I will boldly tell him, "Don't YOU tell Me to take care! YOU take care!"

And I know my mother says I'm picky (but for God's sake why shouldn't I be? If I'm going to spend the better part of my life with someone, he might as well be darn amazing). He better not have a last name like "Hefflefinker." He better not be shorter than I am...now there's an image. And he better not tell me to "take care."

Teachers of America Unite

And no, Texas has not become a teacher's union state over the holiday. I am referring to the fact that ALL of us who had to start back to school today were united in our severe depression over the past weekend. I'm completely serious...I was really depressed all day on Saturday. I was going to write a blog entry earlier than today, but couldn't fight my way out of the depression. And for those of you who aren't teachers who really want to challenge me and say "yea, but you get 3 months off in the summer and had 2 weeks for the Christmas break"...quit your bitchin' right about now because you would need that kind of time off if you did what we did every day.

I called Amanda yesterday, she was depressed as well, and we decided that we should grab a bite to eat and try to collect ourselves before the big day arrived. It was pathetic. Marisa came too and she took a picture of my pitiful face (her word, not mine, although I'm not arguing) as we left the restaurant. Unfortunately, I can't get the picture to upload to my computer, but whatever...I'll let you imagine.

BUT! It ended up being a really good day! I think I was even more of a wreck considering I had been out for an entire month and on my drive up to school, I had to remember exactly where my room was, but eventually, I found it. Thankfully, my boss let me work in my room for most of the day, which was great because I had no idea what happened in there when I was gone. By about 2:00, I was starting to get really tired and my side was aching...I don't know if that was the swollen spleen talking, but it didn't rupture today, so I'm good. I left around 2:30 and headed home where I passed out for quite a while...even still, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to sleep just fine tonight.

It was great to get back into the groove. And the thing about being a teacher (at least in my opinion) is that it's the kind of job where when you come back after a long break, the people you work with smile at you like you're a rock star that they're just seeing for the first time (and by people, I mean the little people)! I went down to the office while a class of kindergartner's was walking to lunch and do you know what happened?! My sweet little friend, Zyana, was heading the line and her face lit up when she saw me and of course, she gave me a hug (as she always does when she sees me...even if she gives me a hug on my way to get a fork from the cafeteria, she'll give me another one as I pass her leaving the cafeteria 4 1/2 seconds later) and then, the 18 other six year olds that trailed her waved "hello!" and wanted me to hug them back as well. That's the beauty of my job...no matter how I'm feeling when I'm at home and away from it all, I really do love getting back to it!

New Years (formerly known as the "overrated holiday")

New Year's Eve Day...all I really wanted to do was lull about all day in my jammies and continue reading my new favorite book, The Shadow of the Wind, but I had to drag myself out of my deliciously cozy bed to run to the store. I also wanted to try and get lucky and find a purse that perfectly matched my shoes (which didn't happen, but I drove myself nuts for a little while running around trying to make it happen). Then, I decided I'd treat myself to some new perfume, but when I went to the little shop that I always get it from, the packaging was different. Turns out, it was a different perfume altogether and I ended up smelling like an old lady for most of the afternoon. I dropped a ton of my groceries on the way up the stairs to my apartment and accidentally scared the crap out of myself about ten minutes into putting things away because I thought someone was coming into my place when the door started creaking open! I was sure that a creepy man was on the other side of the door with a gun ready to rape and kill me. That's when I realized that I had forgotten to actually close the door all the way shut after coming inside and the wind was slowly pushing it open. The price you pay to live alone sometimes! That's when I also realized that I should have screwed it all, listened to my first instinct and stayed in my bed for the better part of the day reading. When I finally got settled, put the groceries away, and was on the couch with my book and a yummy cup of hot hazelnut coffee all ready to pick up where I left off, I dropped my damn mug all over the blanket on my lap, which of course, ran onto the couch! After cleaning up the mess, I decided to curl up in my bed and continue falling in love with Julian Carax (as all of the other characters in the book have done). So here I am, perfectly content with my book, where I should have been four hours ago...

And all of a sudden I hear a muffled noise...it's kind of a moaning sound...I sat up and wondered, "What the hell is that?"

Sweet...Jesus...is someone REALLY having sex at 3:30 in the afternoon on New Year's Eve?! Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen...don't kid yourself...it's true! Apparently, I have new neighbors and my complex has thin walls. Maybe I should bring them a welcome basket full of condoms and pregnancy tests.

Good thing it was time for me to get ready for my evening...turned up my iPod on full blast, sang my heart out in the shower like there was no tomorrow and left there hoping the evening's plans would work out better than my day.

Here we go 2008! Just when you get used to one year, 365 days swing by and POOF! you've got to get used to a whole other digit. I normally say that New Years is a very overrated holiday and unless you have something specific to do, it's probably going to be a let down. Let it be known that while I still believe this to be true, there's one more very crucial detail to add to that explanation of the annual event. Quick run down of the night...

After a lovely appetizer, cocktail, and fun little "what to look forward to in 2008" game at Marisa's house, we headed out to Hibiscus for dinner. Got settled at the bar in the back of the restaurant where we ordered yummy martinis and actually snagged a couple of seats to sit and visit.

This is the part when I spill the second drink of the day. I hate the traditional martini glasses. They are ridiculous. I turned to pick mine up, knocked it all down the side of me...lovely side car martini (ten bucks too!) all down the side of my dress...I knew there was a good reason why I wore black.

Wiped myself off in the bathroom (I swear you can't take my anywhere nice), got settled at our table and we're ready to toast...except my drink was still all over my dress...

There we go...much better!

After a beautiful dinner, we tricked Marisa into thinking there was no more chocolate cake for dessert (because instead, the rest of us really wanted the butterfinger ice cream in an oreo pie crust with other yummy things on top that I can't remember right now)..."No chocolate cake?!"

And Anna reminded us that when we are having a conversation, there's usually about four other conversations happening in her head (one of her goals for the year is to find balance...love it)...

Amanda (looking much like Angelina Jolie, I might add), laughed so much that her make up started running down her face...

I enjoyed that dessert like it was the last one I'll ever have...
Since it was close to midnight and we were ready to jet from Hibiscus, I made a quick phone call to check on the stats of the bar down the street...

Sweet! No cover! Works out well for us since we just spent all our money on dinner and drinks!

Went down to The Old Monk to officially toast to a new year...somehow I wound up getting purposefully shoved twice and yelled at by a rather unhappy girl who was displeased with my existence for one reason or another (I'm still unsure of why, but have decided that this year I must focus on having more compassion, so that is what I have for her). This is what the girls' facial expressions looked like when they thought this creature was going to seriously start a fight with me...And my lovely ladies and I continued to giggled our happy asses back to Anna's where we passed out for the evening...

And today while driving back to my house, on this, the first day of the new year, I realized the most important thing about how one spends New Year's Eve...in the presence of friends (and in my case, life lines), laughing so hard we forgot what we were laughing about in the first place...

Good night, dear friends...may this be the year for all of us!