Life Lesson #73: If you are going to say stupid things, prepare to be mocked. Relentlessly.

Minions, I recently went back to college. This is my, um, hold on, let me think, fourth? go around at a degree. That's not the point here. The point is, kids these days are stupid. I don't mean they can't solve a differential equation (I still can't do that, even after spending every extra hour with my Calculus teacher that I could) or that they can't spell (which, I'm sure they can't given that they have always had spell check), what I'm talking about is common sense.

Now, I've met the people I graduated with, I've had slightly intellectual conversations with people a generation or two above me and I'm not claiming they are geniuses-far from it. However, the more I listen to these "youngsters" of today, I SWEAR I was never that stupid.

Maybe, just maybe, I have become so intelligent that I have surpassed America's average level of common sense. Sorry, I couldn't even type that with a straight face.

I honestly just don't get it. Kids-and by kids I mean people ranging 18-21 years old-are saying ridiculous things. For example:
Chemistry Professor: Now, I know the President has been fired, if you haven't heard about that than you should get on the Internet because it's everywhere, but it won't effect you-the student-at all.
18 Year Old Girl: Wait, like, the President of the University?
I seriously hope this girl is majoring in something that doesn't mean life or death, because if she's a nursing major, her patients are screwed.
Nurse: Wait, like, put my mouth on HIS? But he's like ancient and I'm like not even drunk...yet.

Back in my day-yes I know I sound like an old timer when really, I'm just peeking-people would look at idiots and say, "Think before you speak." What scares me is these modern day morons ARE thinking before they speak and in the small recesses of their minds, they think they are having intelligent thoughts or, at the very least, average thoughts that need to be shared with others! Baffling really.

If someone asks a question, first, think to yourself, do I know the answer? If no, than shut up. If yes, move on, is my answer right? Does it make sense? Can I coherently express this answer out loud? Can I speak in such a way that others will understand? Am I good looking enough that I don't even need to talk? If you REALLY think you have the answer, if your thought/argument is really worth sharing, if you can actually talk to others without them laughing at you or rolling their eyes or staring at your goods, than please, share. BUT be prepared, because even pretty people get mocked.

And that old adage, "There's no such thing as a stupid question"? Yeah, that was from a few generations ago, it no longer applies to today's youth. Yes, there is such a thing as a stupid question, so please, think at lease twice before you speak and when in doubt, don't speak at all. Remember, it's better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. Not following? Okay, it's better to be thought pretty and dumb than ugly and stupid. That should be plain enough for you.

Moron.

Life Lesson #55: Never, under any circumstances, go into your parents' bedroom.

Even if there is a trail of blood leading to your parents' bedroom and your mom is screaming, "Help! Save me!" Do NOT enter your parents' bedroom.
Even if there is a trail of cinnamon rolls and you hear Ryan Reynolds screaming, "I'm willing and ready!" Do NOT enter your parents' bedroom (although do your best to lure Ryan Reynolds out with those cinnamon rolls.).

We were never a family that climbed into our parents' bed on a Saturday or Sunday morning for tickle fights, pillow fights, a morning reading of the comics or late night movies. When there was a storm, our parents came to our bedrooms to make sure we were okay. My parents' bedroom was always a place that was off-limits without actually being off-limits.
When I was in just a youngin', an innocent little pig tailed girl in the third grade, the worst possible thing happened: I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of my parents'-pausing for a moment to puke-having sex. Even at that young age, I somehow had a vague idea of what was going on and rushed from my bed (my room was right next to their's) to the bathroom to puke. Seriously.

For some reason, probably because the Fates hate me, my parents hate me, I don't know but this pattern was repeated. Frequently. To the point that I was terrified to go to sleep at night. I woke at the tiniest sound, would quickly flick on a light so my parents would know I was awake and lay in my bed, my heart pounding out of my ribs. These, um, episodes, scarred me so badly that I have no slept through the night since third grade, at least when I've been under my parents' roof. It's been 15 years, I'm slightly tired.
Moving back to my parents' house, I wasn't overly concerned with it. They are, after all, in their 50s, I would be sleeping downstairs and Gus would be sleeping upstairs in my old room. Yes, this is the part of the story where disaster strikes. I went into my parents' room earlier this week to look for a book my mom had borrowed from me months ago. While looking for it on her nightstand, I glanced at my dad's nightstand to see what he was reading...and instead saw a bottle of KY Jelly. VOMIT. Than last night, while I was attempting to fall asleep, I heard them going at it. Fifteen years later and it still gives me the willies and makes me puke in my mouth.

As horrific as the whole 15 year experience has been, I definitely don't want my son going through anything remotely close to it. Yes, he's not even 2 yet but I'm not taking any risks, which is why Gus will now be sleeping in my room with me, downstairs. Of course, my parents are curious as to the move so tonight, in approximately 30 minutes, we will be discussing it. I can only imagine how glorious that conversation will be:

Me: You two are having too loud of sex. You have been since I was in the third grade. It scarred me so bad that I have been in therapy since 4th grade and I don't want to take any risks with my son so his room is now downstairs. Dessert anyone?

Dear God, my family is royally f*ed up.

Life Lesson #40: Why fly when getting there is half the fun.

Well minions, you will never believe it but Cruella caved and let Gus and I go visit Buttercup! Yes, LET US go, wow, apparently I'm back in middle school. *sigh* Regardless, WE GOT TO GO! It was a complete blast. Prepare to be amazed...in degrees....I wouldn't want you to die of shock and awe so I will retell our awesome tale in sections.

First off, have you ever driven a great distance with a toddler? (By great distance, I mean over an hour.) No?  Well, it's really something you should avoid at all costs. Seriously. I knew it was going to be rough on Gus but I figured we'd break up the ELEVEN HOUR drive by driving 8 hours on Monday, spend the night at Pooper's, than drive the remaining three hours on Tuesday. I thought it was a fantastic idea and it was. It worked out perfectly. Gus was, in all seriousness, a complete angel on the drive to Pooper's. (Okay, I just googled images for angelic toddler boy and you know what came up? Anthony frickin' Hopkins from Silence of the Lambs. W.T.F. We will skip a picture and instead, use your imagination like people back in the 80's were forced to.)

When we got to Pooper's city, we went shopping right away because I figured it be nice for Gus to have some stimulation, get out of the car, I could walk and hopefully, regain feeling in my ass. Plus, Pooper and Schnookems had plans until about 7 so we had some time to kill as we had left at 5:30 in the morning. Don't ask. Anyway, we got to the mall and Gus was over-whelmed by the amount of people.

I didn't get much shopping down though I did pick up some sweet threads (yes, I think I am a late 90's sitcom) for Gus from H&M. My boy is going to be stylin'. Basically a Kingston Rossdale but with curly caramel locks. But I digress.

After two hours, Gus decided he was done shopping. Schnookems and Pooper were still at the lake so what could a girl do? I went to see Melman and Bear. :)

Ever since Bear bailed on me for Buttercup's wedding, we haven't really been talking, wait, let's re-write, we haven't talked at all. However, I talk to Melman on a regular basis and I told him I would be in town so we agreed to get together (I had to drop off a movie for him anyway) and he could finally meet Gus.

Apparently, Melman felt no need to let Bear in on the fact that I would be in town, which I found interesting given the fact that they are roommates and Gus and I would be stopping over at their place. *Food for thought* (Re-cap: Schnookems believes Melman to be in love with me.) We got there and these two 25 year old men were playing Halo. WOW. Gus and I played with his Cars cars until he warmed up to the guys, and they put down their own toys.

THEY WERE GREAT WITH GUS. :) I was so happy to see two of my guy friends interacting with my son. Bear got him giggling; Melman put on Pixar shorts for him than Cars because he knows Gus loves that movie. It seriously warmed my heart. I don't know why but seeing Bear and Mel with Gus, well, each time he smiled at one of them, I fell a little bit more in love with each of them.

We spent about an hour with the boys before heading over to Pooper's. It was wonderful seeing the girls again. Schnookems was able to see Gus and I back in June, albeit briefly, but Pooper hadn't seen him since he was a month old. It was great. (Warning: Everything about this trip was great so be prepared to read that sentence a lot) Pooper cooked fantastic shrimp tacos-Gus had mac and cheese from Noodles & Company. Yum. Unfortunately, we didn't get a lot of time to talk as Gus had to go to sleep but wouldn't unless I was lying with him and it took forever as he was super hyper due to the long ass drive and being over-tired. I fell asleep immediately.

That was the last I saw of Schnookems but I got a chance to chat with Pooper in the morning. Once again she cooked for us and Gus got to spend more time with her. I'm starting to think he's over-coming his shy phase....maybe...probably not...

We took off before lunch, poor Gus, not knowing that he still had to drive 3 hours. I felt bad but I just focused on one thing---I was about to spend nearly a whole week with Buttercup! With two and a half states between my mother and me. :)

Life Lesson #31: A house is not a home.

I miss my home. Bad. Like really super duper bad. Like Lindsey Lohan misses insanity or her virginity or her cocaine. When I lived alond, albeit in a studio apartment that resembled more of a dorm room than anything else, I was lonely but still loved my alone time. When I moved into my one bedroom apartment, I was still lonely but was anxiously awaiting the arrival of Gus so really loved my alone time because I knew it wasn't going to be long before my alone time was forever gone. When I moved into my two bedroom apartment, I felt as if Gus and I were finally home. We each had our own bedroom, everything had it's own place, I decorated as much as my landlord would allow, I hung pictures, I got to know my neighbors. It was great.

I didn't think I would miss my little apartment this much. Since I graduate high school, I have lived in a dorm suite (with Schookems and Pooper), an apartment (with Ette), a house in New York, a house in Texas, and the three above mentioned apartments. I've gotten around. I really didn't think it'd be that big of a deal but what I didn't factor in was that this last place was my first real grown-up home, it was where my son took his first steps, it was where he first called me Mama, where he locked himself in the bathroom and nearly gave me a heart attack, where I threw my best friend her bachelorette party. That apartment held lots of memories and almost all of them good. I didn't have any drunken messes there, I didn't have any embarassing moments, I didn't watch my grandfather die than hold my grandmother while she cried when he did. That apartment was chalk full of happy memories and only happy memories. It's no wonder I miss it.

Life Lesson #51: You can't always get what you want...

...but if you try sometimes, you just might find, my mother's a bitch.

I received some wonderful news today: Buttercup misses me horribly, to the point that she can barely get herself out of bed. She is, in fact, just lying in her bathrobe, eating ice cream straight out of the container, her hair greased with natural oils due to the fact that she hasn't showered in days, crying while she sings "All by myself, don't want to be, all by myself anymore..."

While I usually don't take such perverse pleasure in others pain, especially those I love dearly, it was nice to know that our long-distance relationship wasn't just one sided. We decided that we needed to see each other, and soon, but of course I have no money to get to her and she doesn't have the time to travel the distance. My darling Buttercup and her Wesley graciously offered to help get Gus and me to them. I jumped/leaped/skipped/Samba'd at the chance to visit.

I was even more thrilled because it meant that I could stopped on the way and spend some time with Schnookems, Pooper and Ette. Plus, if I'm lucky, I may even get a chance to introduce Gus to Bear and Melman. Than I would continue on my way to see Buttercup and Wesley, spend about 4 days with them, head back and spend a night with my brother and Lucy than go home. The next day Gus would start daycare than a week later my school would start. I would have an entire week to get all of my moving/unpacking done while Gus adjusted to daycare. Perfect plan, right? I mean, what could be wrong with it?

Queue My Mother, Mrs. Fun Hater herself. After 25+ years I have learned a thing or two so I, of course, went to my father first with my glorious idea. He was all for it, thought it was wonderful and it couldn't have been better timing. Than I dropped the bomb on the She-Devil. Before I could even finish the sentence she was stabbing it to death, saying it would put too much wear and tear on the car (I drive a car they own). First, she was against the idea because it would cost too much money than I told her about Wesley and Buttercup's offer at which point she told me no because of the car thing.

What sucks is that she has this hold over me because of the car plus I live with them. She wants me to stay here because the house is a mess full of my crap that hasn't been put away. (Here's why: Gus is moving into my old room, I'm moving into my parents' room and my parents' are moving into my brother's old room. Don't ask why, it's stupid and complicated.) I have been itching to redecorate but my parents' haven't moved ANY of their shit so I can't do anything. She wants me to stay to help them move their stuff? Than move my stuff and Gus's stuff. I don't see why they can't move their own things than, why Gus is in daycare during the day, I get everything done, I'll have a whole week. It's really ridiculous, to put it nicely and G-Rated.

I JUST WANT TO SEE MY FRIENDS! I want to get away! I want to have adult conversations! I want to get out of this state! Away from my parents!

Ugh. If I were 6 I would throw a fit.
If I were 13 I would slam my door and blast Alanis Morrisette.
If I were 18 I would pierce something and get wasted.
But I'm 25...so I will blog about it, bitch to my friends and pray my father can convince her to not suck at life.

Life Lesson #47: Never trust a person with a mullet, unless his name is AC Slater.

Everyone has seen someone with a mullet. Business in the front, party in the back, disgusting all around. Most people associate Billy Ray Cyrus with the mullet:

(Yes, children, Miley's dad used to be this un-cool)

I, however, associate the one and only Albert Clifford Slater with the horrid hair-do:

AC was a good guy, sweet boyfriend despite his douche bag girlfriend, good athlete and a lover of animals, especially lizards. His mullet wasn't all that awful, just a bunch of curly locks that got a little out of control and you couldn't really blame him for his hair-do since he had a stylist who purposely did that to him on a daily basis. Despite his dimples and sweetness, the hair-do didn't do the man justice and was still hard to swallow (that's what she said) yet he is the ONLY person in the history of mullets to not look absolutely ridiculous, God awful, trailer trash disgusting when wearing it.
Whenever you see someone with a mullet, you 1) are probably in a Wal-Mart and 2) shudder in self-disgust. You also find yourself mesmerize by the fact that this person was brave enough to wear this monstrosity out of the house, into the public, at the risk of stoning and humiliation. You may (if you are me or Cocoa Von Hoffman) follow them discreetly with your cell phone camera and attempt to take a picture of them to send to your friends for a chuckle.
Today, I encountered a mullet face on, looked it right in it's FROSTED TIPPED bangs and thought, "Oh! This is where Joe Dirt went to die!"



I had to interview a daycare today for Gus. The lady who runs the home daycare seriously had a frosted tipped mullet. It wasn't just a regular mullet. It was shaved on the side, brunette with gold bangs and gold ends. It also had roughly a pound of hair gel in it to make it spiky in all the right places. I was very proud of myself for not immediately turning around and running out of there screaming. Instead, I sat there and interviewed her while she told me that she lives with a "roommate" named Kari (I have no problem with lesbians, just admit it, don't tell me you are 35 years old with a 16 year old son and live with another woman who's just your roommate.) She also told me that there is no meal plan for the kids, oftentimes the parents bring food for the kids at the beginning of each day, if I wanted Gus fed her food (and God knows what it would be), it'd be an extra three dollars a day. The tv is constantly on and even though some kids don't like it, she makes them sit down and watch it for 'quiet time'. When she started throwing a big, bouncy beach ball type basketball off of the two 2 yr old girls' heads "this is what we do for fun!", I got out of there.
No, Gus will not be going there.
Yes, I should have turned right around after spotting the mullet.
Go ahead, call me superficial, but I will never trust someone with a mullet....unless his name is AC Slater.

Life Lesson #13: Distance does not make the heart grow fonder-it just plain sucks and there's nothing good about it.

I hate being far away from people. Wait, let me re-phrase. I hate being far away from people that I ENJOY. It sucks. I once had a long distance relationship, I lived in Texas and he lived in Jersey. It lasted approximately 2 months long distance and every day sucked. Yes, I like my alone time but I like being with friends! There's a reason they are my friends, I enjoy their company and being around them! If I didn't, they'd be my relatives.

(yes, that is an actual picture of some of my relatives' feet.)

The point is distance sucks. There is no silver lining to distance. It does not make you appreciate the person or the relationship more, it just makes you bitter because you aren't surrounded by the people who get you the most, the ones you have the shared jokes with, the secrets, the way of speaking without actually speaking. The people who when you are with them, you are part of something special and when you are without them, people tend to think you are a completely different kind of "special".

I desperately miss my friends. I miss having conversations about world issues as opposed to the trivial on-goings of small-town life. No, I do not care about Irene's granddaughter's boyfriend's sister's kid. I want to talk about the debt ceiling and health care and the NFL lockout and MLB trades. I want to talk about how to make an Alex the Lion cake from scratch for Gus's birthday and what he should be for Halloween. I want to spend an afternoon rocking out to the Rent Soundtrack while shopping for clothes that I don't need and won't buy. I want to get dolled up and have a fancy dinner in a city, an actual city not a town, and put on heels and be hit on by guys who have showered within the past 12 hours and have a college degree. I want to stay in and do homemade mani-pedis while watching romantic comedies and eating calories that don't matter because I'm laughing so hard.

I want to reminisce about the old times and know that the future will be even better because I'll have my friends with me. I want to talk about my goals and have them tell me if they are foolish or not. I want to hear them say they believe in me, that everything will be okay because, well, because it just has to be. I want them to call me on my bullshit and whip me into shape. I. Want. My. Friends.

(Kim Anderson Photo)

Growing up you made friends easily, I don't care who you were, friends were easier to come by because you had more opportunities to make them-school, daycare, sports, neighborhoods, YMCA's, etc-and you weren't so jaded, you believed everyone wanted to be your friend and that everyone made a good friend. If you got in a fight with one, there was always someone else. Than the years went by and friends became harder to make, cliques became impenetrable and people weren't as trustworthy. Now, as an adult, when you make a friend, you cling to them, knowing how rare and precious they are.

I know how valuable my friends are, I know how great they are. I know they would do anything for me as I would do for them. I know no matter how far apart life may take us, we will remain friends (feel free to gag/puke here)  but I also know that we are at our best when we are together, that friendships are strongest when they are in the same city. No matter how great your intentions are, life happens and so does distancce and sometimes life is a bitch and that bitch can tear you away from your best friends.

In the meantime, I suppose I will just sit in self-pity, Skype as often as possible and play numerous games of catch with Gus until he tires of me. Everyone needs friends, though, I mean, even House has Wilson.

Life Lesson #41: Once you move out of your parents' house, DO NOT MOVE BACK

Obviously, dear stalkers, I have been absent from my blog for a moon or two. My sincere apologies but I have been in the process of moving from one town to another. It has been pure Hell. I hate moving. Despise it with every fiber of my being. There is NOTHING fun about moving. You have to box up your stuff, decided what to keep and what to throw, clean EVERYTHING, haul it to a truck, unpack it at your new place which you probably have had to clean, and rearrange everything, usually all in 95+ heat or rain or a blizzard. Add in a toddler and a crazy mother and there is not amount of Prozac that can get you through the weekend.
The reason I have moved is I am going back to school in order to get a degree in English Education. I am unable to do this, going to school full-time, with a toddler and work 40+ hrs a week. I have quit my job and moved back in with my parents so that I can get my college degree and get a real adult job. After months of debating, numerous discussions with friends and plenty of positive/negative lists, I decided to bit the bullet, swallow my pride and move back in with the rents. "Hi, my name is Ms. Humble, I am unemployed and I live with my parents."

It will take me 2, 2.5 years at the most to finish up. My thinking was this was the best thing for not only  myself but definitely for my child. This way, after I have my degree, I will be financially free of the government (as in welfare, not in loans), my parents won't have ANY control over me/my finances and I can FINALLY get out of this Godforsaken State.
That all being said, I have been living on and off with my parents for the past two weeks, slowly moving my crap here and I NEED TO GET OUT. To say they are driving me insane would be a vast understatement. My mother is being worse than normal, somethin I didn't even think was possible. She, of course, thinks she is doing loads better. I know this because she tells me frequently how well she is behaving. She also has an annoying way of telling me how to parent, of saying things to Gus as a way of not saying things to me (I can't believe your mom hasn't picked up your room!"), my dad thinks Gus can pretty much have whatever he wants as long as he says please and whenever I tell Gus no, they both swoop in to tell him yes! And yes, I have talked to both of them, individually AND together, to explain that they cannot interfer with my parenting. They say they understand but they don't. I feel as if I am repeatedly ramming my head into a wall. I guess my definition of insanity is talking to my parents and expecting their behavior to change.

*sigh* It's already a struggle. I am hoping beyond hope (no, I don't know what that means, I guess just hoping super bad? But can you hope just a little bit? Are there different levels of hoping? Wow, way too much time out in the sun) that things will get better once I go back to school and I'm not stuck in the house all day. Plus, Gus hasn't been in daycare the entire month of July and is going crazy and driving me crazy. He needs other kids to intereact with and since he doesn't have any, he is terrorizing my parents' Corgis and has become an Uber Mama's Boy. I love him to death but everyone needs some alone time.
Despite helping my mom around the house by cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, etc. she isn't all too appreciative. Her view is it's what I should be doing, afterall she did it for me for how many years plus I should be helping out around the house. I agree, I'm a big girl, I should  be pulling my weight but that doesn't mean that you can't chip in a Thank You every now and than or explain to me in a nice way that you want certain shirts hung instead of dried rather than yelling or talking down to me. I'm fed up with her, can you tell?!
Possibly the worst part is I miss my friends :( Princess Buttercup is off being Susie Homemaker, Cocoa Von Hoffman is baking a bun back in the town I left, Schnookems and Pooper are even further away now as is Ette. Yes, you should take a good 15-20 minute break right now to pity me. I will wait. Did you maybe light a candle, too? Pray for me? Send me love and light? Hey, I'll take whatever I can get. I'm hoping that I'll be able to visit everyone more now that I'm not working, especially over the Holidays but I'll probably end up taking some part-time job because, ya know, money's important and shit. Stupid stupid stupid.
I suppose I should quit writing and get back to reality. Bummer. Reality sucks. I wish my life were a musical...

Life Lesson #69: Thou shalt not lust after a married man (or woman). It cannot end well.

Haha, 69.

Who doesn't love Billy Madison? If you don't, you are just plan un-American. And not funny. And probably extremely lame. Loser.

Anyway, back to the lesson. I'm sure at one point or another, we have all "lusted" after a married person. Lusted is yet another gross word, it's right up there with leered. Let's rethink and rewrite. We have all looked at a married person, talked with them, and/or gotten to know them and felt extremely attracted to them. Before you shake your head in disgust, let me show you something:

Married.

Married.

Married.

Married.

 If you didn't drool over ANY of those photos, than maybe you're gay (not there's anything wrong with that!) or you have really weird taste in men. Either way, I'm SURE you have at least looked at a married man/woman sometime, somewhere and lot, "Damn, I'd like to be the star on his Christmas tree!"

Now, my dear Stalkers, it is time to confess some ugly. I, your hero, your idol, have been attracted to more than one married man in my day, and not just celebrities. Yes, I know, I too feel ashamed. Don't worry, I'm still awesome and it's not like I ever did anything about it but it still makes me feel, well, like a home-wrecker.

Seriously, how great were Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston? I am not a Brangelina fan. And I seriously not a fan of combining names to make a couple name. Gag me.

Have you ever met a guy and thought, wow, you're kind of well, perfect? You're totally infatuated, you gaze into the future seeing a wedding that is beautiful and your nice little daydream is shattered by five little words, "Have you met my wife?" That bitch. How dare she steal your man before you ever got the chance to meet him? Of course, she's beautiful, funny, perky (including her breasts) and is charming in every way. What a whore.

I could never knowingly sleep with a married man, never have an affair, never be "the other woman". I could never do that, not even if it was with one of the above mentioned dream boats. I couldn't be "the nanny" that slept with Jude Law or the Perkin's waitress of Tiger Woods's pick. Trust me, I know from experience. I had a guy friend, I was attracted to him long before he got hitched, than he got hitched and the jackass wanted to sleep with me! For a millisecond I thought I could go through with it but I literally got sick to my stomach. I didn't know his wife, knew nothing about her, but I couldn't do it, I couldn't do that to her, I couldn't live with myself. I am so happy I didn't do anything because the next day I found out that she was pregnant with their first kid, six months along-he had conveniently left that part out. Yeah, we haven't talked since. He wasn't the guy I thought he was needless to say.

Sometimes the 'perfect guy' has already found his 'perfect girl'. I always think of Alanis Morrisette's lyrics from "Ironic", It's meeting the man of my dreams than meeting his beautiful wife/Isn't it ironic? No Alanis, it's actually not ironic, it's more of a bitch, a bite in the ass, a punch right in the baby maker. I have to remind myself of Robin Williams's line from "Good Will Hunting":

You're not perfect, sport, and let me save you the suspense: this girl you've met, she's not perfect either. But the question is whether or not you're perfect for each other.

And there you have it, Minions. The married guy, he may be perfect but he isn't perfect for me, he's perfect for his wife, at least for the time being and that's why he's not with me. Somewhere there's someone who's perfect for me, I know because that's why Mark Salling is still single. He's simply waiting for me to find him or for GLEE to travel to where I am. It's okay, Mark, I'll wait for you...unless Joe Mauer finds me first. Than you'll be replaced.

Life Lesson #26: You can't die from boredom...but you can be driven to insanity by it.

I remember when I was just a wee little one (to be read with a Scottish accent), I would complain to my mother about being bored. Of course, my mother had neither sympathy nor empathy for me, told me to go find something to do and that I wouldn't die from boredom. Psh, she was no help.

As I've grown older, I have learned that boredom isn't just for the children. Side note: did you know a synonym for boredom is ennui? I learned that while reading trashy historical romance novels. I always thought ennui sounded like some porno word or something to do with erectile defection. Who knew? Anyway, boredom effects just as many adults as it does children and, in my opinion, effects them worse. Children, for instance, have the benefit of young minds which are easily led astray, a juvenile form of ADD. They can distract themselves with coloring books, imaginary friends, make believe, swing sets, and all sorts of other things. Adults, unfortunately, are usually bored due to uncontrollable circumstances, circumstances that can't be easily changed.

I am always bored at work. I never have enough to do and when I am given a task, it doesn't take long to complete and hardly ever involves using brain cells. It's infuriating and frustrating. How am I suppose to become unbored (no, that's not a word but I'm making it one) while sitting at a desk for 8.5 hours a day? Facebook, blogging, reading and playing Solitaire can only last so long and if I start playing make believe or talking to people who aren't there, I'll lose more than just my job. (Tomorrow's my last day, anyway, but that is a moot point where this post is concerned. Moot is another dignified word. Cue hat)
Okay, for the past 30 minutes I have tried uploading a picture of a person in a straight jacket, several different ones, and it won't let me. Odd. Does anyone else think that straight jackets look A LOT like Snuggies? Interesting...

I know other adults who get bored at parties or plays or meetings or, sadly enough, in bed. There's really nothing you can do but let your mind wander...which can be fun. Sometimes I like to make my grocery lists in my head or think about what I would do if I had the weekend free or how my wedding with Mark Salling will go...

 Hello, Gorgeous. Yes, I will marry you and I will never have ennui in your bed and I promise you won't, either...

Now him I could daydream about all day...and night but I am assuming that I would get nothing else done. And it wouldn't really cure my boredom so much as make me a giant pile of drool. Additionally, I don't think a 25 yr old drawing hearts that say Mrs. Mark Salling all over her legal pad at work looks good. Cue straight jacket Snuggie.

There's always something to do, I suppose. Whether it be catching up on correspondence (that means writing people, you youngin's), paying bills, doing laundry, dusting, vacuuming, organizing, cooking...I'm sure there is always something that needs to be done but sometimes it's not plausible to do those things, like at work or the theater. Sometimes, you are just shit out of luck...which is why Smart Phones have been invented and why Angry Birds (and games like it) are so popular. They are not only addicting but are mobile, handy and, um, SO MUCH FUN. They may be "juvenile" but since every one's doing it, it's okay. I'm sure it's how LSD was viewed in the '60s. Don't worry, Smart Phone games aren't as detrimental (cue hat) to your health and are totally legal.

The point is, boredom never leaves you, maybe when you're old and your mind has gone so you don't know you're bored, but even than you'd still be bored just not aware of it. I guess boredom just can't be avoided, like my mother or pap smears, you just have suffer through it and hope it too will pass. And, if give the choice, I would take boredom over pap smears and pap smears over my mother. Just an FYI.

Life Lesson #9: Kindness goes a long ways

I don't know what it is but lately I have been accosted by kind people. Maybe in my old, decrepit age I have become too much of a cynic or maybe after working with idiots for so long, I've become bitter. Either way, I usually expect to deal with assholes of the first kind when it comes to the public. When I call around in an attempt to find a new daycare for Gus, I am not shocked when the response is, "No, we're full." CLICK I suppose I should be shocked and outraged, instead, I'm surprised when the response is, "I'm so sorry, we're full. Oh, I do hate to turn people away. I would be more than happy to put you on a list, you never know what may open up!" Sadly, I usually don't know how to respond to these strange people and usually mumble something back after a shocked silent pause.

When the rents and I stayed in a Country Inn & Suites in Wausau, WI for Buttercup's wedding, the people there were INCREDIBLY kind and went out of their way to make all the guests happy. The front desk man, Luke was his name, was so sweet and couldn't have been more than 19 years old. Even the maids were friendly and courteous! I was stunned.
Most recently, my car broke down (it's from 1996, I'm surprised it's lasted this long) so I had to have it towed. The tow truck guy was very friendly (though he needed a shower and I don't get why he had to wear sunglasses AND a baseball cap on a day that was cloudy. I'm assuming he was either hung-over or stoned, regardless he was very nice). The mechanics were friendly and when I requested a number for a cab to come pick me up, they had a courtesy vehicle to take me wherever I needed to go! The driver was nice, too, and even let me bring my coffee along.
Is most of America this nice? Have I become such a bitch that I just expect everyone else to be a bitch, too? Or did I just spend too much time dealing with people in bigger cities and come to expect rudeness? My God, does my bitchiness automatically make people bitchy with me? No, that can't be it, than it'd be my fault.
At my job (I'm a secretary), I do in all honesty, (have you ever heard someone say I'm going to be truthfully honest? Is there any other kind of honesty? Kind of redundant if you ask me.) try to be nice and polite with the public. With people I know, I'm my usual sarcastic, joking self, obviously just a treat. But when it comes to the public, I often find it hard to be happy with them when they are rude, obnoxious or, more often than, stupid.
I really don't know what it is about stupid people but they drive me nuts. It's not like I'm asking you what about differential equations or how to split an atom, I'm asking you simple questions and when I answer your simple questions in simple monosyllabic words, I expect you to understand. It really irritates me when I have to explain myself four or five different times. Really, you couldn't catch on the first three times I told you the three digit code? Or where to find the camp brochure as I walked you through it step-by-step? I have patience, I'm a mother of an almost 2 year old, I have PLENTY of patience, but I find it infuriating when people don't pay attention or are too stupid to catch on to, what I deem, common sense tasks.

Perhaps it's all this negativity that makes me expect rudeness from others or maybe it's the fact that, more often than not, I get rudeness from others. I don't know but I find that kindness from others is pleasant, surprising and makes me, well, joyous, in almost a Christmas-y way. I find myself wanting to be kind to others and want to spread this strange phenomenon, that strangers can be kind to strangers, to others.
I've heard of this thing, this "pass it forward" and maybe that's what's been going on or maybe it's just that these people are genuinely kind and want to be kind to others for no reason. Regardless, these strangers are making my days, my experiences much more pleasant and making me wonder...is the world actually filled with kindness? Is it becoming less cynical? Is it more Gilmore Girls than Law & Order: SVU?

If yes, sign me up although I reserve the right to remain skeptic. This isn't afer-all Stars Hallow or Mayberry, this is America, home of the brave, righteous, stubborn, always-right, pessimistic, suspicious and scornful. Meanwhile, I will cherish the few moments of random acts of kindness and try to pass them on.

Life Lesson #32: Just because people graduate high school doesn't mean they leave there...

I graduated back in '04 and as soon as my diploma was in my hands, I was done with that place. I have gone back there for my cousin's plays (twice) or to visit a favorite teacher (that was once) or to watch my dad officiate a basketball game (twice) but I really don't think those events are anything out of the ordinary.

I was never a person who looked longingly at my days in high school, wishing I could go back to those times. I don't cherish them above others. I certainly don't think they were the best days of my life. I have never thought "I would give anything to go back". Don't get me wrong, it's not like I hated high school. I have some great memories from high school and I have some horrific ones. Since I grew up in a smaller town, the friends I had in high school were pretty much the same friends I had in grade school and middle school. We were a close-knit group of girls (and guys) who swore we'd remain that way till the end of time. *sigh* Even Zack Attack didn't stay together forever.

The thing is, people change, at least, you HOPE people change. The sad fact of life is, not everyone does. Some people remain the same person they were in high school. They peak during those four years and that, my stalking friends, is really rather sad.

Maybe it's because they peaked in high school or maybe it's because when they went to college, they pretty  much just went to high school. Not following? The majority of kids I graduated high school with went to either College A or College B, once there, they just continued to hang out with the exact same group of friends, only branching out to include people who they competed against in high school sports, people who were exactly like them. So basically, it was high school all over again, just with more booze, more sex and no parents. It gave most of them no reason to grow up, no reason to change. And now, despite the passing of 7 years, they are still stuck in high school.

What brought all of this on? Well, I went to one of my dear friends', that is actually a sincere comment, bridal shower this past Saturday. I've known her since kindergarten and she's been a great friend all these years. Her out of her 5 bridesmaids, 4 of them are old friends of mine (the fifth is the groom's sister). All three of the four are still stuck in high school but put them all together and all of them have re-vertigo, a term I picked up from 'How I Met Your Mother'. It means they revert back to the age they were when they best got along...in this case, high school.

I'm at a bridal shower, I'm 25 years old, my son is with me, I'm surrounded by other adults and yet these girls chose to bring up past indiscretions or, jokingly, call me a slut or whore? Really? This isn't a bachelorette party, no one's drunk, and, wait, we're not teenagers or at a kegger. Grow the f up.

Maybe spend a weekend not being drunk off your ass? Maybe have a conversation about politics instead of pop culture? Maybe know what's going on in our country besides sports or celebrities? Can we have a serious conversation about health care or kids or taxes or housing or SOMETHING other than the fricking past or who's sleeping with whom? How about just once we don't gossip about the same group of people we've been gossiping about for the past 17 years!

Sadly, not every one grows up although people do grow apart. The friends you grow up with probably won't be the ones you grow old with. The girl who's with you when you first have you heart broken probably isn't going to be the first one you call when you get engaged. The one you play dolls with probably isn't going to be your first visitor in the Maternity Wing. The girls who know all of your secrets, the ones you take your first drink with, swear you'll be best friends forever with, they aren't going to be the ones who help you raise your children, the ones you call when your spouse is driving you nuts or when you just want to cry.

The people who get you through high school, yes, they are important and they should be loved and cherished...but sometimes they should be let go. High school, it's come and gone, sometimes people have a hard time letting go of that. It's nice to have memories of the past, just make sure you don't live there because if you're living in the past, you're missing the present and what kind of future is that?

Life Lesson #14: Just because you have a bank account, doesn't mean you are making bank.

For some reason, I recently had the notion that I had money. Don't get me wrong, Gus and I aren't starving nor was I going hog wild and buying lots of crazy things like Kate Spade purses or Jimmy Choo shoes.

 Hell, I was aware to the fact that I at least didn't have the extra $525.00 to spend on pumps. Although, I wish I did. Look at how gorgeous they are...
Anyway, I know my mother will no doubt chalk it up to the fact that I recently got a debit card but the truth is my little fantasy began long before my plastic buddy arrived in the mail. I think it all began with my trip to Minneapolis. You see, my friends tend to have more money than I do. Sometimes it's nice because they treat me to delicious dinners and brunches but other times, it plain sucks donkey butt.
Have you ever noticed that when women get together, they tend to act like one another? (When they are friends that is.) They talk alike, they dress in the same style, they laugh at the same things...they spend money the same way. Okay, none of that's true now that I think about it. The only thing that is is the laughing thing. My friends and I all have the same sense of humor. We all have style but not the same. We don't find the same men attractive. We have a tendency to like the same food and restaurants but not drinks. We talk different with different accents but can understand each other without words. So really, I'm just looking for a scapegoat. Crap.

*Side note: Did you know there is such a thing as a FAINTING goat? True story. They are tiny little buggers that go stock stiff when scared than fall over like they are plastic lawn decorations. You Tube it. It'll make your day. I promise.
So back to the story, I have been on a spending binge with money I don't have. Nothing astronomical that I would notice and go, "Whoa, maybe I better take a pause for the cause" but rather small things here and there: a cup of coffee at work, Starbuck's on the weekend, a toy for Gus during a Target trip, two very nice yet unnecessary trips to Hobby Lobby that I had managed to totally rationalize in my mind at the time, jewelry, more gifts for Gus, a weekend of rummage sales...these things added up without my knowledge! HOW DARE THEY?

That's right sandy kid, you tell 'em who's boss. The problem is I have quit my job in order to go back to school full-time. I know, I'm amazing like that. I went to school for three years...kind of. It was more like 50% school 50% partying...okay 30% school 70%...fine 5% school 95% partying but man, it was one great party. Anyway, now I'm going back to school full-time so that I can get a real job in the real world and make real money instead of this bullshit $10.60/hr that I make now. Seriously, that's what I make. I am below the poverty line and it ain't fun, kids so STAY IN SCHOOL AND DON'T PARTY...too much.
So I'm done with work June 30 and will have to live off my savings, the government and *shudder* my parents for the next 2-2.5 years while I get my BS in English Education. Either way, I need to save. No more gifts. No more accessories. No more ANYTHING that isn't a necessity and by necessity, I actually mean necessity not, 'If I don't get this I'm going to die!' necessity of a 13/25 year old in a sweet fashion boutiques.

It is always so disappointing to realize you are broke. It's always devastating to realize you were always broke but were spending the "money" anyway. Wouldn't it be nice if the bank just kept replenishing your account every time you took out some money? That way you would never have to worry about a thing! Wow, I guess the medicine they gave me for my strep has really gone to my head...

Life Lesson #34: You will, no doubt, work for an idiot. .

Whether it is your first job, your third job, your last job or, unfortunately, all of your jobs, at some point you will work for an idiot.

The problem, of course, is that many times in life, you will be smarter than your boss. It's not just that you think you are smarter than your boss, it's that, truthfully, you are smarter than your boss. For some reason, this moron has climbed the ladder quicker than you. Either his daddy has made contributions to the company, he has slept with the right people, he was in the right place at the right time, his people skills kick ass or he's just luckier than you. Either way, he's on top and you're underneath (that's what she's said).
Your job may suck (like mine). You may wake up every morning, praying for a blizzard even when it's June, just so that you don't have to go to work. You may go to bed every night thinking, 'Dear God, I hope that something happens and I wake up tomorrow rich and/or a superhero'. Although, even superheros have to go to work.

And it must suck 100x more to be a superhero in a regular job because I'm sure they just want to bust out of their cotton and into their spandex and go ape shit on their copy machines and instead of telling their bosses what they can do with their mass mailings, they can literally show them. *sigh* How nice.
What I can't figure out is how all of the morons are getting jobs. At my young age, I've already worked for my fair share of idiots. I've worked for the idiots who have no people skills but are smart at what they do-that's one type of idiot; I've worked for the idiots who are excellent with people but can't add two and two together-that's another kind; I've witness the kind who are beautiful but have nothing else going on for them-that's a whole other kind. Maybe it's just me, but I feel if you are going to be in a position of authority, you should have people smarts AND book smarts. Unfortunately, these people are few and far between.

In my opinion, the worst thing about idiotic bosses, is they have this ridiculous notion that they are WAY more important than they actually are. Its as if to make up for their lack of intelligence, they boast their ego with...I don't even know...some personality version of Viagra. It's fake and doesn't fool anyone but themselves.
In some rare occasions, morons will somehow pull a multi-million dollar company out of their asses. This is a huge problem for the rest of us. It encourages the rest of the dumbasses and makes them believe that they, too, can succeed with barely half a brain and no common sense. It also re-enforces the idea that the intellectually challenged should be given positions of authority.

And, of course, let us not forget the idiots that you will undoubtedly work with. They will smell, not shower, not brush their teeth-if they have teeth, have horrible stories that they will tell you over and over, eat your lunch, read your emails, spread gossip, steal your pens, yet somehow more than likely get along with your boss.

Of course, not everything about work is bad. Sometimes you can find your soul mate...

Sometimes you find your person...

But most of the time you're just going to find someone like this...

...and an idiot who thinks he's a lot smarter and more important than he actually is.

So basically what you should strive for is a job that never seems like a job but that always seems to keep your bank account full of lots of goodies...

You know, like money, jewelry, gems, countries...those sorts of things.

Life Lesson #25: It takes a lot of balls to ask people for money

Most recently, my sister-in-law Lucy asked me if I was aware of the blog her cousin writes. I told her I was but that I had never read it. Lucy quickly filled me in. To say I was stunned is a drastic understatement though not as stunned as I was this morning when I read it for myself.

Lucy's cousin, Courtney, is about 28 years old, happily married with three young children. She has a degree in elementary education but is a stay-at-home mom while her husband does carpentry work. They appear to be a very happy, loving family.

It has always been Courtney's dream to have a large family, at least four children. All you have to do is read her blog to know this. (I don't want to post it in case it can be traced back to me but it's on blogspot and it's title is waitingonsix) Courtney's dream was almost crushed, though, at the beginning of her marriage. They tried to conceive shortly after getting married but struggled for the first year. Her doctor said it might just not be in the cards for her (I know all of this via Lucy, and supposedly I'm the gossip. Riiight...). You can imagine their happiness when she got pregnant with their first son, than their daughter and their youngest just turned one about a week ago. They are in the beginning stages of building their own home. They have dogs and cats, hamsters and birds. They are a frickin' TLC show waiting to happen so you'd think they'd be content to wait for baby number 4 to come along whenever, right? WRONG-O!

Apparently, one morning good ol' Courtney woke up and decided she and her loving hubby needed to adopt a child. Where did this idea come from? Well, you see, God put this idea in her heart. I don't know if God appeared as a burning bush over-night or an angel visited or if Courtney was just suffering from indigestion but she's claiming God put this idea in her heart. The truly outrageous part is evidently God was pretty specific: He wants them to adopt a girl. From Ethiopia. Under the age of 4. She may or may not come with a sibling, that part doesn't matter, all that matters is that Courtney adopts her...and that she's a she...from Ethiopia...and is under the age of 4. I guess God 1) doesn't care about the orphans from other countries 2) doesn't care about boys or 3) doesn't think Courtney can handle any children who don't fit those requirements.

So now you're probably thinking, okay, this lady is a little off but not too off, I mean she's kind hearted enough to adopt a child in need, what's the big deal? Let her! I'm sure someone out there needs a mother and Angelina Jolie has to reach a limit at some point! Well, sit back my dear stalkers but this tale is about to take a turn into Crazyville (is there really a Crazyville? Time out, let me check Google Maps...Nope BUT there is a Looneyville, WV. NICE!)

Sadly, Courtney's family doesn't have the money to adopt a child. To adopt an international child, it costs between $22,000-45,000. I found this out by reading the blog. Does this problem deter Courtney? OF COURSE NOT! She just sends out a letter to all her family and friends asking them for funds so they can adopt! Obviously, she explains her epiphany from God and how this is her family's calling. Now I don't know this for sure but I'm doubting she explained that the reason they are lacking the funds right now is due to the fact that they are building their own house...
I understand that asking for money from your relatives usually involves swallowing a lot of self-pride. Most people are too proud to ask for help when they need it, especially when it involves money. Apparently, Courtney has no pride. I'm sure she'd be the first to tell you that where children are concerned, it doesn't matter, you do what you have to do for your children. How very noble of you, Courtney. Here's an idea: how about instead of begging your friends and relatives for money that you don't have, putting your family so far in the hole you definitely won't be able to live as you do now, being indebted to your friends and family for the rest of your life (and what happens to the people who give money should you not raise enough? do you give the money back or hold on to it until you do have the funds?), how about you WAIT and save your own damn money to adopt this child? Or maybe you go back to work as well? Don't want to pay for daycare than maybe YOU take in some kids for daycare and earn an extra $2000/month. Did God, while calling to you with these extremely detailed instructions, put a time limit on this?

I am all for adoption. God bless the wonderful parents who give homes to the millions of orphans out there who need loving homes. But I also think that adoption is hard for a reason. They make you jump through so many hoops because they want to make sure you are serious about it, that you realize what is all involved and that you aren't doing it just so others think you are a good human being. I just don't think every family is made for adoption...
If Courtney is all gung-ho for giving a child a home, why doesn't she become a foster parent? Or why doesn't she adopt a US child, they are much cheaper? Why does it have to be NOW? If they can't afford the adoption process, how are they going to provide for FOUR YOUNG CHILDREN? Chances are, the little girl from Ethiopia won't be healthy and will definitely need to be up-dated on her shots, which of course costs money, how will they be able to afford that? Another fund-raiser? Car wash? Dodgeball tournament?

Personally, I think there is something seriously wrong with this lady. If I were part of the adoption company (company? team? agency? agency.), I wouldn't give someone a child who had to go out and fund raise for her because to me that just says, "Wow, this woman is looking for a cause not a daughter." In the meantime, I'm just going to sit back, relax, and wait for the telethon that is sure to come.