Wacky Wednesday

This hasn’t exactly been the most amazing day.

Last night I dreamed, for some reason, that my house flooded and my room filled up with sewage. It was disgusting, naturally. And quite the dream to wake up to at 3 am.

Then, I didn't get up until 7:30. This is a problem when you have to be at work at 8. So, I threw on wrinkled clothes and didn’t even get to wash my hair. It was pretty classy.

Finally, I made it to work at 5 after 8, only to find out that my friend had a dream too. A dream about me. And an affair I was having. With. John. McCain. Honestly. John. McCain. Of all people. How could my friend even dream this? How would these thoughts even pass into her mind? I mean, come on, I think I deserve a little more credit than that. She should know I would never have an affair with a republican! Anyway, I guess that he dropped out of the presidential race because of our little tryst. And, People Magazine offered me 50 million dollars for the story—which I gleefully accepted. After this story, I was snapped back into reality and realized that I was sitting here, in my office, smelling a little bit like B.O. and nowhere near 50 million dollars richer.

Then, my friend dropped in, surprisingly, to say hi! It was a great surprise as he is living nearly 5 hours away. I was super happy to see him and then he says that he has been in town for 5 days—at this point, I realize that he didn’t bother to call for FIVE DAYS! I then got in a big fight with him and told him to jump off the 3rd floor of the building. He declined. Sadly.

This afternoon I was having a conversation with one of my coworkers because he has seemed a little anti-social lately. He’s been on a Slim-Fast diet for the last few weeks and so I figured he was just hungry. We talked about it and he said that he wasn’t. So, I said, well, I think you could stand to get a little more social, you know, like you used to be….he said, “I think you could go die.” I think he was serious.

So, that’s sort of just how today’s been going. Hopefully the evening brings a little more light. I’m going to go for a run. Odds are I’ll break an ankle or get hit by a car.

Shopping!

This morning I went shopping. In my closet. I was wearing my sassy yellow and black and white dress to work. I decided I needed to switch up my normal black slides for something a little sassier. I pulled out shoe after shoe after shoe, realizing that when I wear the same pair virtually every day, I forget about the things I already have. And, dang it, I have some cute shoes. And too many of them. I believe, like many other women, in the power of a cute shoe. Whether I am feeling bloated or my hair won't do what I want it to, my feet are never too fat or too ugly to fit into the perfect shoe. I am sometimes just in too big of a hurry to think about them and go with the same shoe, day after day.

So, I am sitting there, thinking, “Self, you have good taste. Why don’t you wear these more often? How could you possibly forget about a shoe like this?”

Seriously, it was like going to the mall.

“I think I’ll take these!” -- “Oh, wait, they’re already MINE! Bwhahahahaha!”

So, today, my sassy yellow dress is paired with a sassy black kitten heel—a kitten heel who is so happy to be seeing the summer sun for the first time this year—a kitten heel who, up until today, was drowning in the depths of despair contemplating shoe suicide at the back of my closet from months of neglect.

Some may call this ridiculous—to have shoes you forget about—maybe you should have less shoes (I can hear my dad in the back of my mind)—but, I think this is just a gal’s way of planting little accidental surprises—finding shoes, my dear friends, is serendipitous.

I believe it’s pure bliss to find something you forgot about. To discover 20 bucks in the jacket you haven’t worn for a year, or your favorite lip gloss tucked discretely into an old bag, or, of course, to find that little black heel you didn’t even realize you’d been desperately missing…

Ugh.

First thing's first: I'm a brunette. And I'm loving it.

Secondly, I am dragging arse today. It was possibly the longest day of my work life, ever. It was virtually impossible to drag my lazy self out of bed this morning and all I wanted to do was sleep for 20 more minutes because I had stayed up too late reading New Moon (the 2nd of the Twilight books).

I learned a valuable lesson this weekend...if you party with people who have children, be prepared to wake up at 6 am. Now, I know this. I have lived this lesson a thousand times since my niece has been born, but this is the first time I have really actually felt like I got run over by a bus, thrown off an over-pass, and had my brain scraped through a cheese-grater. I feel like hell today and the only thing I can relate it back to is the staying up far too late, and drinking far too much on Saturday night, only to find out that people with children somehow become super human and go to bed at 2am, only to wake up four hours later completely rested and acting totally normal. It is beyond me.

I should have known better--if I had, I would have been to bed early last night. I would have put the book down , stopped thinking about Edward and Bella, and drifted into a peaceful sleep. I wouldn't have drank that last beer on Saturday, and I would have come home and went straight to bed for a nap on Sunday. What was I thinking? Oh, that's right, I'm 23, and I can.

I think I am getting old. It is because of this that my body doesn't function as it used to. And, I know, I'm only 23. It must suck to get even older.

Twilight

I decided, this week, after a lot of consideration, that I was going to read the Twilight series. I had heard a ton about it and how it’s addictiveness is something comparable to the likes of Harry Potter. I can tell you, this is true.

For the last two days I have done nothing but read this book and work. At lunch, before work, and in all the hours after work before I go to bed, I was reading. You see, it’s one of those books that you absolutely cannot read with a critical eye—it’s fun, just have fun with it. Last night, I finished it and started the second. They are large books—5 to 600 pages, but they read quite quickly, especially if you devote your life and all your free time to getting through them (except for the two hours this week that you reserved for the latest episodes of Project Runway and Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List)…

Anyway, I can see why people are crazy over it—especially the teenage audience it was intended for. I wouldn’t be surprised if dentists were getting millions of calls from teens asking for Dracula like teeth. One of my coworkers asked me if I was going to do that--the teeth thing. I told him I had thought about it, but I didn’t want to go through with it unless I was able to fill them with venom. His reply, “Oh, you have venom.” I think he was trying to offend me. If I had venom, he’d be the first to go. *Joking—but seriously*

Last night I dreamed I was in love with a vampire. It was odd. I think he bit me.

And, back to yesterday’s conversation about the hair—I think dark brown would be better for this vampiresque thing I am going through right now…

Odds are this stage will only last through the series, and the fourth book is coming out early next month, so maybe I will hold off on the darkest brown…

Plus, I am heeding Porter’s threat via Lauren very seriously—I don’t want to be sleeping on the streets during my visit to New York…the vampires will get you out there…on the other hand…the vampires will get you out there. And, if the NYC vampires are as hot as the picture of Edward Cullen that I have in my head, I’ll take my chances. Granted, Edward Cullen is only 17—I’d like my vampire to be legal, at least.

HELP ME!

Alright folks. It's time for a change. I know, you've heard it all before, but this time it's different. I'm not talking about giving up booze or boys--because we all know how poorly that worked out for me. So, here's the thing. I'm bored with my hair, and I need your help. See picture:

So, now I am trying to decide where to go from here. Nothing really scares me when it comes to my hair--except for that time that I accidentally died it midnight black. Everything else is fair game. So, should i go back to slightly dark? Or real dark:Back to red:
Or really blonde again? This is a survey, people. I expect your comments on this very serious, and lifechanging topic. Choose wisely.

*The Jamie Show will be back to normal posting tomorrow*

I think he actually exists...

People call me picky. I’m too apt to find flaws, they say. I don’t put myself out there enough. I date the wrong guys. I date the right guys and refuse to keep them. I disagree.

I’ve dated and dated and dated. I’ve put myself out there. I stalked the random video store guy into giving me his number in an extremely creepy fashion. But, one thing that remains the same—me, deciding he isn’t right, and moving on.

There’s always something. For some people it may not be a deal breaker. For me, it is. One might not give me enough space to be my own person, I feel stifled. I don’t want to make my life’s decisions around what he thinks or feels—yes, I’m selfish. I’m 23 and selfish and I don’t apologize for that. Another two might be perfect on paper, but the spark is just not there. They both should have been perfect—they had the same dreams, the same itch to travel, nice families, good looking guys—it should have worked with at least one of them. Not so much. Another one might be like talking to a rock, even though he is terribly cute. Another is perfect in the fact that he is rarely around—which was only screwed up by his disappearance...his taking himself out of my life without my permission or my knowledge. I might have stuck that one out a little longer. And, another one, well, he might just be too nice. I feel like if I can’t be honest in telling him that last Friday I got off work at 1 in the afternoon, started drinking with a friend at 2, and drank all night long because I am afraid of his judgment…well, where’s the honesty there? I don’t want to hide the person I am. I don’t want to hide the occasional afternoon of binge drinking. You get the picture.

I miss the spark. I know it exists. I know I have felt it before—and I have felt it deeply. That emotion that is unexplainable, and makes you believe that you cannot spend a day without this person. That every free second you want to either be with him or be on the phone with him. The one that makes you appear so stupidly in love that strangers get jealous. I know that feeling (I just knew it with the wrong guy). And I’m not going to settle for less. But, is it possible that I've lost it? The ability to let someone spark? To spark with someone? What if it's gone, completely...

Call me picky if you must, but I don’t think it should be so hard. Yes, it gets old. Being alone—being the single girl at the outings. Watching your friends live their relationships—the good and the bad. Knowing that someone is going to be there when you don’t want to drive home, or go to the store for you when you’re sick—I do miss that. It would be nice to have someone around no matter what—if I picked up the phone, he’d be there. But I don’t want that with the wrong person. It shouldn’t be that hard to find the person you enjoy just as much one on one as you do in a group of friends; that person who makes you laugh all the time; the one who you can be just as happy with reading a book on the couch, or out at the bar. The guy who knows your feet get hot, and buys you a Heath Bar on his way home from work (who needs flowers? Give me chocolate!), the one who knows you take your coffee black and your wine red, and that you have the weirdest opinion about cheese. I think I have found many of these things in several different guys, but all along, that spark never surfaces, and I am always able, if not eager, to let them go.

I keep holding out for one—not even necessarily “the one,” but just one who really seems to fit…and I think he actually exists…

Iowa Summers

I know I complain about living in Iowa a ton. No one is ever surprised to hear about me rambling on about how badly I want to get out of this place--to pack my bags and see more of the world. To satisfy the "itch" that keeps me wondering and wanting to move. I know. This is true...however, this weekend, I thought differently.

Friday was different. Friday I made myself think differently about the place I spend my days and the place I lay my head at night. I think I took this place for granted, up until Friday (and I am sure I will many more times in the future). After getting off work early I went home to hang out with my dear friend Sara and her BF. We were just hanging out and decided to go for a drive to the lake. We packed a cooler of beer and headed out. Windows down, and the breeze blowing through our hair...

The lake was perfectly still--it would have been like a mirror, shining my reflection straight back at me as the pink-gold of the setting sun settled in on my face. The only thing reminding me that it was, in fact, water, was the occasional glimpse of a little minnow getting brave enough to leave the shelter the dock was providing him. It was perfect. I lay my head down, and look across the water, so high it was like I was simply laying on it--not on this old rickety dock.

On the way home we decided to take gravel--we turned up the Tim McGraw, rolled the windows down, and let the wind hit our faces and run it's fingers through our hair. It was, to me, a picture perfect moment, where there was nothing to see but the bright green of the rolling hills, the pastures, and the fields of corn readying themselves for the harvest. If you could have taken a snapshot of me at my happiest this year--even if only for a fleeting moment, that would have been it--me, in the back seat, watching the sun set over the lush green hills with a little country music ringing in my ears...I should probably give this place a little more credit!

Softball

Slow pitch softball started last night! Yay! A DOUBLE HEADER! I would just like to fill you all in on my post from my second softball game last year--so you get an idea of just how athletic I actually am. So, here's a trip down memory lane...

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Take Me out to the Ballgame

No, I mean, take me out OF the ball game....Last night was my second game of slow-pitch softball on a league I've joined. It was gorgeous outside yesterday, until about 7:00--our game was at 7:15. I got there at about a quarter to 7 so that i could stretch, jog a bit, and get ready to play. By game time, it had gotten windy, cold, the sky turned into these nasty looking black clouds, and was starting to rain just a bit. We were up 6-3 or something close to that in the 3rd inning, and it was my second time up to bat. I was thrown a bunch of balls, and eventually was walked to first base. Pretty uneventful, right? That's what I thought too...Then, Ali gets up to bat. We've got two outs, and Eric, my first base coach says "You're running on anything." Okay, cool, I can do that.

So, Ali hits the ball, and I tear off running for second base. Steps one, two, and three are fine, but on step four, I am certain my life is going to end. Imagine taking both hands, sticking them into your thigh, and then pulling the muscle in opposite directions--that's pretty much what this felt like. My right leg hurt so bad that it was all I could do to walk back to the dug-out (we had an extra girl playing last night so I was rotating innings--I was sitting out), and got to the bench where I held my breath and rocked back and forth for several minutes occasionally gasping for breath, before the pain subsided a little.

Finally, innings are switching up, my team comes back, someone gets me some ice, but it's pretty apparent that I am going to be sitting out for the rest of the game.Then, it gets better. It is my turn up to bat again, and if I don't bat they get an automatic out. So the idea is that I go, bat, get on base, and then we put in someone else to run for me. Uh huh, this is going to work really well--I'm thinking I'll just hit one out of the park, because then I can gimp around the bases, and it will take at least 15 minutes for me to get home. If you know me at all, you know my idea here is ridiculous.

Anyway, I hobble out there, strike out, and hobble back into the dug out, bruised and humiliated...The drive home was fine. As long as I drove cautiously and used only my heel to move my foot from pedal to pedal, I was fine. Any emergent stops, though, that required lifting my leg, were pretty much excruciating. And, to make things even better, it's 4 flights up stairs to make my way to my bed. I'd've sooner eaten nails than make that trek again. After a night of ice packs and laying around, Ibuprofen, and sleep, I've woken up feeling sore, but much, much better.
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I am proud to let you know that last night, no serious injuries occurred! I only struck out once two whole games. We blew the first team out of the park, and the second team beat us by one run. All in all, it was a good night--and the rain held off until two minutes after our game had ended!

Here's to getting off my lazy arse and doing something this summer!

Me at 23

So, I recently started a project at work—an introduction letter. A letter about me and my experiences to tell my “clients” about my life and my experiences. Obviously I am writing with a different perspective than I would if I were writing to my friends—or someone who could be my friend—or someone who knew nothing about me, but it was completely unrelated to my job…

Then I got to thinking about Sara Jane’s Borrowing Blogging Brilliance—a long survey about herself. I stole it and tried to fill it out for me, but I never got it done…

Which leads me to this—my letter. My letter about me.

I am 23. I am constantly searching for complacency. I am a wonderer, a wanderer, a writer and a reader. I don’t know that I will ever be satisfied—and in a way, I am totally okay with it. This itch to know and do—to move however ungraceful I may be, it’s what keeps me going. Granted, I may complain about it a lot, but I wouldn’t change this “itch” for anything.

I appreciate my family more now than I ever have in life. They are fun to be around, and I have fully recognized that. Of course, they drive me nuts sometimes, and the good ole’ guilt trip from dad for not making it to his place on the weekend is still often in place, but really, they’re pretty cool people. My niece is pretty spectacular, too. It’s weird to think that a year and a half ago, she just wasn’t here…I think one of the coolest transititons I have experienced in my family was when my sister became one of my very best friends. I am also very grateful for the rest of my friends—they are some of the greatest people I have ever known.

I think traveling in college changed my worldview. Living in London was amazing, but visiting the slums in Bangkok was definitely an eye opening experience. I’ve been to something like 10 or 12 countries, and am no longer afraid of what else is out there. This has also left me with an unbelievable urge to go and see more.

I’m pretty bad at letting people in. I think I am independent almost to a fault. I’ve made myself believe that I don’t need anyone, and so I am not very likely to let them even try…This also explains my single-hood and inability to let anything go past a 6th date.

I am quite liberal. Let the gays get married, I say. And keep your hands off my biology. You get the picture. Go Hillary! We'll see you in 2012, girl! Suck it, conservatives.

I want to go to graduate school so badly I can taste it. My problem lies in what to study.

I have an extreme fear of disappointing people. Thus, I am one of the most loyal friends you’ll ever have. I once passed up a free trip to Mexico so I wouldn’t let my partner down in representing Kazakhstan in a Model UN competition.

I am terribly sarcastic. Sometimes I offend people. I’m really only trying to have fun. Honest.

My best friend from my childhood is still my best friend in adulthood. She’s in NYC and we chat basically daily. She challenges me. She doesn’t let me see my world through rose-colored glasses. She’s always there for me—she always has been and always will be. Even though sometimes we have gone for months at a time without speaking—once we pick back up, it’s just like nothing ever changed. I can't wait to visit her in August!

I have a ridiculous obsession with my music. Especially Missy Higgins. She’s amazing. You should probably check her out—especially all you girls who like depressing ballads—this music is for you.

I enjoy weird TV shows: Deadliest Catch, Black Gold, Kathy Griffin: My life on the D list, Ace of Cakes, Ice Road Truckers, etc. Mostly anything that isn’t on a network station.

Sex and the City changed my life.

I play on a softball league, and am not in the least athletic.

I love blogging. I often wish I could think of meaningful things to blog about, but usually just end up with random stories about my life. I think it’s a great tool to keep a journal as far as where I am on this day and read back through, but also to keep my friends updated. It’s a creative outlet—a place where I’m quite certain I can be myself and ignore your judgment—because if you don’t like it, stop reading!

That’s me. At 23. In a nutshell. I want a lot. I think a lot. I have loved a lot. I have lost a lot. I wonder a lot. I have plans to do a lot. I have a lot to be thankful for. And day to day, I try to live all of this with grace...

Movie Night

I have to apologize for the recent hiatus in my blogging! I just got back from girl-cation which turned out to be an amazing time at the lake—boating, chatting, drinking, eating, tubing—it was awesome!

And exhausting. Which is why my roommate and I decided that last night would be a perfect movie night. We needed a little time to catch up on our relaxation, so we left work at a decent time, went home and immediately changed into our scrubby clothes. The plan was to get a movie and go to the grocery store to get something for dinner.

We’re wandering the movie store trying to decide what to find and eventually go with Stop-Loss and 27 Dresses. I approach the counter, and give this good looking movie store guy my account number, and we are chatting a little bit—he asks about our weekend, etc. We leave.

On the way to the car, S and I are about dying over the absolute cute-ness that movie store guy is. I am dying about the fact that movie store guy is totally cute and I am totally nasty in my scrubby clothes, hair up, sweaty look. I decide that she MUST call the movie store and get movie store guy’s number…

The DVD cases don’t have the freaking phone number on them—what kind of customer service is THAT? So, we call B.

“B—it’s an emergency…well, not really an actual emergency, but in my world, there is some serious shit happening. I really need the phone number to the movie store.”

“Okay, why?”

“Because the guy behind the counter is totally a hottie and I want to date him. I’m making S call him back!”

“Let me look it up online…”

Done.

I give S the number, and it’s freaking BUSY! She tries and tries and tries. All the while, I am trying to convince myself that this is what single 23 year old gals are supposed to be doing. It's not creepy at all, I think--totally normal...or totally screwed up, either way. Anyway, I tell S if she can't get through I am driving her butt back there and she is going in to do this in person!

Surprisingly, she agrees.

We can’t get through on the line, so I head back in the other direction. I park at the business next door because I am too flipping embarrassed to park out front, and we get S pumped up to go back in! I, of course, ask her to tell him that if this is totally not normal, or he's not okay with this, or if he's married, to please not judge because I would really like to rent movies there again.

And, she goes in— although I basically have to scream at her and literally kick her out of the car and threaten to end our friendship--I mean, with only minor hesitation.

Moments pass…

I’m about dying inside…

I call my sister…

All of the sudden, movie store guy, followed by S, are walking over to the furthest window, and he waves, and slaps a sheet of paper with his name and phone number on it to the window…

Really dying now.

I have to go in.

So, I do.

And we chat for a few more minutes.

We leave. I am still dying. Still in nasty clothes. But I have his number. And he has mine.

“He probably won’t call,” I think—even so, that was fun!

Fast forward: 10:47 last night—he’s leaving work…my phone rings…

He says, "I checked, and you don't have any late fees..."

(To Be Continued…)

I survived!

Well. My parents didn’t get remarried at the lake this weekend—which was one of my concerns going into this trip. I thought, “Self, what if this is a big set-up and they are going to ambush you all with a shotgun wedding before your new little sister is born?”

Rest assured, that didn’t happen. And my mom’s not pregnant. At least not as far as I know. I felt like I should just throw that out there. They both did, however, get incredibly drunk on red wine and scotch. Thankfully, their rooms were on a floor separate from everyone else’s (peculiar? I think so), so whatever went down with them stays on that floor and no one has to be the wiser—thank the sweet lord in heaven.

After a really long car ride we finally made it. My brother in law made the fatal error of missing our turn, and before we knew it, we were 40 miles from St. Louis--completely out of our way. We took windy creepy country roads and waited for creepy men with chainsaws to jump out of the bushes and spread our limbs over several different states and hamburger buns. We did, however, get to see a dog on the roof, and I don't know where you hang out, but I have never seen that before!

The highlights of the weekend would probably have to include this freaking amazing house. It is a 6 bedroom, 8 bathroom mammoth, with a salt water pool, firepit, hot tub, and lakefront property—oh, did I mention it’s actually on an island with 6 other houses? Yeah, it was sweet. My room now has a special little nook in my heart—that’s how much I loved it. It was complete with a gigantic bathroom, huge walk-in closet, sitting room, and bedroom that sat 4 stairs above the rest of my kingdom. Also, once you shut both doors, the rest of the house was no longer a concern. You could hear nothing. Flip those blackout blinds, and life was good.

One afternoon, we were all in the pool looking down at the lake when this boat full of tubers came by. We yelled down at them to see if we could mooch a ride—and get this, they obliged! So, my little sister, friend Allison and I ran down to the water, flailed out to the tube, flailed on to the tube, and flailed the entire time we were on this awesome ride with complete strangers!

Additionally, my brother in law, and his friend John both shared a wet Speedo. It was the creepiest thing I have ever seen. In fact, both of them ended up running around naked on the deck at some point in the weekend. It was, by far, the most disturbing thing that has ever happened to me.

We spent three glorious days floating around in the pool and three balmy nights in the hot tub drinking fruity drinks, and eating fantastic food. It is, however, no wonder that everyone on this trip had to booze themselves into numbness for three straight days to overcome the awkwardness that the annual family vacation has become.

Here are pictures of Emerson and my little boyfriend Oliver! They're so cute!!!!!

The Big Apple

Big things happened yesterday people! Big things! The best of the big things--me, spending an obscene amount of money on a plane ticket. From here to NYC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am leaving in August to spend several fun filled days with my all time best friend in the city where she now lives!

I have never been to NYC but I am already convinced I will love it. I think NYC and I, we're kindred spirits--soulmates, just waiting for fate to bring us together. And now, the time has come... Plus, it will be great to see my bestie after a really long stretch of time without setting eyes on her cute little face! We've been besties since pom-poms. Seriously.

Then we went through middle school---we were both pretty awkward. We grew out of it eventually (at least I think we did).

And high school. Oh, for the love of high school. I hated high school. Lauren loved it. It was weird. Mostly we drove around at night, looking for something to do, smoking cigarettes we had pawned off of someone who was old enough to buy them. Typically, we'd end up with a car full of people and if we weren't en route to go drinkin' at a party, we were likely in a random cemetery or old abandoned building scaring the crap out of ourselves. We were country kids, through and through!

We had separate groups of friends for a while...but we always remained best friends. We vacationed together, had graduation parties together, basically lived together on the weekends--and during the week, really! She was the one that was there for me when our guy friends attacked me and put bbq sauce in my hair, and I was the one that I was there for her when Michael Salas broke her heart. (You know it's true, Lauren.)

We went to college 12 hours away from each other. Took a really great roadtrip to Texas over spring break our sophomore year which was complete with ridiculous camp sites, townie bars that thought we were old enough to drink, Kenny Chesney for 20 hours straight, Shirley singing karaoke to Britney Spears, learning to two step, scorpions, running out of gas on a lonesome Texas road...it's actually a miracle we lived through that trip. Otherwise we just waited for Christmas and summer breaks to get back in touch. We could go months without talking, but every single time we got back in touch it was exactly as it used to be. Just like nothing ever changed. (**This is a picture of us over Christmas break a couple of years ago, I think. I'm on the right, and Lauren is on the left! Another one of our good friends, Megan, is in the middle!**)

So, here's to the impending trip to NYC and reuniting two besties!

Also: expect a post or two from the lake this weekend. Awkward family vacation part deux commences in less than 24 hours. Yikes!!!!!!!